Private Rust and Resolve

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Malastare

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

On the edge of the Malastare forests, where the refineries has gone quiet, the smell of fuel buried in the wind rolled off the tree line. Ace crouched near the half-collapsed fuel line, one hand steadying the pressure gauge as the other worked a spanner into place. The hiss finally eased, and the pipe's tremor went still. He let out a breath through his nose, glancing toward the horizon where the smoke from the nearest settlement was just beginning to rise. Another evacuation gone wrong.

A soft chirp came from behind him. Tic was perched on a crate, tilting his head as he scanned the treeline. What followed were a series of short beeps that Ace had come to recognize as impatience.

"Uh-huh." He murmured, responding to the little BD-unit. They were running behind.

The convoy waited in a rough semicircle of speeders and supply crates. Their mission was simple: help who they could, get out before anyone noticed. Technically, they had no jurisdiction here. Republic territory. But the Path never refused aid to those who needed it. Interestingly, a Padawan affiliated with the Republic's Jedi Order came to aid. Isobel Serraris. He hadn't really spoken to her, didn't have much to say.

Ace stood, wiping his hands on his sleeve. Then he checked the line of evacuees waiting for rations. Eyes hollow. Faces streaked with dust and dirt. The kind of people who'd learned not to expect help from anyone with a badge or a flag.

Then he heard footsteps crunch through the underbrush. A woman in a dark green jacket approached with a datapad in hand. Tress, one of the Path's field operatives. Her face was drawn tight.

"You're gonna want to see this." She said, handing it over. "More missing reports from the refugee camp north of here. A dozen people, maybe more. Last seen near the Urus Fuelworks."

Ace frowned, scanning the file. The report included coordinates, timestamps, and a few shaky accounts from survivors who claimed to hear machinery underground. "Says the site's been shut down for years."

"Supposedly." Tress said. "Locals swear they've heard the drills again. We were going to send a team, but… no one's come back yet."

Ace looked past her toward the tree line. The air was still, too still, and somewhere far off, a low metallic groan rolled across the forest like a distant echo.

He shut off the datapad and passed it back. "I'll check it out."

Tress hesitated. "You sure? I know you carry a lightsaber, but if the ground's unstable--"

He cut her off with a faint shake of his head. "It's fine."

Behind him, Tic gave a low, anxious trill. Ace glanced down at the little droid, one corner of his mouth twitching. Guess that was two votes against. Didn't matter, Ace was running the show.

"Keep the convoy ready. If it goes bad, get these people out."

Tress nodded. "Be careful, Moonbound."

Ace adjusted the strap across his waist, checking his lightsaber's weight at his hip. "Careful's overrated."

Tic hopped up to his usual perch on his shoulder, claws clinking softly against his leather chestplate. He took a few steps toward the treeline. Then, without turning, he called back over the noise of the camp.

"Hey, Padawan." He said, voice level but carrying. "You're with me."

And with that, he started down the trail, the forest swallowing his silhouette as the hum of the convoy faded behind him.

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

RUST AND RESOLVE​

Location — Malastare
Objective — Help the evacuees . . .
Tags — Acier Moonbound
Paraphernalia — Lightsabers

Despite the flourishing nature on this planet, the garden of the Force lay tainted by shadows--some cast by bright lights and being identifiable from afar, while others lay obscured, hidden beneath the surface. Whatever may be the cause of this rot, Ashla refused to guide her servant to its core. Though other forms of clarity could be found in the present, in those injured by the greed of others, in the smell of fuel that nigh on burned her nostrils. Her displeasure was, no doubt, but a fraction of what the inhabitants of the planets have encountered, time and time again. No matter how much she tried to patch up the victims these last few days, and aided in their displacement, the number of incidents kept rising.

Just as it did today.

The Nabooan had been poisoned by nightmares, bad omens of disaster... And the more she dreamt, the clearer these images grew: A raven circling a sun of sorts, or a star, its wings cutting through the heavy clouds of smoke and soot. The trees surrounding it crackling from flame, though their sounds were drowned out by the sobs and screams of others. It had taunted her in her sleep, over and over again, and sharper than this, the vision would not get. But a sun? What sort of madness must that encompass? Fire? Destruction? Tssk, the Force spoke in riddles, and she ultimately failed to see the reason in their guidance.

Though one way or the other, it was not only she that was drawn to this place, members of this rebel cell seemed to have taken notice of the worsening situation on Malastare. What had been their name? The Hidden Path? Hm, she could not find reason in hiding underground and operating there, as if she ever saw reason in war. . .

One such member of the Hidden Path was a boy her age, bearing a lightsaber on his hip--Yet from the way he addressed her, he did not align with the Jedi Order, or... did not take much of a liking to Shiraya's Order. But she gave no protest to his order and followed after him, pacing to keep up with the rebel. "The fuelworks, I presume?" She said at first, her voice soft and melodic. "Some of the refugees I've spoken with, said they had family hidden away in that area, the ones that refused to leave."

It must be difficult, to abandon one's life and belongings for a mere warning. And depending on the tone of its herald, one might not even take the hazard seriously. "By Shiraya. . . Had I known it would escalate once again, I would have tried something myself." Isobel swore, it felt unfair for these people to now suffer because of the actions of these corporations or mayhap even her Republic.

Though there was little time for introductions if lives were at stake, she still introduced herself, but her brown eyes remained on the smokeclouds in the distance. "I am Isobel Serraris, though I feel as if that matters little now, Rebel."

​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Malastare

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

Ace didn't slow his pace when she caught up. The trail narrowed as the forest closed in around them, roots coiling over the old service road like veins. Tic rode his shoulder, lens flicking between the Padawan and the shadows ahead.

"Good instincts." He answered "Refugees are saying folks went in and didn't come out. Figured the two Force users should investigate."

The light broke through the canopy, catching on the edge of his lightsaber hilt when he shifted it aside. Her tone had that softness he'd come to expect from Jedi... measured, calm. It also held some regal cadence that reminded him of Sibylla, maybe Isobel was a noble, too.

Isobel's mention of Shiraya drew a dry huff through his nose. But her words that followed, about trying herself if she'd known earlier, had him change tune.

"I get it. But, we can do something about it now."

When she introduced herself, Ace glanced at her and nodded, a faint smirk drawing on his lips. He stepped over a fallen branch, scanning the treeline as the low rumble of machinery rolled beneath their feet again.

"Ace." He said, introducing himself "'Rebel' works too." His attempt at a joke.

Tic gave a sharp double-beep, like a warning. Ace's hand dropped to his belt instinctively, but nothing moved among the trees. Just the sound of distant metal shifting, a deep groan from somewhere below ground. He relaxed and exhaled calmly.

"You said some of the families stayed behind?" Glancing toward the direction of the sound "We start there then."

He kept walking, the BD-unit's light flickering across the undergrowth ahead. As they travelled further toward the Fuelworks, he remained silent, listening as the chirp of insects shifted into shifting metal.

A few minutes later, the underbrush thinned and the ground began to slope. Between the trunks, the faint silhouette of a structure came into view. A collapsed entryway jutting out from the hillside, half-swallowed by moss and vines. A faded emblem was still visible across the metal plating in Aurabesh:

URUS FUELWORKS - SECTOR 9
​

Ace came to a stop resting a hand on one of the exposed pipes. The metal was cold. No vibration, no hum of active machinery. He crouched, brushing aside the leaves and debris.

"If anyone's alive, they'd head for shelter. Or they didn't make it out."

He hesitated a moment before moving further. The pipe beneath his hand thrummed faintly, just for an instant, but enough to make him still. Heat bled into his palm. Suddenly, the quiet forest was gone. A flash. There were screams, then the whine of drills spinning out of control. A choking haze of smoke and molten metal. Then silence again.

Ace pulled his hand back, flexing his fingers once as if to shake something loose. Tic gave a curious beep, leaning forward to study his expression.

"They were here." He sighed. "Didn't make it far."

Before he could say more, Tic hopped down from his shoulder and flicked on its spotlight. The narrow beam cut through the darkness, dancing across twisted rails and rusted stairs as the little droid chirped something that sounded far too eager.

Ace shook his head. "Alright, lead the way then."

He drew his lightsaber but didn't ignite it yet, following the BD-unit's glow as it skittered toward the opening. "Stay close." He said to Isobel without looking back. "If the floor gives, we're not getting a second chance."

Tic's light disappeared first, swallowed by the shadows of the Fuelworks, and Ace followed after.

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

RUST AND RESOLVE​

Location — Malastare
Objective — Help the evacuees . . .
Tags — Acier Moonbound
Paraphernalia — Lightsabers

Inaction was not always viewed as the worst approach, or lack of approach. Or so her kin had taught her, feeding her spoonfuls of teachings about patience and observation rather than the action she so dearly sought to undertake. And what had been the result of it now? Refugees exposed to hazards that could have been prevented, had she acted. His words brought little solace to the ache, yet a Jedi must not falter when a storm or mishap wishes to lead them astray. A bitter pill to swallow when lives were at stake.

"Ace?" She said, more akin to a question than confirmation. "I meant no offense, I do not know what to call the members of the Path... group." Isobel offered an apologetic glance, and did not inquire further about what the insurrection was doing on Malastare -- aside from helping the High Republic's people. Yet she lacked the authority to send them away, or rather, did not wish to face her master's and council's judgment on her escapade. They would still ask her about it eventually, but hopefully when she had good news to deliver in return. "And who is your little friend? He seems adorable." Her eyes twinkled as she looked upon the small droid that sat perched atop of his shoulder.

Duty demanded she paid attention to her surroundings once more as they neared a collapsed entrance to one of the fuelworks many sites. Isobel attempted to move the heavy vines and the fallen tree branches out of the way to check if there was still any opening. Before the weight grew tiresome on her arms and she took a step back, studying it whilst her companion remained fixated on a metal pipe. "We should still check the passage, who knows if they got injured on the way out and are stuck." The protest left her weakly, swiftly drowned out by the sound of one of her lightsabers igniting. A pink blade leaving the floral emitter along with a louder hum that echoed throughout the alcove and beyond.

With two hands on the hilt, she guided the blade through the vines and branches blocking the road ahead. The heat burning through the plants with ease, and though it ached her, it was necessary if lives were at stake behind these blockades. The lightsaber hummed loudly through the Dragite gems in its core, though the Force rippled louder around the hand of Ace--and though it did not escape her, its meaning eluded her. So as the blade retracted into its core and the hilt briefly returned to her belt, she turned back to him with a question, or ten. "How do you know?" Left her lips first, all he did was look upon the metal and yet the Force harmonised with him. He carried a lightsaber, but she doubted him to be a padawan... It was strange.

"The Force resonated with you in a way and yet I saw nor felt anything change." The Nabooan proceeded, before following the droid into the narrow entryway. Her steps careful upon the metal plating, yet each bit of pressure forced another creak to appear. Some of the wear and tear had forced parts of the passage to sink, imbalancing the roads they trod. With a trembling hand, she unclipped the single-bladed lightsaber from its holder and ignited it, casting a bright pink light throughout the hall. Some of the walls carried oil stains where the pipes had opened--a possible risk for later--whilst others bore scars, mayhap from alien refugees or the local fauna that sought a place to hide? Isobel could not determine what creature may possible hide in one of the fuelworks passages. "Ace, come look at this." She beckoned him closer, pointing at the deep scars in one of the metal plating, bearing three claws from the looks of it.

​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Malastare

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

Ace glanced her way when she spoke his name. The apology in her voice was genuine, soft enough to cut through the hum of the forest.

"It's fine." He said "Was just trying to lighten the mood."

Then, the Padawan called Tic 'adorable', the little droid chirped excitedly, bouncing slightly on Ace's shoulder. He chuckled through his nose again, then threw a thumb in front of his shoulder - pointed toward the BD-unit.

"Little guy's name is Tic. Don't let him fool you, he's not as sweet as he looks." The BD-unit emitted an offended squawk, earning a quiet snort from him.

When Ace had investigated the pipe, Isobel had moved ahead. Her lightsaber flaring to life with a pink shimmer, cutting through the overgrowth in deliberate strokes. She had suggested still checking the passage, he didn't answer, but he agreed internally.

Eventually, she returned, the pink of her blade bled across his leather chestplate, tracing the curve of his shoulder before flickering out. Isobel asked him how he knew the refugees here didn't make it far.

"I can sense echoes." He answered. "Impressions burned into the Force. Places, objects, people... everything leaves something behind. I can read it when I focus. It's like listening to a voice that's already gone, but still screaming. Useful, but doesn't make it pleasant."

He let the silence stretch between them, dark eyes lingering on her for a moment. The air around Isobel carried a texture in the Force, unique to her, not commanding or 'whole' like most Jedi he'd met. Not yet, at least. But it was steady. Warm. It reminded him of soil after rain, of growth pushing through ash. Wherever she stepped, the cold in the air felt a little less heavy.

Then, they followed Tic into the dark. If they wanted to check for survivors, it was best they start there. The rebel could sense that she was tense shortly before she ignited her lightsaber again.

His own blade flared to life after, its blue glow illuminating his freckled features. After a short time, Isobel called out to him, summoning him over to come and look at... something. What she showed him were three claw marks, carved into the metal plating.

He reached out, fingertips tracing the uneven grooves. The Force stirred again, it wasn't the faint static of distant memory, but something fresher, sharper.

The walls came alive with motion. Sparks, shouting. The echo of steel bending under claws. A worker screaming as the lights went red. Then a shape, low, metallic, crawling along the ceiling. Then, the vision snapped back into silence.

Ace drew a slow breath through his nose "Mining droids." He muttered "Old ones. Rogue, too. Or... something's purposefully messed with them."

Tic warbled uneasily, swiveling its lens toward the shadows ahead. The faint hum of machinery rumbled deeper below.

Remembering what he sensed earlier from Isobel earlier, he halted from proceeding further for a moment.

"You alright?" He asked, giving her the space to reveal her feelings - or not.

Isobel Serraris ​