Kiskla Grayson-Matteo
Redeemer
Aboard a Republic Frigate to Anaxes
There was never anything comforting about war. There was never any solace with battle. Even those with a bloodlust felt some sort of remorse — maybe. Kiskla wasn’t sure if the Sith that had attacked Coruscant felt much of anything. She hoped though, will all her heart, that they were in pain at least.
Many had been forced back, and now Kiskla and some other Jedi were onboard a frigate to Anaxes to regroup and discuss with the Senate their next step. But they didn’t have long for a conversation — not with the One Sith breathing down their necks.
There were things to be done, following the invasion.
First, the youthful master sent a correspondence of appreciation to The Jedi’s allies. The Chancellor could handle the Protectorate and Confederacy. It was imperative that she reach out to those that were assisting the Jedi however, in order to maintain allegiances. Something she’d grown used to her in her position of Reconciliation.
“To my brothers and sisters of the Silver Jedi,
[member="Iella E'ron"], [member="Rasu Gan"], [member="Hasjo Hallu"], [member="Xander Carrick"], [member="Thurion Heavenshield"], [member="Sochi Ru"], [member="Maya Whitelight"]
I want to extend a personal message of gratitude on behalf of the Jedi Order. Without your participation in protecting innocent lives on Coruscant, many would have been lost to the Sith’s shadow.
However, I cannot refer to what hit us as merely a figure of darkness, a shady image that is cast. These Sith are more than a shadow. They are the epitome of darkness and evil in the galaxy, and you helped us save lives from them.
For that, I am grateful. And indebted.” At this, Kiskla’s blue hologram dipped at the waist; physically ensuring her sincerity before she continued. For such a youthful face, she looked troubled beyond her years. Probably because of the responsibility she was facing — nevertheless, it would be faced with the capabilities she was known to have.
“I hope not to rack up too many debts however, but this is a vile enemy we must thwart.
If any of your knights wish to fight by our side again, we welcome them. This is not a threat we intend to ignore, and we will be fighting back.
Again, my wholehearted gratitude to those who risked their lives to save others. If there’s anything I can do, don’t hesitate to ask.
May the Force be with you all.” And then the transmission from the Master of the Order transmitted one more dutiful bow before ending.
So many questions were left unanswered. How many had died? How many families were ruined? Why had they come? How long had they been preparing for this? Why didn’t the Jedi kills these beasts before they came to The Republic’s capital? Who where they, and where did they come from?
Kiskla hoped to answer the latter. And carefully peel away what weren’t the correct options. She had seen something that day, through her enhanced psychometery, when she touched the shuttle the Sith had come in. No matter how many times she replayed the images to herself, however, the planet was unfamiliar to her. She needed help. The Jedi, nor the Republic, were juggernauts of wanton destruction and brutality. That label would be stuffed down the throat of any who dared insinuate it. They were defending their citizens against the real enemy. No bucket heads, no confused Jedi that called themselves dark, no monster hunters. The real enemy. Sith. Visions and manifestations of darkness. The kind of things that bumped in the night, the stories that parents told their children to get them to be obedient. The real enemy.
After she figured out where they came from, she hoped to visit each of the Jedi who were sick individually. Even if it was brief, and reinforce their morale. At least those also on this frigate to Anaxes. She had refused medical attention for herself until others who were far mores serious had been stabilized. Pride was only a fraction of that decision — necessity was the majority. The medical facilities were overrun with demand, and Kiskla only had torn skin and surface wounds. There were others far deeper. She had, however, accepted the insistence for bacta patches. These were against the arm that had suffered Vornskr’s blaster fire, stuck against the flesh beneath bandages. Her torso was also tightly wrapped and reinforced — but nothing could be done for bruises and slightly cracked ribs. The cuts on her face were dried; but they were small. And the burns from the lightsabers of manipulated padawans? They too would heal. Idly, she wondered if they remembered any of it; being Vornskr’s puppets to kill her.
Once the transmission ended, she sent a request to two masters who had fought to the bitter end with her. Two masters who had spent a portion of their life wandering through the stars and knew more about planets than she did. [member="Darron Wraith"] and [member="Ben Watts"]. They were somewhere aboard this ship, but she wanted an isolated room; and the briefing quarters served well enough — as she had a feeling they’d be needing a map to confirm their suspicions.
