The Exodus of Eshan

[Mariya Fleischer]

Location: Onboard [member="John Locke"]'s ship, in orbit above monastery​

Wearing: Tera-Kesh Robes made by Matsu Ike

The ship was getting closer to the planet as the engines roared, entering the atmosphere and reaching their final destination. The monastery grew bigger with each passing moment, but it would take a little while just before the ship could dock at the landing pad. Meanwhile, the technicians and engineers around were scrambling with last minute activities to make sure the ship was stable during the landing phase. Mariya was generally bad at piloting and was more than happy to just let the rest take over. Her mind was definitely wondering the same question that John had brought up. Could she heal an enemy? The galactic red cross would. So would the Je'daii masters and their teaching. There was no reason for her not to if the enemy was not hostile and incapable of causing harm.

"No, I cannot look past what happened. But I know how soldiers are like. If I were still a soldier, I would have no choice but to move forward in battle, regardless of whether the decision was sound. That said, perhaps one could technically desert the military but it takes a lot of guts." The blonde made a last glance at the damage caused by the invaders and decided she had seen enough. "Honestly? I am always wary of this trial." She took a deep breath to maintain her focus. The meditation she had been doing definitely helped to calm her emotions as opposed to her friend who was not taught in the ways of the Jedi, but there were certain benefits to meditation even for non Force Users. Besides, the Sith hardly meditated anyway.

By now, the ship had finally docked in place and the engines were shut off. It was time for the rescue mission to begin. The landing ramp was lowered and the crew began descending with the supplies and food.

"No point brooding about what is going to happen. I'll somehow figure things out," she smiled at her friend and indicated that they should leave as well. Her decision was final. She would complete her trial because of her beliefs and her learnings.

Neither the Silver Jedi, the Confederacy nor the Echani would be able to stop her actions, even if she risked incurring people's annoyance or anger.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Monastery​

The Confederate dropship lowered loudly into Camp Rogativa several standard hours after the attack on Eshan. Alkor stared blankly at the opposite wall, still struggling with everything happening around him. The decision to leave Mandalore was daunting enough, since he understood what it implied and what it meant for him moving forward. What he wanted to come to terms with now was that he had willingly submitted himself to the Confederacy, a soverign state that was on less than friendly terms with the Mandalorian Empire.

He knew who stood at the helm of that great nation as well, and the conflict that might arise if they came face to face. Isley Verd, the man who had made him Mandalorian, and the brother who walked away. That was the story they told at the Verd homestead. But now, Alkor had no right to any moral high ground, nor any reason for hostility.

The same might not be true of the man who was now called Metus.

Alkor was known as Warmaster of the Mando'ade, or he had been. In the past few hours, his defection would have made news. Chaos might have ripped through the ranks. One thing was certain- he was as much an enemy as anyone else, now. Not simply aruteiise, but Dar'manda.

No word had ever stung quite so much.

He sighed as the bay door slid open and the surviving Echani hurried, both to be treated and to find shelter. A dropship, while safer than the surface of Eshan, was hardly a comfort. The Confederates crewing the ship exchanged glances as they looked over the unarmed Mando, who had stripped away the now-useless plates of deteriorated Beskar. He understood now what had happened.

Orbital strike. He had been caught in a blast that should have had him dead to rights. Someone had ordered not simply to take the world, but to burn it. Again and again, he said he would do anything for the Mandalorian people. He promised to raise the Empire to greater heights and to lift it into prosperity. Alkor had sought a home where he could do something other than destroy for the first time in his life.

Again, he had not only cheated death, but brought it to so many. Alkor Centaris was done building civilizations. He was done simply burning them away. As he wondered what the next few minutes would bring, or if he would even live another day, the pilot stepped toward him.

"You saved us," he told Alkor. "We owe you one. I'll go make my report, and hopefully you won't be treated unfairly."

Alkor snorted, then managed a half-hearted smirk. "I'll take it," he rasped. "It's the best you've got, and I wouldn't ask for more than you can offer. It's only fair."

"Thanks for understanding," the man laughed. "You take it easy. That wound isn't exactly pretty."

Alkor patted his side, caked with fresh blood and dried in equal measure. "This?" he closed his eyes and let the pain burn at his insides. Pain was normal. It was constant. He had almost forgotten it, but here it was again. Why he ever ran from it was a mystery to him. "Don't worry about me," he said. "I've survived worse."

"If you say so," the pilot stepped toward the loading ramp. "Someone get that guy a MedPac. I'm gonna go report in."

[member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Kier Grey]

Kyle Weir
Eshan Surface, Refugee Camp #79
Nearby PCs: N/A

Challenged by an Echani squad Kyle's helmet inclines towards the boy, commanded to hand-over the child that foreign character who had arrived to aid the Echani releases their charge, Yusanis into the custody of his kin. The Child hesitates for a moment and turns their teary eyes back in direction of saviour. "Go boy." Kyle's dour voice ordered it earned a nod of acquiescence from the small child. Turning helmet lenses down to dwarfed woman standing off the right shoulder, Kyle felt notes the woman's desire though whether it was one of homicide or passion the austere Police Officer from Coruscant could not tell, was there truly a difference with the pale-skinned women of Eshan. The tension between the Near-Humans and their Human comrade could not be lost on an observer, they largely resented Sergeant Weir's presence on their world even as it burns desperately.

"That's the last one, no other survivors from the Caravan. Your soldiers are dead, they did slay many before falling." Kyle reports darkly, the Echani Commander who had looked at the mysterious Officer intently greets his news angrily.

"And you stood by and watched our kin be slaughtered?" Unmoved by the sudden outburst of emotion, Kyle did not understand that the question was rather rhetorical thanks to their years as a First Imperial Stormtrooper, why ask a question if you did not seek an answer?

Swallowing cooly, Kyle answers in such a calm passionless tone the Echani Warrior women find the Sergeant's presence just that much more irritating. "Had I done so, you'd have two more corpses instead of a survivor." Quietly, the Sergeant wondered if Yusanis would come to appreciate their rescue in years to come when the full depth of the boy's loss would strike his soul.

Surprisingly, the Echani Commander seemed satisfied with this answer their lips curl and offer up a rather disrespectful 'hmph' prior to turning their eyes from giant Human with only mild disgust. "Come, we're leaving. This planet." Faces finally turn away from Kyle and the Sergeant breathes a terse sigh of relief following behind the women brandishing their black blaster with the remains of a scratched out eagle barely visible on its' surface.

Boarding the final shuttle sitting amidst the empty tents of Refugee camp #79 Kyle presses their rifle's stock into the floor with its' barrel rising between their armoured knees. Silent, Kyle sits, silent absolutely wordless the curious Sergeant listened with effortless genetically modified hearing picking apart what little the Echani share for words between one-another. The Commander, Belapha stares with barely concealed furious anger towards Kyle.

"Where are we going?" Licking their teeth behind that lamellar metal visage, Kyle wasn't particularly bothered for the answer as more time than once in their life had obscure orders arrived sending them to some foreign unknown land.

"Monastery" One of the Echani warriors answer, the answer dripping from their tongue like poison pregnant with bitterness that Kyle accepted as typical for the species yet curiously it had been largely absent from the boy Yusanis.


[member="Alkor Centaris"], [member="Kalmann Ordo"], [member="Kasca Fen"], [member="Celiana"], [member="Tellu Talon"].

 

[Srina Talon]

​

Location: [Monastery] Camp Rogativa - Outside the Town of Leonasa​

Wearing: XXXX​

Standing Near: [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Tellu Talon"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Voph"] | [member="Nylea Apollodor"] | [member="Chikako Liona"] | [member="Kasca Fen"]​

Srina turned to Adron, pausing briefly, while they wove their way toward her sibling. She knew that the former Imperial meant well. He was one of her closest friends, aside from [member="Darth Metus"], and [member="Darth Tacitus"] and for the most part all mentioned seemed to have her wellbeing in mind. The silvery creature reached up and placed three chilled fingers lightly across his lips to hush him. “Mind your tongue.”, she intoned indifferently. Clear glacier eyes maintained a steady frozen temperature of absolute zero. “This is not the place. Not the time. Mecin, handa. [Please, understand].”

Her hand fell away and they continued forward. He was both right and wrong. The fight may not take long, however, the memory of what had been lost would linger. A member of the Confederacy joined their small party, [member="Voph"], and her head inclined gracefully at the bladesman. She was pale grace, elegant, and perfect as always. None, save for those that knew her best, would realize the turmoil that she almost effortlessly hid.

She did not have the luxury to feel.

“My sister…[member="Tellu Talon"] is heading up most of the relief efforts at this location. At this point supplies are critical. This many refugees is a drain on the resources of Monastery. We must continue arranging shipments to bring it to balance.”

Behind [member="Darth Metus"], near to [member="Voph"], she realized that [member="Kasca Fen"] had also joined them. The Sith Lord had briefed her on taking another Apprentice. He did so love his students, especially, when they leaned more toward spell weaving. It was part of his heritage after all. Even if Srina didn’t say it aloud, she appreciated the support, and knew that there would no shortage of work to be had.

Once they arrived to Tellu and a few others, including [member="Nylea Apollodor"] and [member="Chikako Liona"], she took no offense in not being greeted immediately. It didn’t take a genius to see that everything was in a state of topsy-turvey organized chaos. Her sister was busy. “We have all the droids you could ever need. General labor, medical, and if there is a specified plot of land we can use, [member="Voph"], has brought in shipments of our relief kits. They have built in housing, food, and medical supplies. It will cut down the workload. He’ll just need the proper coordinates.”

The conversation changed abruptly and Srina felt her sluggish blood move when Tellu opened her heart for all to see. Every worry, pain, and heartache rushed out so quickly that Srina struggled to keep up before the topic moved again. Back to business. Srina, thankfully, was used to digesting the undiluted stream of consciousness that came from her sibling. They were ice and fire, but still, very much so a family unit. Tellu wanted blood. Of course, she did. They all did. ‘Leave the bloodletting to me.’

She was pulled into an abrupt embrace. This, she understood. Messy emotions that clouded judgment and led to mistakes were things she directly tried to avoid. But this? She could hold Tellu until she felt collected enough to stand on her own. She had held her, all their lives, when things went wrong. This was no different. Her arms wrapped around the slightly taller woman and she peeked over her shoulder to see Nylea and Chikako. Both Echani. Both, with potential losses. When her sister pulled away heir eyes met, briefly, and a silent promise passed.

Blood would have blood.

“I understand. Kasca, if you’re good with younglings, perhaps aid in comfort and care. Adron—Can you please review security?”

[member="Darth Metus"] was already a busy bee, putting together details, and intel on what had really happened on Eshan. The news outlets were always extremely tilted. This left Srina to momentarily greet [member="Chikako Liona"] and [member="Nylea Apollodor"] properly. After that she intended to lend her hand in the healing tents wherever she was able. “If you have suffered losses I am sorry to hear it. Regardless, thank you for being here.”

Barely had the words passed her lips before a pilot from a recently arrived Echani ship rushed over toward them. She didn’t know his face, however, he had gotten her transmission for safe haven. The Exarch excused herself momentarily, though, not before touching Tellu’s arm. It was soft, barely there, but conveyed any of the emotion she seemed to lack. The report that the pilot made was a surprise. Srina frowned, briefly, before her features smoothed back into unblemished porcelain.

He had brought a wounded Mandalorian defector that had helped them escape?

From there she was led back toward the dropship that had landed in Camp Rogativa. There had been so many, in the last hour alone, that Srina had lost count. Silver eyes eventually found the large form she was looking for. Was he burned? Covered in ash and god knew what else she took her time before making the approach. It wasn’t until she saw his appearance fully that she felt struck by a sense of familiarity. “I know your face, traveler. Relinquish any weapons immediately.”

She didn’t dare say “Mandalorian” here. Not out loud, and not, when the attack was still so fresh in the mind. Strangely enough, she couldn’t place how she knew this man, only, that she did. When she moved there was no warning. No change in expression, or twitch in muscles, only speed. There was little more than a disturbance of air in her wake. A loud crack would resound, coupled, by a wave of unnatural cold. The sound was that of her open hand making a less than gentle connection with his face. It was an insult. Anyone worthy of being hit would have received a closed fist or a boot to the chest. “That is for daring to attack my home in the first place.”

But, according to the pilot, he had also saved them. This Mandalorian had supposedly turned his back on his people to save her own. Was it a trick? A ploy? She did not know. Not yet. “Your life is only yours in this moment because instead of slaughtering my people, I’ve heard, that you tried to save them. The pilot vouched for you.”

Her vision shifted. She could see his wound like a swirling set of angry black lines that finally centered on a red mass of pain. Injury. Srina once again reached for him, however, this time the action was slow. Visible. If she wanted to harm him further she would have geared up to actually make him feel it. When she could reach skin, she pushed her own energy into the wound, and endured the rush of weakness that followed in silence. The process would take time, though, she could deal with it much better than a cold pack.

This gave her time, albeit distracted, to speak.

“This is for the lives of the Echani you helped escort here. I will mend you. But, you will answer my questions. If you fail to do so I won’t hesitate to rip your wound back open, wider, so that nature may take its course. I am Srina Talon of the Confederacy. Who are you?”

And why did he not only look but feel familiar?

OOC: Sorry if I missed anyone. ​

 

[Adron Malvern]

Location: [Monastery] Camp Rogativa | Objective: Aid the Echani | Tags: [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Tellu Talon"] [member="Voph"] | Wearing: This...
II

Three soft fingers came over Adron's lips. Had it been anyone other than the wintry woman before him he would have likely ended their life for the gesture. He turned his head from Srina, her lips falling from their mark as his Amethyst eyes met her own. He said nothing, but offered the woman a simple not of understanding. There was a moment where the two shared a gaze and Adron tried earnestly to soften his expression. Srina had suffered enough and would likely suffer more before it was all said and done. His eyes adjusted, taking in the sight of [member="Voph"] for the briefest of moments. The Bladesman was a member of The Confederacy and had come to his Exarch's aid in proper order.

As [member="Kasca Fen"] took a place beside them Adron would incline his head to the woman. If memory served him well, he recalled the woman as his Master's latest apprentice. His lord certainly enjoyed taking numerous students, perhaps in an attempt to rapidly distribute his knowledge. Adron did not linger on it as Srina's voice sang his name once again, causing the man to level his eyes against the woman.

Another rushed into the group, bringing with him a warrior from the events on Eshan? A Mandalorian warrior no less. The Exarch's hand brushed against the blade that rested against his side, his eyes gazing over the man for a moment. Still his time for combat would come as Srina had asked him to verify the security of this operation. "I'll see it done." He glanced over to [member="Voph"] gesturing for the man to step to the side with him. "Knight Voph, a minute." He would lead the man to the side, producing a small datapad from his belt, giving it a one over before looking to the man. "I need your men to coordinate with the Confederate Relief Teams. We'll be having a lot of equipment coming in over the next few days and it will be a perfect time for someone to smuggle themselves onto the world. No matter what security is our highest priority so make sure all of your men check in and ID themselves through the proper avenues."

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Talking with: [member="Srina Talon"]
Nearby: [member="Adron Malvern"], [member="Voph"], [member="Darth Metus"], @others

He sat with both eyes closed awaiting judgment. The pain was extraordinary now that he concentrated on it, but he kept a level head in spite of his injuries. They could have been worse, and likely would have had it not been for the beskar'gam that endured an impossible amount of destruction and warded it away from his body. Who had called for the attack? It was supposed to be different. They were supposed to take the people alive, to subjugate them.

Or had that been a lie, too?

For all the time Alkor spent as Warmaster of the Mandalorians, many of his words had gone unheeded. There had been attacks he cautioned against, and this one marked an attack he outright disagreed with. The decision to leave was one of the hardest he had ever made, and yet every moment that passed it felt like much less of a burden.

The voice was unfamiliar to him. His eyes moved toward her, albeit glazed over from the agony that wracked his body. Alkor did not recognize her. She demanded he disarm, and he tossed aside the carbine that rested lazily in his lap. After a moment's struggle, he hoisted himself up against the wall and disengaged the lock that secured the blade's sheath to his waist.

He held the blade out for her to take. Instead, he was met with an open palm to his face. Alkor did not waver, nor did he respond violently. He had earned their contempt, and at this point, the likelihood that he would die anyway was extremely high. Ever the creature of logic, he exhaled from between clenched teeth.

It was not a strike intended to harm him physically. She was clearly Echani- if she wanted to hurt him, the traditions of her people dictated that she could have. If there was any pride or honor left in him, she had duly rid him of it. His expression remained constant.

Then, she spoke. His eyes wandered from her gaze when she spoke of the destruction, and his vain effort to save what few lives he could. Why he had bothered at all was beyond him. He could have died there in combat, the only thing he knew. Instead he was alive. Instead, again, he was without a purpose.

"They said it was an occupation," he muttered. They had lied to him. They had lied to everyone. Still, Eshan burned, and no one was answering for it. "They claimed it was slavers, said we were driving them out. None of it makes sense."

He felt a chill ripple through his body, and flesh, sinew, and bone shift beneath his undershirt. Blood flowed backward, as if time was being undone, and he could feel pain equal to the wound opening rage through his torso. The Force. His eyes moved to her hand, then back to her face.

Hilarious. Saved by an Echani, immediately after his people had slaughtered hers. What would Keira say? Keira... he pushed the argument with his sister from his mind and focused on the words of the woman before him. After all, the Verd clan wouldn't take him back now.

"If you had asked me several days ago, I would have said I was Warmaster to Yasha Cadera, Mand'alor of the Clans." He sounded extremely bitter, even caustic as he said it, "but the Mandalorians stopped heeding my counsel long before that. I was a Mando of Clan Verd, but now, I can't even say that. You have me at a loss- all I am now, is Alkor Centaris. I have no home, or people."

 

[Kyyrk]

Voph nodded to [member="Srina Talon"] and was about to turn towards @Tallu Talon when [member="Adron Malvern"] requested his presence. He stepped away from the group with the man, head bowed as he listened to what the man had to say. Security issues. Of course. Voph had been...somewhat prepared for such things, but even he had to admit he was running on fumes here. Same as all the rest of them. "Of course, My Lord. I've already surrendered them to the command of the relief task force. They know what is expected of them. We've been conducting internal security sweeps already, but it's been difficult."

Voph turned to look back at the landing pad in the distance, the Octarchy shuttles now landing refugees. "Our losses were...considerable, under the circumstances. We're still trying to account for those killed or missing in action. As you might expect, Eshan is a total war zone by now." He turned back to face Adron. ​"I'll have our personnel verified by the time our refugees are offloaded, keep what men I can spare here to keep the peace, help where needed, and send the ships for more supply."

Voph pulled his gauntlet up, and tapped a few buttons on the datapad embedded in it. "As Lady Talon has placed you in charge of security, I'm authorizing your command of any and all Octarchy forces as you see fit." Voph pointed at the datapad in Adron's hand. "Anything you need my assistance in, you have my frequency there." Voph took a minute to look over the surrounding area. He sighed quietly. "I've seen this before too many times. I had hoped it would be much longer before I ever saw it again."

 

[Chikako Liona]

The crowd of CIS personal and other high ranking politcal figures had certainly grown quite fast in the past half an hour, even the Viclord was present along worth what she could only assume to be the Silver Jedi representative. This Eshan occupation was certainly a serious event for those in the CIS, more so with the Talon family, she wondered how they were coping with such an issue. Knowing their home world had been subjected to such a bloody and fabricated invasion, the ME showing their true face once again.

Time after time their Empire had hidden behind Yasha and her, 'we are peaceful now' only to constantly attack the Silver Jedi, New republic and other lesser nations for personal gain. It was quite comforting that word about a counter invasion would soon take place, one to make the ME pay for their crimes and hopefully get a taste of their own medicine. That time would come though, for now she needed to focus on the task at hand and hopefully coordinating with some of the political leaders that arrived at the camp.

Only problem was no one seemed to notice her presence only [member="Srina Talon"] offered any sort of greeting but could not stay to talk long, most congregating in a large group and discussing matters on their own accord. "Well, that is hierarchy for you", she would have to expect as much, here her title did not mean much and her relationship with the Viclord and other ministers was next to non existent.

People Nearby: [member="Alkor Centaris"] [member="Adron Malvern"] [member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Kasca Fen]

Location: [Monastery] Camp Rogativa - Outside the Town of Leonasa
Wearing: XXXX
Standing Near: Adron Malvern | Darth Metus | Tellu Talon | Srina Talon |

Orders were given to a great many people who had come to assist and it seemed Tellu had them all in hand despite her emotion so close to the surface one didn't need to be an Empath to feel the breadth of it. She kept herself together in an admirable force of will and only when she was done for the moment, did she allow for Srina to give her the comfort she must have needed. Anyone would.

She watched the tender scene of sister and sister embracing with no small amount of curiosity. What would it be like to have siblings like that? Honestly, Kasca could not imagine. There was no one in which she took that measure of comfort or solidarity. Her brother, wherever he was, was an angry, bitter man and all the proclivities of the worst of her species. Her family was on Arkania, dead to her for all intents and purposes. They had been since before she left the Jedi. So, the Mandragora were her family now... of a sorts. What an odd family it was, yet it was the one she had and the one she cared for.

Kasca smiled a bit at Aldron before she returned her attention to Srina and gave her a slight bow. "Aye. I do very well with children. Leave their care to me." She was gone then, leaving them to the business they needed to do. She wasn't a military leader or a great healer. She was a telekinetic and a Mandragora and highly organized. For now, her service could be the calming and reassurance for the children effected by this act of depravity. She could split her time between coordinating supplies and entertaining the children. Children loved watching a telekinetic work. No doubt much of what she would do for them would be like magic. What better way to distract them from the devastation around them.

Orders were given to a great many people who had come to assist and it seemed Tellu had them all in hand despite her emotion so close to the surface one didn't need to be an Empath to feel the breadth of it. She kept herself together in an admirable force of will and only when she was done for the moment, did she allow for Srina to give her the comfort she must have needed. Anyone would.

 

[John Locke]

Location: In Orbit above Monastery
Nearby: [member="Mariya Fleischer"]

​

There was a strange quiet that seemed to envelop a ship when it had landed, when the engines had shut off. It felt dead, bereft somehow, the living forces that had possessed it mere moments before. John rested his hands on the side of his chair, pushing himself upright, his footsteps lost in the hubbub of the crew filing out, shutting down the ship and rushing to the exits, to loose themselves in the world, to assuage the pain they all felt, deep in their souls, the scars of seeing the fall of Eshan to the Mandalorian invaders. Yet in the middle of the sea of humanity, there was a small island that developed, the crew moving around the two for a moment as they went about their duties.

Tilting his head, the man nodding in the direction of the door, his hands sinking into his pockets as he padded in the direction of the portal. "Something tells me you always manage to figure it out, but this time, I think that we can help with that." John fell silent for a few steps as he glanced out of a window, watching the refugees in their camps. "Out there, there are people hurt, people who need help. They might have supported the Mandalorians, some might have fought against them but...in the end, it doesn't matter anymore after the fighting's over the blasters are put down only the hurt remains. If you want to go out there and heal them, well, I can't really gainsay that, I've got nothing but respect for someone who just wants to help people like that." Reaching out John thumbed open the elevator, letting his friend precede him before he followed. "If you're going to try the trial in the middle of an actual warzone...well I can't stop you, I wouldn't want to ever try. I'm pretty sure you'd leave me lying in a heap on the floor if I'd tried. Just, you know, be careful." There were a lot of people out there who didn't take into account the healers, the innocent in combat. The last thing he wanted to see was his friend caught up in the crossfire.