Midnight City (Open to TSO, others see thread)

[Jairus Starvald]

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Korriban City, after the Silver Jedi Retreat.​

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Inside one of the many pyramids of Korriban City stood a man.

He was a patient man, a meticulous one, a man who seemed to truly care about propriety and its many details. His back was faced to an old desk filled to the brink with paperwork of any and all kinds, it seemed chaotic, yet Magister Swimbolt was fervent in his insistence that there was a system. As the Dromund Kaasian stared out from his office down towards the city proper, it was clear to him that there hadn't been a system among the Silvers.

It was sheer luck that one of those turbolasers had not even touched this citadel. Not something worthy of celebrating for Swimbolt, the black surface of his eyes reflected the smoke and fire coming off his city.

His city. And yet the Magister had not been able to protect it.

"Casualty report." Swimbolt spoke softly, but there was an intensity to it. He had cut right through the approach of his aide, who had been careful in his stride.

"The numbers are still coming in, m'Lord, the more buildings we dig out... the higher they rise."

Swimbolt nodded, but there was still that question in the air.

The aide, a straight-forward arrow in the trade of administration from Ziost, coughed softly. "Thousands, many thousands." He supplied after another moment. This was devastating and both gentlemen in the room knew it- first the exodus of the Sith, once the intentions of the Silver Jedi had become clear years ago, and now this. It was clear to the Magister that they would have to act soon and act swift, if they wished to save the city.

"The Silver Order?"

"Word has it they have retreated."

This made the Magister frown, if only slightly.

Why they would glass a city, before retreating was beyond him. But at least it was a small windfall in a day full of... grievances and problems.

"Very well. Keep me posted. The next couple of days will determine the fate of the city, dare I say it."

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A tiny figure exited the shuttle, followed closely by other - larger - individuals.

It had wings and was cloaked in expensive silk, adorned by mystical symbols. The peacock, for it was a peacock indeed, slightly shifted its little head to the side once the full view of destruction became clear to him. Tai Fa looked up to one of his companions, before shaking that head in turn.

"Jedi such as these...​

The world has no need for us.​

What a waste, I say."​

​

He, Lord Fa, made a clicking sound with his beak before taking the first steps towards the city itself.

In his wake landed other shuttles and ships, some indirectly affiliated with the Sith Order while others were owned by sympathetic corporations and organizations.

All had come to aid in the rebuilding of Korriban City.

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OOC:

Spoiler

As promised, the Aftermath thread for the Rebellion. This thread is wide-open to members of the Sith Order faction, mostly semi-open for other Sith who wanna help, anyone else should PM either [member="Velok the Younger"] or [member="Nyra Mazul"] for permission to join.

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany was still getting accustomed to the feeling of a body around her again. She had spent forty years alive, and then over five hundred with nothing to contain her but the forest of Zonama Sekot. Going back to a tiny vessel of flesh and blood and bone had been an ordeal- painful truth be told. She had forgotten what heat and cold felt like. Discomfort, the hardness of the galaxy. The lights were too bright, the wind too sharp.

And that was all before she had even reached Korriban itself.

It had only made sense to come here first, after leaving Zonama Sekot. After all, it was the events here that had, in many ways, been instrumental in others seeking her. It wasn't the first injustice in the galaxy since she had died- not by any stretch of the imagination. In truth, it wasn't even the worst. But it was the first that had called to her, triggering others to call out to her.

The dust was thick in the air, blocking out much of the already anemic light that came from Korriban's sun. Though it was midday, the city seemed settled in an eternal moment of twilight. The ruined landscape was ruled by silence, except for the movement of the wind and the cawing of carrion birds.

Dressed in a dove grey tunic, wearing no lightsaber, long dark hair loose around her face, her appearance did not advertise 'Jedi'. Indeed, she had no interest in doing that. But perhaps not for the obvious reasons. Bethany had no fear of if her identity as a Jedi was discovered- it was a possibility, after all, though she doubted anyone would know her personally. She was, at best, a historical figure now, a thought that made her chuckle. She was just as content to let all of that remain history. No, she was not hiding her identity out of protection for herself- but because she wasn't here on Jedi agenda. Her purpose was not to shine bright the light of what Jedi ought to be. Her purpose here was to see with her own eyes what had transpired, but more importantly.... to help.

Proclaiming herself a Jedi would be nothing more than self-serving *and* dangerous. And she wasn't here to redeem the Jedi. She was here to do her part, in whatever way she could.

 

[Niysha]

Ziost had been a peaceful, if tense, exchange of diplomacy and browbeating. No shots had been fired and no casualties had been reported. Roughly the only dangerous thing that had happened on the entire planet was a revolution in the capital city, which quickly simmered down after the Silver Jedi retreated. All in all, with the exception of what had happened in the hour or to immediately following the incident, Niysha would have gladly declared the entire thing a rousing success.

Korriban had been a different story. If the stand-off had continued any longer, the Sithling had been prepared to use terrified, damaged footage of the assault as leverage to get the Silver fleet to dismantle its defenses over Ziost. Practically, it would have served as one hell of a nail in the coffin, but personally, Niysha had feared coming to this planet after the tragedy. She didn't know what a massacre looked like, and she really hadn't wanted to find out.

The mess of Sith and businessmen and philanthropists milling about the spaceport could have easily hidden Niysha's frail little body if she hadn't been in visible distress. The Sight of blood was emotionally charged due to the pain and loss of the individual whose aura it was still connected to. The sight of death was unpleasant, but a corpse was much less vibrant and attention-catching than a living person.

This was neither of those things.

The air of one of the only inhabited areas on Korriban was thick with panic and loss and pain and anger and a dozen other emotions. It was almost impossible for the Miraluka to See the ground beneath her feet, let alone any of the dozens if not hundreds of people milling around her. As she tried to step out of the spaceport entrance, she ran directly into someone, stumbled back, and fell on her rear. She held her head with one hand, trying to struggle to her feet and focus herself to be able to make out anything at all beyond just the haze of nonsense around her.

Eventually, more blind than usual and with a powerfully growing migrane, Niysha managed to find a seat beside one of the many exits to the Korriban City spaceport. If she could just spend a minute or two alone to concentrate, she'd be fine. Focus on the tiny vestiges of Adekos' aura on your lightsaber. Focus on the memory of Ignus' meditation chamber, perfectly calming and quiet. You can do this. Deep breaths.

After a few minutes of sitting alone on a bench, Niysha stood and rubbed the side of her head. Focusing her Sight to a much smaller radius - just a few meters around her, rather than her normal twenty-ish - meant she wasn't overloaded with as much sensory input. She could at least walk upright, which was more than she'd been able to claim when she walked off that shuttle. At least she wouldn't be useless.

Which was good, because this planet had no use for useless people at the moment. Niysha might not have been a telekinetic powerhouse, physically strong enough to lift construction materials, a powerful Force-user, or a corporate mastermind...but dammit, this much pain was not right. She would do anything in her (meager, inconsequential) power to help. While the rest of the Sith attended their meetings with political leaders and the corporate agenda, Niysha walked into the city proper, pacing its streets until she found something to do. There had to be someone around here who could use a more personal touch.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

He had wanted to stay.

Yet, Sardun knew - looking deeply inwards - that if he had stayed there, he would never have left again. It was too pleasant there, too peaceful, Sekot was warmth, understanding, knowledge and peace. Truth to be told Michael could hardly remember his parents anymore; the soft touch of his mother's hand brushing his hair back, his father pulling him up and 'flying' him around. The laughter and joy the latter had incited.

Distant memories, a fog still hanging over them.

But Sekot had felt similar.

I still have work to do. It was duty, that moved him now. In a lot of ways the Galaxy was more karked than ever before, he wasn't responsible for that directly, but if he turned his back on it now when its people needed help the most... it might as well been. So, he left again, turning his back to peace and picking up his hammer again.

Choosing to follow [member="Bethany Kismet"] had been easy. In a different life he had been the leader, the man with the plan and who picked the path, but these days the Jedi Master felt better playing a more supportive role. He stayed quiet. His eyes roamed the outlines of the city, the flurry of shuttles moving up and way, there was darkness here and it felt too familiar to what Sardun felt inside on a daily notice.

She didn't stumble, kept on walking straight, but it was clear that there was difficulty for her here. Not the darkness, no, it was the sense of acclimatization, to become familiar again with a normal body.

Sardun had been there, in the early days; right after the vongshaping had happened and years later once it had been partially reversed.

A sense of peace started to radiate away from him, towards her. No words, just understanding and support in the moment it was needed.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Korriban City, Korriban

Korriban City once a sprawling and beautiful city crawling with life dotted with its various tall buildings and the scenic pyramids and architecture that made this city the icon it was, something truly amazing. Now it was a smoking ruin with many buildings collapsed into smoking ruins, the streets filled or even blocked with rubble and fires burning throughout. Bodies still littered the streets from the aftermath of the brutal and relentless glassing by the Silver Jedi Order. Jedi who called themselves saviors and heroes, showing their propaganda down the throats of the Korribani people on how terrible Sith rule was, and how living under the Jedi Order was the only way one for there was no happiness under the Sith.

But then the Silver Jedi ships guns opened up and rained fire down on the people they claimed they were there to protect. Men, women, and young children it didn't matter of the massive collateral damage they'd inflict, they simply didn't care. Normally when the Immortal-Class Dreadnaught the 'Harbinger', flagship of Darth Prazutis and many elements of War Fleet Leviathan entered the atmosphere above a planet it meant certain doom. Typically it meant either a glassing or legions of brutal, relentless soldiers would be belched from their hangars. But when ships belched from their hangars in the hundreds, thousands even covering the skies in a massive swarm reminiscent of a hive of insects it wasn't to spread death and ruin, but security, hope, and relief aid to the wayward citizens on the surface below.

These ships dropped laborers, slave labor, and maintenance droids by the tens of thousands with ships taking multiple trips to bring payloads of supplies, and relief aid fresh from the Pacanth Reach. They'd help to clear city streets and pull bodies out of the rubble and away from the streets out of view of all the citizens whose morale didn't need to be driven any lower. Under direct order of Darth Prazutis himself across the city in the largest structures refugee centers would begin to be established where warm beds, food, clothes and medical supplies could be received. But there was one site that would most certainly grab the attention of the city.

The Blackblade Guard.

The elite black armored legion known as the legendary butchers of the black-iron tyrant [member="Darth Carnifex"] these men marched in the thousands, their combined march creating a thunder of stomping boots through the streets as these men marched in one full unit. They stopped in the streets and without so much as skipping a beat the formation broke apart and split up through the streets of Korriban City helping to enforce law and order where chaos had taken root. A truly rare event one normally would never see outside of the Pacanth Reach these infamous butchers were now saviors, providing security.

Then he made his descent.

A ship with stabilizers that appeared to be far too large for the ship itself landed at the administrative pyramid appearing out of a cloud of smoke billowing into the sky. The ramp lowered and out from the shadowy confines strode Darth Prazutis wearing a set of ornate jeweled dark armor under his usual majestic robes that also had glowing sorcerous runes and dark writings on them. The hood was pulled down and atop his head sat an ornate crown circlet of dark steel that bore ruby's, the symbol of royalty and divinity that marked him as the Crown Prince of the Pacanth Reach. As Prazutis walked through the doors and into the pyramid standing at his side was 11-9D an ancient protocol droid similar in model to the one owned by one Sheev Palpatine. This droid was modernized and imbued with dark side energy given a certain malevolence. "Give me a status report?" Prazutis asked.

"The refugee centers are being established as we speak operational capacity is at forty percent and climbing. Fire and clearing operations, as well as establishing a final casualty report are taking longer than expected. Understandable due to the amount of damage." The droid replied in a deep, calm voice.

"Satisfactory. Status report on our security efforts." the Dark Lord asked once more. In the aftermath of such a tragedy he knew all too well looting and crime spiked in the absence of order, it was crucial to maintain safety and security in this crucial time. They needed to earn the peoples trust a hard endeavor especially after the betrayal of the Silver Jedi. "Based on the last official city reports crime is dropping. The Blackblade Guard are moving to establish control in more sectors, they're currently in control of one sector."

| [member="Tai Fa"] | [member="Bethany Kismet"] | [member="Niysha"] | [member="Michael Sardun"] |

 

[Asharad Graush]

A single rogue Admiral had fired upon Korriban City, immediately putting an end to the Silver Jedi Resistance of the Sith forces that were engaging them all throughout the Stygian Caldera. Hundreds of lives had been lost before the bombardment A'sharad guessed, but when the sky itself had become to drop flames upon the unsuspecting people of the City of Korriban, those numbers jumped immediately. A'sharad couldn't say as to why the unknown rogue had ordered the bombardment, why their subordinates had followed the order, or how they had even gotten away, but it had happened, and he was there

"Oh well," he said aloud in a low voice, more to himself than anyone else.

From the sky hundreds of ships boasting Sith support emerged from the smoked up clouds, some landing nearby, some far away. Graush and Vitiate relief ships were on the way already, meant to follow him to the planet, but he had come on ahead, with only Darsaud and Arvengis as company so that he could see it for himself.

Flames, smoke blacker than his First Order Officer's uniform.

Death.

A massive loss of life almost instantly.

Somewhere nearby there were units of the Blackblade Guard marching about, led by none other than [member="Darth Prazutis"], but of course, none of the trio of Sith knew that.

The trio stood on a second story balcony of some building, or whatever was left of it. In orbit of the planet, the Star Destroyer King Adas, came out of hyperspace, like the other ships before it, destroying dozens of shuttles that carried supplies and the tools necessary for clearing out rubble and fixing the city. Vitiate could supply jobs, A'sharad knew this, and soon the people of this planet would too.

"Time to get to work."

 

[Darth Osano]

KORRIBAN CITY
SPACEPORT - HANGAR Q09

Relief supplies. Glorious, glorious relief supplies. Shipped here directly from Silver Jedi space in unmarked, unopened crates. There was quite a lot that had been unloaded and more still to be done. The process of unpacking it would be easy enough- distribution would be another issue entirely. Not to mention they would then need to inspect the contents of the crates themselves for any funny business. All that was why the Helix Syndicate had come to assist in the distribution effort. That and assist the Sith in making it perfectly clear to the citizens of Korriban City and the Stygian Caldera who it was that had their best interests at heart. And where it was this abundance of relief supplies had come from. The Silver Jedi had been told not to grandstand from their assistance offered in this whole mess. By keeping the crates unmarked, they had kept their end of the bargain.

However, leaving the crates unmarked during the distribution process would lead to speculation. Speculation would lead to doubts about the origins of the supplies. Doubts about the origins of the supplies would lead to doubts about the sincerity of the Sith. Doubts about the sincerity of the Sith would lead to the Sith losing popularity. So it goes. Somewhere towards the end of this chain there is the result of Pollux being paid less and less money by the Sith, and if there was one thing Pollux did not want at any point in his life, it was being paid less money.

For the most part, Pollux was only here to supervise the process. Being a man who was loathe to speak at length, the actual debriefing of the stamping-and-distribution endeavor was being handled by Eugene. The veteran Guavian was dividing the assembled Helix Syndicate enforcers into separate groups. Each crate would receive the insidious symbol of the Sith stamped upon it. That was non-negotiable. That stamp would then be accompanied by one additional stamp- which would be the logo of one of any of the various "Sith-friendly" private corporations and other organizations... Such as Fa Holdings and Ignus Industries, among others. The distribution of those stamps would vary depending on the size of the corporations, so as not to attract any undue attention. Pollux did not want it to look like any one company had contributed more than was feasibly possible for them.

Lying to people? Fun. Lying to people by taking advantage of the misplaced generosity of others? Even more so.

 

[Nyra Mazul]

Nyra was a woman and not a woman. She was both pretty and ugly, hairy and smooth, and any other contradictory combination one could think of. She was variable. In her variable state she was currently one of her favored forms a large black feline stalking the streets. It was easier to climb to the aid of citizens in this form although she found herself transforming into a human more and more as the labor of rescue became strained.

Korriban City wasn't what it once was and yet it wasn't the utterly beaten place that many people seemed to think. Morale was surprisingly high as a stern resolve radiated from the city. People were working at erecting the pyramids and monuments and setting up aid stations. It was all very... strange. Even Nyra herself associated Darkside with more inward motives and yet here was a community supposedly seeped in evil building itself up from the ashes of orbital bombardment.

Supplies from across the galaxy were flowing into the city. It was funny how a tragedy could ignite interest in a place that most people never thought about before the event. Still it was welcome despite the knowledge that some of it came from those shedding crocodile tears. Jedi. Nyra rolled her eyes. Hypocrits the lot of them. Sure there was a few that could be respected but by and large they were all liars with self serving agendas.

Among those she saw was @Pollux. He was a deranged little man with a devious mind. Yet Nyra held in him a modicum of respect. They were after all so very similar in many regards. For him to be handing out supplies Nyra knew there was something more. She approached him, forgetting that her current shape was that of a feline. Shifting into her human form she nodded at the man. "WE may have Jedi visitors. Don't get caught doing that."

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Pollux"] | [member="Nyra Mazul"]

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Papers, papers everywhere. They clouded his desk and the pen in his hand twitched, danced around them without halt. A signature here, some commentary there and the underlining of words for extra attention, it was an art; the processing of paperwork and Magister Swimbolt was the master of it.

There was authority within Korriban City.

A way of doing things, people listening to others listening to others, until finally after a long, long row... they listened to him.

The request for more supplies for the Korriban Guard riffled under the pressure of his hand. At least, that was what Swimbolt assumed, until a little mouse pushed its way through the papers and sat down on top of them. Magister Swimbolt was aware of everything that happened within Korriban City, yet, there was no secret police reporting to him -- at least, none that the common citizens were aware of -- it was almost magical.

Some simply assumed he was a Sith himself.

"Boss, we got your repor- ...do I smell cheese?" The truth was far more simple than Sithness or magic, though. With an amused glance Swimbolt revealed a single, little cube of cheese which he placed before the mouse. His finger tip was on it, signifying he wished to hear the news first.

"...right, so Blackblades have started to restore order alongside our own Guards. They have been respectable... bit quiet tho, Tisha wants to know if we should find out more about them. I think we could make them quite uncomfortable." The Magister shook his head and then released the cube. The Nezumi immediately dug in, cheeks enlarged from the cheese being gorged.

"Not necessary, Leaf. We will need all hands on deck on this one- keep an eye on them, but don't engage."

"Ymfmesmfmf, SIR!" Leaf finally got out, once the cheese was gone. A little salute followed and then the Nezumi disappeared once again.

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Fa Holdings was growing steadily.

They had operations within the Kyrikal system, Enigma Prime and a little hold-out within the Centrality itself. Yet, the real prize - at least for this particular situation - were the shipping lanes of the Sith Worlds. Few people truly had bothered with blazing these ancient trails, there was the occasional Trade Company ala Korriban Caf, the giants of Arceneau or the government-sanctioned ships of Korriban or previously the Silvers.

But Fa Holdings had made it one of their top priorities.

Foresight, it was an important piece of success. And Tai Fa had known that the Sith Order would move on the ancestral homes of the Sith sooner or later. Inserting his freighters had proven to be indispensable during the rebellion, with his ships providing key intelligence of the Silvers' movement and assets.

Now those same freighters had a different goal. Their usual routes were reassigned -- it had taken some sweet talking, a few sternly-written haikus and a lot of political capital, but his usual customers had understood that in this particular moment... Korriban City came first. For the Sith power was everything; but power brought responsibility as well.

The strong ruled, but in their rule they protected the weak as well. Otherwise you would rule over ashes and where was the point in that?

"My friend, we are here.
Among the people between.
Set up our point now.

We are not alone.
Friend Pollux is here as well.
Line to the starport.

Careful we must be.
Distribution is now key.
Equal measures all."​

​

Vnut nodded carefully after having listened to the tale spun by his master. In truth, he didn't always understand what the Thirriken was saying to him, yet, he had learned quickly that by nodding often and doing the most obvious thing at hand... more often than not he guessed right. He started to set up a supply point on this particular plaza -- it was a key point within the city's infrastructure.

Close to the destruction, but even closer to the city's main starport.

The City Guard and the Blackblades would continue to hold order, while also aiding in the distribution of the aid packages throughout the city. They would be settled within these points, before being given out to the people nearby.

This would ensure that the spread was equally given out to those that had need of it.

 

[Darth Osano]

[member="Nyra Mazul"]

Right, the Jedi were going to show up. Either that or they were already here. Pollux could not fathom why the Sith would allow them back on this planet. "Haven't they already helped enough?" Someone cliche might say, but the Givin actually held little regard for that. It just seemed like it would be a greater annoyance than anything else. Pollux could only foresee any Jedi who showed up as lingering despondently in the background, acting moody over the people whose deaths they had caused, getting in the way, taking up space. It didn't seem like a sound plan. Not that it was Pollux's place to say such things. He was but a mere hireling, much in the vein of Charizard Louis.

Or whatever her name was.

Pollux gestured to Eugene, beckoning the Guavian over. "Have the men close off the spaceport. No one without clearance gets in."

Eugene nodded curtly and went to relay these orders to the Helix Syndicate enforcers working security.

Once the supplies was properly marked and organized, the distribution effort would take place elsewhere. Parts of the spaceport had been leveled by the bombardment, not to mention the damage to infrastructure would make it difficult for civilians to get here. Still, it was the only place in the city that could handle the large amount of ships coming in and temporarily store the offloaded supplies. Upon the completion of the stamping, the Guavians and other Sith personnel would board some speeder trucks and split off to deliver the supplies to the different relief centers that had sprung up around the city. And they would be accompanied by camera droids so that this humanitarian project was properly documented...

"Satisfied?"

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Progress in some areas was slower than expected but they had prepared for a margin of delays. A city as badly damaged as this one especially from an orbital bombardment meant many streets especially side streets were possibly blocked from falling debris. As Darth Prazutis made his way through the hallways of the pyramid the black plated droid providing constant updates of their expansive campaign to rebuild Korriban City. The presence of Blackblade Guardsman that mixed with the strained Korriban Guard began to lock down the city district by district. It was an odd contrast between the city guard and the legionnaires that stood alongside them the blackblades looked like they were geared for war rather than city protection and security. But their fearsome appearance did wonders for maintaining order where chaos once ruled.

"The first refugee center has become operational. As you requested efforts are being made to work with local municipal offices and other relief aid to send citizens to the right centers." 11-9D said as he shuffled alongside his master. While standing next to the Dark Lord the droid was dwarfed by his masters sheer height and size. But the droid was necessary to effectively coordinate these particular relief efforts. The refugee centers were stocked to capacity but they needed to make sure citizens were equally split up among them, rather than putting all the pressure on one single center. In times such as these people will go to anywhere they can get the help they need, sometimes without rational thinking. "Excellent. I want an expedite order on getting the other centers operational. Open up a comm channel to Siege Master Ukrauth." Prazutis ordered.

The droid held a small disk aloft and suddenly a holographic image of the massive black plated graug sprang to life. The Siege Master bowed before him and spoke first "My lord, what is thy command?" The graug said in a hoarse, deep voice. While not his first choice the Warlord of the Iron Horde was off on another assignment for the royal family, so his second in command would do just fine for this side operation Prazutis was leading. "Siege Master Ukrauth. Street sweeping operations aren't moving as efficiently as we expected. In fact they're slower than we predicted. Bring the graug down to aid in clearing efforts and to motivate our slave labor." Prazutis ordered. The graug slammed a fist to his chest and bowed "Yes my lord. Your will my hands." The image of the savage graug disappeared shortly after and Prazutis pushed through the doors to Magister Swimbolts office. Just prior to entering a man announced his arrival:

"His imperial and royal apostolic majesty, Lord Prazutis, Crown Prince of the Royal House Zambrano, Prime Designate of all the Epicanthix, Prince of Panatha, Bunduki, Fornow, Ravaath, Sorimow, and Thule, Duke of Canthar, Highreach, the Underhold, and Harom. Crown Prince of the Pacanth Reach." The man announced with pride as the goliath of a man entered the room. "Magister. We would've come sooner but pressing concerns on Malachor V required my attention. We are here now. Our guardsman are working to secure the streets while our droids and laborers work to clean up debris, rubble, and put out fires. The first of the refugee centers has been declared operational and i'm bringing more of my people down to help with street clearing. You will have all of the supplies you need."

Somewhere in the city more relief aid poured in and a friend of his remained in orbit, but Prazutis had yet to discover this.

| [member="Tai Fa"] | [member="Bethany Kismet"] | [member="Niysha"] | [member="Michael Sardun"] | [member="Asharad Graush"] | [member="Nyra Mazul"] |​

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany and [member="Michael Sardun"] blended in with the other aid workers as best as they could. They didn't draw attention to themselves more than necessary, simply signing up at one of the aid camps and receiving directions as to how they could best be put to use. Bethany used an old alias, Kela'Vert, and listed her skill simply as 'Medic'. It was an understatement of her abilities, but Sith Healers were not particularly common, and it seemed easier than trying to tell any sort of convoluted lie. If she could avoid it, she didn't want to lie at all. She was a medic. Just also a little bit more.

"Sector 3, here on this map. Look for survivors. Treat in field, or call for an evac when you find people. Comm back if there is anyone you find trapped and we'll send a team. Here are your supplies and comm. You have a partner? Good, makes it easier. Don't do anything stupid- it doesn't help us if you play hero. If you need back up, call. And don't get hurt out there, it'll just make more work for us and nobody's got time for that. Look for team leader Echo out there if you have any questions."

"Yessir," she told him, peeling away from the aid tent and letting the next person take her place. They split carrying the gear between them- mostly because Beth wouldn't let Michael carry all of it- and headed to their assigned sector.

It was hard, though she tried not to think about it. Bethany had grown so accustomed to being part of something completely encompassing, sometimes so much that she couldn't tell where it ended and she began. Zonama Sekot had been more than home. It had been herself. Now, herself stopped at her fingertips. The sound of blood pounded in her ears. Her heart beat, alone, filling the silence in her body where there used to be an entire planet.

So while he couldn't have completely understood perhaps, the small supports through the Force offered by Michael were surprisingly important to her in those moments. She was so used to being filled with the life of others, a billion trees making up her physical body, that this tiny vessel was alien and uncomfortable. Emerald eyes shot him an appreciative glance, and she smiled as they picked over the rubble, but by and large, she didn't speak. The silence, however, was comfortable between them for now.

And besides, they needed to focus their attention.

"Something's here, under this slab," she said suddenly, tilting her head to one side. It was small- far too small to be a sentient creature- and yet.....

Glancing around, Bethany looked to make sure no one was watching them. Then, motioning Michael over with her head, she reached out with the Force. She trusted him to sense what she was doing.

"Help me," she murmured, kneeling down in the rubble. Telekinesis had never been a strong point of hers, and she wasn't going to be able to move this slab by herself.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Nui Akona.

He wrote it down without thinking, before realizing the name formed by his own hand. This had been the name under which he had supported the Yuuzhan Vong movement and the One Sith. A frown passed his brows, before Sardun centered himself once again - this was not the time for a crisis of any kind. There would be enough time to ponder about this once they were off this planet, preferably when he had some time to be alone again.

Instead, Michael simply added lifter behind his name.

A joke to lift his own spirits.

When [member="Bethany Kismet"] had asked him what he could do to help, that's what he had replied. I uh... can lift heavy things. There wasn't much else the Jedi Master could do, fight, kill... protect and handle heavy objects.

They walked. Sardun glanced around, but for the most part the denizens of Korriban City seemed to be satisfied to leave them to their own devices. They were too busy with trying to survive to really give a damn. It honestly surprised Michael how... resilient they were in the face of this tragedy.

There were enough guards - some in black shining armor... Blackblades, I know these. He had killed a fair few of them, while rescuing the former Grandmaster of the Order.

"Hmm?" His attention left the guards and settled itself on the slab, then on his fellow Jedi crouching down next to it. Understanding appeared in those blue eyes, yet, Michael had never been much of a telekinetic user. He preferred things to be far more... physical than that.

"Hold on." Michael mumbled, before crouching down next to her. Hands left his knees and fingers dug beneath the dirt, until they had some measure of grip on the ledge. One look was cast around them, before he pulled. His presence in the Force did not so much flare, as suddenly seep through his own body.

The Matukai teachings weren't focused on the external, they surrounded the internal instead.

In response the slab rose up easily, underneath it... dust rose, coughing and a soft whine filling the air.

 

[Olom Grihk]

[member="Pollux"] [member="Darth Carnifex"]


(OOC: I'm doing doctor things, feel free to join me if you want to stitch somebody together or just serve food)


ELO Refugee Center.



Another ship, another dalliance, another plan. Multiple plans. Seventy men and women from Elom, half of the field medics, the remainder armed militia. Led by Olom Grihk, or as he was known today, Dr. Facubrae Nehk, because that was a good fake name for a doctor. In an area closer to the damaged part of the city, tents were quickly, speedily erected. Two militia members were dispatched, each to a different command post.



One came to Carnifex, and left a message with one of his Blackblades to relay to the others. She smiled at the imposing soldiers around her. "We've set up a medical facility within spitting distance of the main damage. Any refugee center with severely injured can come in, we've got five surgeons currently on call. The Medical camp is in sector four, we do not need extra security, but additional medical personnel are welcome, and all search and rescue people are welcome to bring more injured and wounded our way. We'll be providing food and medical care as much as we can," the woman said, leaving a comm frequency so that the Blackblades or others could hail the ELO camp should the need arise. "I need to head back to base and see if I can aid the search and rescue teams. Contact us if you need us!"



The second approached Eugene, unaware of Pollux's role, which was liekly how the quiet Givn preferred it. "Dr. Nehk has set up a facility for medical relief work in this area," he said as he pointed to the map, indicating the location of their impromptu camp. "The ELO is happy to aid in your relief efforts, and Dr. Nehk will happily take any press or medical personnel, provided they are able to follow orders," he said, the messenger unaware that Olom's aim was just as much to legitimize the new government of Elom as it was to aid the people. Building an alliance in the Caldera between Korriban's leadership and Elom's Junta would make things easier for the Sith, and all the better if only a few people knew who was actually forging it. "We've got sufficient physical goods includign food and clothing, but we'll likely want more medical equipment as the wounded are found by rescue and retrieval teams. Bacta, Kolto, and oxygen tanks, also ammonia in case we have any alternate atmosphere-breathing victims," he said, leaving the requisition list on the table. "Thanks for your time, and let us know what you can deliver, or if we need to pick it up." The older man in a crisp balck uniform gave a quick salute and marched back to base, to finish coordinating logistics with Olom.



In the interim, Olom had already begun doing medical work. Some of it was standard mass-casualty methodology, other parts were simple food and resource distribution. Slaves, refugees, even a few major nobles and wealthy types who simply had their homes devastated by the bombardment had come, needing treatment for their maladies, cots to rest in, or even just food and water. The sonic shower stalls were running, connected to a hyper-matter reactor pulled fro ma crashed ship. Olom did so enjoy repurposing salvaged tech. It just felt good to put something to use. Still, he avoided using the force for anything other than mobility, and kept his saber sheathed in his walking stick. He would say he came on behalf of the ELO in solidarity with the Sith if asked. But so far, none challenged him, even the man who recognized his face as that of a dangerous Columi who worked for the Sith Empire over a decade ago. So far, only one fellow had remembered him, and he was more than happy to ignore the familiarity in exchange for some fresh food and a change of clothing.


Olom looked as he saw a dust cloud approaching. More wounded? Or maybe more help....

 

[Nyra Mazul]

[member="Pollux"]

Nyra rolled her eyes at the Givin. "Barely," she shook her head. "If they come looking for their supplies... well it isn't on my head. Some underworld element just got ahold of them." Shrugging she continued on. The truth was Nyra didn't have the resources other sith did. At least not the companies and support structure. What she did have though was troves of money that she'd obtained through brokering items to various people over the ages. She was a thief and not too shabby at it. With that money she'd bought supplies of her own, whatever she could buy, beg, borrow or steal. For her the thrill wasn't the accumulation of wealth but rather the thrill in acquiring it. She was a strange bird that way.

"Hey watch it," Nyra called as a peice of construction equipment dropped a beam. She caught it with the aid of the force before lowering it gently to the ground. Rolling her eyes she looked around and moved to the little aid station she'd erected. Most of the effort had been around the larger structures but Nyra went to the slums. These were her people and despite the small size of the city they were numerous. While big buildings and expensive dwellings would take the most to rebuild this was where the damage was most extensive.

"How we doing Mac?" She didn't care to learn the old traders name. He was bought and paid for along with his wares which he now distributed.

"We've handed out clothing, basic med kits. Running low on rations though."

That was problematic. Korriban wasn't known for being a bread basket so food had be brought in from offworld. Great food stores had been hit and freezers and other systems designed to preserve goods had gone offline allowing hundreds of thousands of pounds of basic foodstuff to go bad. "Well I'll see what I can scrounge around. Word is there is a new supply shipment come in."

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany managed to scramble (rather undignified) out of his way just in time. When he said he could lift heavy things, he wasn't kidding, she thought to herself wryly.

"Can you move?" Beth called softly, peering in to the depression that had kept the surprising little occupants safe from the slab above. A trio of mice peered out at her, noses twitching and covered in dust.

"Sabakune is hurt!" one of them squeaked as the first came bounding out. It twitched its whiskers, brushing debris off of them and looked up cautiously at Beth and [member="Michael Sardun"] .

"Hurry on out and I'll get Sabakune," she urged the little creature, trying not to get distracted by how unreasonably cute they were. As soon as the second one scampered out, Beth slipped beneath the slab. She had no reservations about trusting Michael to keep it up a moment or two longer, and she moved without hesitation. Very gently, she scooped up the whimpering mouse and shuffled backward out again. Nodding to her partner, she settled down on her backside, sitting cross-legged and gently laying the creature in to her lap.

"His leg's broken," she murmured softly. The other two mice bounced up and down on their hind legs beside her thigh, obviously agitated. "Don't worry, he'll be okay. I promise."

"How do you know?"

She smiled down at the creature. "Because it's my job."

It was her turn to reach out to the Force in a way that was a worn, familiar path. Absently, she murmured up to Michael "Can you find me.... a toothpick maybe? Or something about that size? And whatever the thinnest strips of gauze we have in the kit, yes?"

The Force billowed around her like a fog, and she drew it in- at the same time, she focused it, reaching out to the tiny creature in her lap. The work of a healer is complex, utilizing more than a single discipline to achieve the desired results. This was a place where she did use telekinesis, but in minute, fine motions. Rather than resetting the tiny bones with her hands, she first soothed the ragged edges of the pain, and then very carefully manipulated the Force to bring them back in to alignment. Without looking up, she put her hand out, accepting the materials Michael had found for her. Inspecting them then, she gave a satisfied nod. She moved slowly, however, a subconscious frown tugging at the corners of her lips as she sought physical skills she hadn't used in half a millennia. Splinting the tiny leg, she reached out again.

The Force wasn't magic. She couldn't instantly heal the leg as though it had never been damaged. But she sought out the processes in the body that naturally took care of the complicated job of healing and enhanced them, speeding the process. She watched with her minds eye as internal bruises slowly faded and the bone began the laborious process of knitting back together before retreating. It would still take time before he was fully healed, but only a fraction of what it might have taken otherwise.

"He's going to need help for the next week or so," she said kindly, looking over at the other two creatures. They bobbed up and down now, more in excitement she guessed, than agitation. "And I want you to stay off of that leg if you can, okay? Rest."

"Thank you thank you!" They squeaked.

"Can you get somewhere safe?"

One of the little creatures nodded vigorously. "We have a place to go, big-healer-human-lady!"

Bethany watched, bemused, as the two scampered off, the third one limping, supported between them.

"What in the galaxy were those?"

 

[Jairus Starvald]

The Magister raised his gaze from the papers to the herald entering the room.

He waited patiently for him to finish announcing [member="Darth Prazutis"] and for the Sith Lord to enter the office itself. There was no impatience displayed whatsoever, in truth Swimbolt understood the necessity for this kind of ceremony. Some men derived their power from their titles and domains they controlled throughout the Galaxy - they could not let others forget about them either, that... would defeat the purpose entirely.

"Your grace," Swimbolt greeted with a slight bow from the upper-part of his body. "Please, sit."

A chair, which was marginally bigger than the usual ones, had already been put before the table. It seemed that the Magister of Korriban City was well-prepared, especially when it came to honorary attaches from other Sith nations.

"Korriban City is, of course, grateful for the assistance extended by House Zambrano. Please let the Emperor know we appreciate his aid." Just as the ceremony of titles was important, it was also needed to exchange the usual pleasantries with foreign dignitaries, because at the end of the day it was all about propriety. You couldn't even seem to be insulting someone, unless you wanted a diplomatic row on your hands.

"If you'd please look here," He gestured towards a map of the City proper on his table. There were figurines that displayed the various parties currently involved in the humanitarian crisis. "The Starport is currently being used by attaches of the Sith Order; a flow of supplies, both medical and other, being flowed into the city. The City-"

Prazutis would notice that Swimbolt kept himself out of the equation. As far as the Magister was concerned he was the City and the City was him, there weren't any sidelined loyalties here.

"The City would appreciate it, if the Blackblades would move into the eastern parts of the region-" The glassing had been particularly intense there and would have to be heavily dug into, if they were to restore the walls there. "This is a fragile time, your Grace, we must act decisively and strong- to remain in control of the situation."

______________​

"We are helping here.​

This much is clear to me, yes.​

There is more to do.​

​

The city is strong.​

The people tough and hardy.​

But pressure must ease.​

​

There down the city​

In the south the walls down far.​

Screams and whines echo.​

​

Send more aid, Friend Vnut.​

We can bear it, this is true.​

Hearts and minds feel strong."​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The Dark Lord took the seat offered by the reputable Swimbolt while the droid accompanying him stood slightly behind and close to the side. It didn't surprise Prazutis that a man of his stature was prepared for any arriving dignitaries from other Sith nations, especially those as large in stature as the denizens of Panatha. He prided himself on keeping up to date on all the latest intel wherever he went and on any operations he undertook. A trait he brought from his old days as the Director of Intelligence for the vast One Sith Empire. Before its ultimate collapse when things went to hell Prazutis and his mentor faked their deaths and left that failing Empire, taking with them their branches of command and all their assets. It was a long and complex operation surrounded by secrecy and embedded with lies, but those lies served their purpose well and now the intelligence command was centered on Panatha.

Prior to his arrival to Korriban City he took the liberty of opening the dossier intelligence had on Magister Swimbolt, to see just what kind of man he was dealing with. The dossier wasn't very thick but it told him that Desmond Swimbolt was a stoic, calculating, intelligent, and efficient man at doing his job, by all accounts he was an excellent administrator. They were fortunate that this mess was dropped into the lap of someone with such an efficient background. Prazutis waited for the man to finish giving the usual formalities before he spoke once more "The Emperor and I felt it was the least we could do for the horrors the people of Korriban City have been put through at the hands of their would be protectors." Prazutis replied his attention fixed on the map of the city currently laid out before them. Rather than make use of a holo war table the man used a prepared map with figurines, relatively old fashioned but it worked just as well.

The magister explained the situation in a frank tone that the terrible situation warranted, making it much easier to pick out all of the problems. But what did catch the Dark Lords eye was that he didn't mention himself at all throughout the report. He didn't take the opportunity to pump himself up or take credit for anything that was going on to improve his position or status, simply referring to 'The City'. Either the man didn't have any confidence or simply had too much confidence in himself, that was yet to be seen. The eastern parts of the city were in the worst condition with more trapped streets and sectors, perfect for criminal opportunists and looters alike. "Efforts on the western portion have been highly successful with our guardsman and your city guards, they can handle the situation here. I'll issue an order for my legions to begin securing the eastern sector of the city." Prazutis said, grabbing a few more figurines off the side that were all the same shape to represent the relief centers they were working on establishing. "Prior to our arrival we analyzed the city for the best strategic locations for relief centers to house refugees, and to provide all the aid, and supply needs your people need. We designated these four locations throughout the city so far as the best locations, currently we have one operational and the second well on its way." He said placing the figurines on the map where the centers were, or would be located. "So far the priority we set on our labor forces has been putting out fires and clearing debris from the streets. If were going to begin the rebuilding process all congestion needs to be cleared. So far its going slower than we've expected so I'm bringing in some help. My graug will now be landing and also bringing with them a massive slave labor force to help speed things up."

[member="Tai Fa"]

 

[Jaster Awaud]

Location: Above Korribans Orbit

[member="Tai Fa"] [member="Maizono"] [member="CT-47B"]

Several ships exited hyperspace just above the planet Korriban, 3 having the mark of the First Order, the rest having the emblem of the Sith Order. This was a releif mission from the Forst Order, as such there was little to no ships protecting the supply ships. There were only 2 Corvettes that flanked the ships to protect it from privateers. On the bridge of the lead supply ship was a robotic man, emboldened with red and black fabric and a metallic First Order emblem on the right side of his chest. This was Governor Jaster Awaud of the planet Conglomerate Prime, he with the suggestion with two other troopers place a motion before the Supreme Commander and the Grand Moff. It was a long fight, but they got their approval and were sent on their way, but that was only the beginning.

It was unbelievably difficult to get permission from the Galactic Alliance to move through their borders with armed ships. As such they had to take an alternate route around the GA, and making the trip longer. Then there was the Silver Jedi who would allow them to assist Korriban, but would require an armed fleet to escort them through their territory, already being behind schedural they had no choice not to accept. Many of the First Order volunteers saw this as an act of cowardice by the governor, as he should have made a stand. He however didn't care for the voices of the soldiers and medics, only for results.

The ships now in orbit, Jaster only walked to the Com. Starion and radioed down to the surface. "This is Governor Jaster Awaud, Represitative of the First Order, we have brought relief supplies, a full manifest will be sent to your minister, permission to land."

 

[Darth Osano]

[member="Nyra Mazul"] | [member="Olom Grihk"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"]

No sooner had Nehk's agent left Eugene did the Guavian march back to Pollux and inform him of the situation. This was good- their first assistance of the day. Soon enough, all of the crates had been inspected and marked and were ready to be sent across the city. Now that some of the roads had been cleared thanks to the efforts of Prazutis, delivery would be that much easier. Speeder trucks were loaded up in accordance to what was being requested by the various aid outposts. Trucks destined for Nehk's medical facility were appropriately burdened with canisters of bacta, kolto, oxygen tanks, ammonia, and other miscellaneous medical supplies. Better safe than sorry. Other trucks were loaded with basic foodstuffs: Imperial rations, MREs, that sort of thing. These were dispatched to the slums and Mac's people would likely dine better than they had prior to the bombardment.

The Guavians that boarded the speeder trucks to help unload the supplies once they reached their destination were not alone. They were also accompanied by camera droids, to help document all of the Sith-led relief efforts. Everything would be documented, then run through post-production to add dramatic lighting so everyone looked more heroic. The various press organizations of the Stygian Caldera would eat it up voraciously, and from there it would spread to the rest of the galaxy. Pollux did not expect the droids to understand the nuances of their mission- like that it would not do well for anyone to document that Graug were here, acting as slave drivers, even if it was to help clean up the streets. They were remotely controlled from the hangar bay the Helix Syndicate had set up shop in.

After those first trucks left, a steady stream of them would continue to exit the spaceport and deliver supplies where they were needed. Oh, the joys of relief coordination. Oh, the magic of it all. What a time to be alive.