Ession's capital city had been ripped in two in the final battle between the loyalists and the Revolutionaries. The majority of the casualties were on the side of the loyalists, but anytime a soul of Ession was lost, the entire planet suffered. Most of the fires had been put out shortly after the battle was over, but a handful still raged on. The murderous gas released within the streets was being drained, though those around the central buildings were still required to wear gas masks.
Some civilians had suffered. Casualties were in the low hundreds, but even a hundred was far more than Graxin Rade was happy to accept. Ession was now the Reformation's, but its fate was still up to question. He would likely lead the world now, considering his position within the Reformation, but he was not concerned with that now.
For the moment, Rade found himself out in the streets. He stood outside one of the many medical tents. Where the medics and doctors repaired wounds with technology, Graxin relied on the force to heal the wounded. His hands hovered over a young man's torso, and his mind was focused on the gaping hole in his chest. A loyalist missile had sent shrapnel flying through him.
The boy was unconscious, and he had no family nearby to take care of him. That just made things easier. Graxin delved into the wound with the force, down to the cells that comprised the shattered tissues of his lungs. Carefully, he coaxed the cells to reproduce at an alarming rate. Too slow and he might lose the boy. Too slow and the lung might burst.
Under the watchful gaze of the pale moon, the lung repaired itself. Drained, Graxin breathed a heavy sigh, and tilted his head up toward the night sky. It was never truly night in Ession's capital, the city was a bustling center of neon signs and bright lights. Still, he found the night sky comforting. The Knight lingered there for a moment, allowing one of the medical droids to stitch up the wound while he regained his strength.
[member="Katrina Garnier"] (Join when you wake up Katttt) [member="Eyrina Ateo"]
Some civilians had suffered. Casualties were in the low hundreds, but even a hundred was far more than Graxin Rade was happy to accept. Ession was now the Reformation's, but its fate was still up to question. He would likely lead the world now, considering his position within the Reformation, but he was not concerned with that now.
For the moment, Rade found himself out in the streets. He stood outside one of the many medical tents. Where the medics and doctors repaired wounds with technology, Graxin relied on the force to heal the wounded. His hands hovered over a young man's torso, and his mind was focused on the gaping hole in his chest. A loyalist missile had sent shrapnel flying through him.
The boy was unconscious, and he had no family nearby to take care of him. That just made things easier. Graxin delved into the wound with the force, down to the cells that comprised the shattered tissues of his lungs. Carefully, he coaxed the cells to reproduce at an alarming rate. Too slow and he might lose the boy. Too slow and the lung might burst.
Under the watchful gaze of the pale moon, the lung repaired itself. Drained, Graxin breathed a heavy sigh, and tilted his head up toward the night sky. It was never truly night in Ession's capital, the city was a bustling center of neon signs and bright lights. Still, he found the night sky comforting. The Knight lingered there for a moment, allowing one of the medical droids to stitch up the wound while he regained his strength.
[member="Katrina Garnier"] (Join when you wake up Katttt) [member="Eyrina Ateo"]