Faction The Scars of Kintan (SJO and any/all jedi)

[Elise]

"Aye, Silver," she confirmed, voice soft as she looked to the sky. Images passed sharply though her-- the taste of metal in her mouth as the sky darkened with the presence of the sith SSD overhead.

She swallowed hard as the flashback passed, blinking back to find the morning sun shined down as brightly as it ever did. In the distance, light rebound'd off of Peace's surface, reflecting the back into space. How fitting.

"It's come along well," she commented, standing up herself. She had been on it once before, before this whole incursion, back when the sith threat was nothing but a fear.

Perhaps it was time she paid it another visit. Words had been said that needed solidification.

She met him halfway on the ramp, taking the crate in a pass off and bringing it to the pile so neither had to walk all the way up or down the incline.

"How is it there?" Came the inquiry as she met him in the middle again.

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Elise

"Big enough to be quiet. I can get lost in research for a couple of days at a time if I want, never see another living soul." He handed off another crate and went back up for the next.

Over his shoulder, he added: "I ran the numbers once on volume. Ran'em twice actually because I didn't believe it. Forty-klick radius means a volume of a quarter million cubic kilometers. You could fit a planet's population in there if you really needed to. There's only a few dozen people aboard at any given time - Jedi from everywhere. Paradise. Some hazards, not a lot of amenities, or I'd be saying let's shuttle everyone up there."

Something twinged in his back as he hefted a crate. Clear-headed now, he applied Force healing to his old bones and kept lifting.

"Which we could do, with the right supplies there for them, the right plan."

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Kintan was more than likely one of the worst battlefields that Aaran had ever found himself on during his career as a Jedi. He had seen the scenes of grisly murder. He had seen death and destruction. But never on this scale. Never with such wanton abandon. The Sith did not care for order. It was only an excuse, an illusion they painted over their brutality. A lie they told themselves, a delusion to hold themselves above others.

No Empire that truly held the ideals of order to such heights would attack a relatively undefended, civillian target with such overwhelming force if they did not seek to especially cause as much suffering as possible. The entire point was seemingly to cause as much collateral damage as possible. For all their rants about how the Jedi were the true villains in their narrative. They were always the first ones to resort to such barbaric tactics.

But they had failed.

Let that simple fact be burned into the history books. Despite all their claims of power, despite all their brutality and the loss they inflicted. They still failed. They did not take Kintan. Nor did they break her people's spirit. Already the refugees were returning. Rebuilding their lives. The Sith tried to kill hope, but as always, it endured. An unquenchable flame and desire to live on, even thrive despite the hardships.


People had died, so much pointless death. But countless more people had be saved due to the actions of the Silver Jedi Order and their allies. And that was a victory that should be celebrated. Mourn the lost certainly, but never forget to celebrate that you were still alive.

"Ha hah! Good to see you still kicking!" A boisterous, jubilant voice was heard as a pair of muscular arms wrapped around Auteme and Ryv both. As none other than Aaran Tafo grabbed both of his friends in a massive bear hug. The burly Padawan having no issues lifting both of his smaller comrades up a foot off the ground into his affectionate embrace. His presence was like some kind of great ursine creature. Warm, affectionate even playful in the right circumstances. But also fiercely protective of those under his care.

And if either of the other two Padawans craned their necks to get a better look at their rather loud friend, they'd see that Aaran had hardly escaped the battle unscathed. Nearly half of his face had been covered in a bacta patch. His hair, normally long and tied back into a ponytail had been shaved short to allow room for the bandages to cover a good portion of his head. Small, faint burns could be seen poking out at the edges.

His arms as well were covered in a serious of cuts and other minor burns. Some of them even appearing to have been inflicted by a lightsaber. His entire right arm up to the shoulder had been entirely covered in bandages, the faint smell of bacta and antiseptic could be detected if one inspected it closely enough.

But he was there, alive and vibrant. His cheer and energy almost like a beacon of positivity, threatening to infect the rather morose Kiffar with his relived mood. So happy he was to see that his friends were still alright.

 

[Jessica Med-Beq]

"Master Med-Beq. Wildcards here. Where do you need us most?" Kei Amadis asked Jessica.

"Get me whoever is in charge of the ground forces" Victor Akani asked.

"Get the following back in service: aqueducts, hospitals, spaceports for survivors: these are vital for ensuring the well-being of any survivors left in the city"

Of course, the Auxilia Fleet was to remain in orbit, and secure the orbital portion of the supply lines, and that was not her business. What was her business, on the other hand, was not simply search-and-rescue, but also to ensure the essential infrastructure was operational. Luckily, the planet's power grid was not centered solely on New Kalandra so hooking up temporary power generators was not an issue. It really was just that: temporary. However, the Fortress being severely damaged, for now the space would be dedicated to triage, medical and food supplies. Yet, Jessica knew reconstruction efforts would take a while, and engineering troops were called in alongside the food supplies. The Sith learned the hard way that a defender of the light is most dangerous when cornered. However, the Sith chain of command proved to be as tunnel-visioned as ever, she thought, while the remnants of the fortress were being prepared for housing a makeshift tent of medical workers or droids. Meanwhile, molecular furnaces were transforming rubble into dry duracrete, durasteel and other construction materials.

 

[Sera Inkari]

Steps alone were heavy and the silence only proved harder to carry with each footstep up the peak. The storm shelters shielding winds from the canyon of despair lay in ruins beneath the mountain, only protected by natural land formation, no long man-made design. The last insult of a departing foe. Pathways upward toward the temple had been hit by blaster fire, and further dry blood was upon a rock face. She rested her hand to the wound and remembered walking here many times. A harsh place used to storms capable of killing strangers if they were caught unawares in the wastelands. Closest to the mountain range it allowed an oasis of sorts well shielded from the dangers of the wind, only the heat sapped the strength of strangers here. None of that had given shelter from the Sith.

Thoughts all quietened. Finally, she saw her home. The door was gone, but the wall was standing. They were alive? They were sheltered or hiding, or had fled? She quickened her pace up the last few steps, and threw herself into the doorway clutching at the edges of the stone.

Watching.

Chairs were overturned, lumps of stone scattered across the floor, fallen against...

Watching.

The fountain of life, a pure water source that had been so important was now running black. Shapes and outlines inside of it....

Watching.

Where something remained, arranged within the water.

A test of silence. There were no voices to hear. There was nothing to rebuild. No one left to blame. Permanence.
Spilled water ran purer than the fountain. All from one priestess, who sat pulling bodies out of the water, and weeping over her homeland.

 

[Elise]

Her eyes went wide, the woman looking back over her shoulder in turn at his account. “...Impressive,” she breathed, a nudge of the force catching the crate as it slipped slightly out of her grasp. She straightened it, making sure the weight was balanced, his account running through her mind. And then an idea formed.

When she turned back to him, her expression was composed. Restrained. As if the woman was suddenly holding her cards close to her chest. In truth it wasn’t her cards, but the order’s. “What would you need?” She hated this aspect of things— trading help for personal gain, it wasn’t how the Jedi were meant to work. Not in her opinion. Yet somehow, politics always got in the way.

So about those lacking amenities.

Jend-Ro Quill

 

[Judah Lesan Jr.]

Judah waited by the wreckage. He had no desire to return to the site where he had almost met his end, but there some things which were more important than his own comfort.

Kyra.

Her experience on this world had been tragic and met with darkness. For her sake she needed to face the darkness and overcome it. Judah expected some kind of protest, but she seemed to go along with it for now. They would talk later, but while she faced her own darkness, Judah had to come to terms with a near death experience. He had almost died saving Kyra, and now he had to bring her through the hardest part... living with it.

She would succeed, and if he was needed, Judah was not far off. As he sat on some of the rubble, Judah began to meditate for once. Searching his own thoughts he needed to come to terms with what his own event had revealed. It was a truth he did not want to wrestle with, but had to. If he did not, he would place both himself and Kyra in danger.

Kyra Perl

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Elise
Quill sat down again, tired. A powerful headache had set in and he was at least twice Elise's age. "Don't mind me, it's been a day. Um, if I was to guess...industrial solid fuel/ration converters, the kind that can turn any kind of biomass into food or power cells. Water recyclers on a similar scale. A huge portion of Peace is basically just empty space rigged for light, heat, air, and gravity. Bedding, lots of bedding for sleeping on the old metal bunks. Medkits, immunizations. Public health droids. Basic terminals and datapads, in bulk. It would be easier than what we've got to do down here: up there, folks could set up habitation zones before any refugees arrived. With all of that, and the groundside logistics to get everyone moving, Peace could take all the refugees Kintan's got. Short term, anyway. I don't make those decisions, mind you, not for any of this. I'm just a tired, heh, tired old man talking."

 

[Elise]

Elise gave a soft nod, listening intently. A silence descended upon her as she considered, but in the end he would receive no answer from her. She wasn’t the one to make the decisions either, but she was among those that did. She would take this to them, then. See what she could do.

It was a good option.

A heavy sigh finally fell from her lips then, her thoughts heavy and without immediate answers. She brushed this aside, focusing on the present. And presently? She owed him gratitude. “Here,” she murmured softly again. Her fingers fumbled with her waist band, pulling out a bar of crushed grains and altered nutrients meant to serve as a meal replacement for moments on the field. It was all she had, but she offered it anyway.

Just as he had with the crates. It was a poor substitute, but it was a start.

Jend-Ro Quill

 

[Zara Tate]

New Kaladra
p3

In the most northern part of town. Zara stumbled upon three military trucks. Two trucks for soldiers and one truck for work droids. Nearby were the sounds of digging and scrapping. In the remains of a half destroyed tower was the sight of a dozen silver work droids. Some were moving rocks into new piles and some were clearing rubble from the roadway. Meanwhile, a team of three men in bright yellow fatigues and white helmets were scanning the building with antenna equipment.

On the other side of the road. Past the three trucks. A small squad of Rangers was assembling loose scaffolding around another half crushed building. Zara recognized their shoulder patch and went to investigate.

Looking like a local, or, at least a bit native. One of the Rangers shook his head and approached her instead. He spoke in both basic and Huttese,

"Work zone. No access. Locals down to the tents in the south. Food and water."

As he repeated the words in Hutt, she removed the cloth from her face. Revealing the young human woman underneath.

"It's alright. I'm Jedi. Volunteers from Peace station. I've been assigned to assist recovery teams with finding military survivors in the ruins. I'm looking for Corporeal Vale."

The Ranger seemed surprised at her easy Coruscanti accent. Then motioned back towards the trucks.

"Vale's up in the air conditioning. Lead truck. Front of the column."

"Thanks. I'll go say hello." Zara nodded as the Ranger shrugged and returned to his scaffolding.

Zara left her face uncovered and approached the large military truck and knocked on the driver's door. A dark skinned human woman of strong build, slowly opened the door. But Zara cut her off before she could mount any resistance to her surprise arrival.

"I'm Jedi. Here to help. ...You Corporal Vale?"

The dark skinned woman raised an eyebrow in surprise. She was sitting in the driver's seat tinkering on her computer. Obviously, not expecting company.

"Yeah? Well. I'm Vale. This is Circle C. Who are you?"

"I'm Zara. Volunteer from Peace Station. They said you could use a Jedi finding people. Gave me a radio and everything."

"Well, woop'de'farking doo." Vale scoffed with no sudden burst of enthusiasm. Then she rolled her eyes and pointed back towards the interior. "Shotgun. Other side. Jump in. Let's talk."

Zara was all too eager to hop in anyway. She could feel the cold air pouring out from the truck and was anxious to feel some real temperature again. So she rounded the truck and hoped in. Vale busied herself on her computer as Zara closed the door behind her. She had to jump in too. Trucks sat a good distance off the ground. Must have been a bumpy ride.

Vale scratched her head and kept typing, "So. Who you with again?"

"Peace Station? It's a Jedi organization. We kinda have an alliance or something with the Silver Assembly. Or... An understanding at least."

Vale shrugged. "Whatever." Then just kept typing.

A moment of silence past and Zara fidgeted slightly. "...Um. So? Do you need my help, or? Nah. Not really?"

Vale pursed her lips and looked at the young Jedi slightly. Then stopped typing.

"Look. I've got enough bodies here to do the labour work. But I've got no idea where medical is. Nor, the transport to get hurt people down there in good condition. So. Jedi. ...Why don't you figure me out those two problems before you start magically conjuring up broken bodies for me to fetch out. Ok."

Vale seemed disgruntled with her work. Likewise, Zara just seemed offended. The Jedi girl made a face and shrugged in reply,

"Then. I guess. I'm medical. At least. Until we figure it out anyway."

Vale started typing again, "So you're telling me you're a healer?"

"Sort of. ...I mean. I can do it. Yeah. Most stuff anyway."

Vale shrugged. Then turned to peer out the window. "Fair enough. Not like command is bursting to get back to me anyway. Mm, okay. Then to start. Why don't you talk to Riggs out there. You tell him if there are any hurt people on this street. We can prioritize the dismantle from there. Fair?"

"Okay. Great. I can do that." Zara nodded with delight and rubbed her hands together. She was starting to get annoyed with this conversation anyway.

"Alrighty then. Good luck Jedi. God speed. Or whatever."

Vale then leaned over across Zara and opened the door for her. Letting the sweltering heat of outside air storm into the cabin.

"Um. Yeah. You too. Thanks."

Zara jumped out of the truck as Vale rolled her eyes and closed the door behind her. Once again locking the poor Corperal away from the heat of the desert sun. A nice short vacation from the dust and blood of the world outside. Zara couldn't blame her. Recovery work sucked anyway. Why not spend it inside if you could.

Anyway. Then she turned and looked down the long broken street.

"Riggs!?"

Zara shouted down the street.

A Ranger's helmet spun around on a swivel further down the street. Then the distant fellow shrugged. Seemly offended. Good. Obviously her guy. Perfect.

Meandering now. Zara walked down the destroyed dirt road. Past the military trucks and past the silver robotic workers. Surrounded by destruction and rubble on all sides. Sweating and melting slowly, in the hot afternoon sun.

Ugh.

What a horrible planet. Secretly wishing to herself that the Sith had just blown this whole place up.

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Elise
Quill accepted the meal bar gratefully. "Of course I feel mostly useless," he said. "I'm not old but...I'm old. In theory by this age I should be sitting in solemn councils and leading academies and standing astride the bridge of a dreadnought and all that. But I never leaned that way, so here I am doing a young man's job poorly." He looked around the freighter's hold. "At least we're basically done with the crates."

He stood up again and got a crate. "Forgive me griping. I'm fairly sure it's all just because I understand the difference in scale between my efforts and the local needs."

 

[Weyland Castril]

It felt good to have his feet back on solid ground, but it didn't help that every person he came by felt fractured in some way. Loss and terror were great wounds in an time, especially that of war. Weyland let it bounce off of him, he would not dare feed the animosity and depression that now scorched the city as much as the Sith's turbolaser fire did.

Turning a corner, his ear twitched hearing a jubilant cry of joy to his left. Weyland turned, using the force - he could see. Ahead, three distinctly glowing light orientated Jedi. He was able to distinguish the kiffar, Ryv. The other two; a smaller human female and a tall, toned man embracing them. Weyland felt a warmth in his heart, but a distant one. He'd spent years in Deep Space, in a part of the galaxy neglected by all manner of governing bodies including the Jedi. It was overwhelming to see so many of his own alive and well.

With so many, they could do some much. A tear ran down his cheek, but was soaked up by the band over his eye-sockets. He wished to call out to them - brothers! Sister! - But he could not, he had been away a long time. Perhaps too long, just like Lanik. Weyland quietly trudged across the small distance between them, ushering a soft-voiced greeting.

"Hello."

Tag - Ryv | Aaran Tafo | Auteme

 

[Auteme]

K I N T A N
Tag: Ryv | Aaran Tafo | Weyland Castril ​

---

Yeah. That was some crying. It was a good cry. Auteme hadn't cried enough lately.

Honestly, there were too many emotions here for her to process properly. She felt bad for not helping, but happy he was alive. He felt bad for worrying her, but happy that he kept her out of it. All around them, the evidence of death and destruction, and yet Auteme couldn't help but feel a calming warmth inside. She didn't try to figure it all out. Sometimes things didn't make sense.

"You didn't mess up," she said softly. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand slightly. Unlike with everything else, she didn't feel bad about getting his hand a little wet. "I'm just happy you're alright."

All the emotions running through her clearly clouded her senses a little -- she didn't even notice Aaran until he was literally lifting both of them up in the air. His friendliness was infectious as ever. A smile finally came over her face; she wriggled one of her arms out of the squeeze and wrapped it around Aaran. "Great to see you too, Aaran." She'd probably never say it to Ryv's face, but she thought Aaran could take better care of himself than Ryv could. She hadn't been nearly as worried about him... well, that was the rationale she told herself.

She blinked the tears out of her eyes, looking at her two friends again. They were pretty beat up, but it wasn't anything a warm meal and a bit of healing wouldn't fix -- and as it happened, Auteme could provide both. "We should go back to camp. I can help you guys out there..." She trailed off, realizing that they were probably both out looking for survivors. It was selfish of her to want to bring them back, but they really needed it... maybe she needed it, too. "If that's okay with you."

Still, the meeting wasn't quite over; a new voice approached, and Auteme craned her neck to see over Aaran's shoulder, spotting a blindfolded young man. "Hi!" She let out a sudden giggle, realizing how silly the whole hugging situation was. She poked Aaran in the shoulder, gently signaling to put them down. As much as she loved hugging -- as much as she loved her friends -- there was still stuff to do.

 

[Ryv]

Ryv grunted a bit as he was lifted by the larger padawan. The kiffar still wore his customary smile, seeming unbothered by the group hug itself but instead wounds he likely received during the conflict. He managed to wriggle his trapped arm caught between Auteme and Aaran free before throwing it over his friend. Ryv closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the brief moment of happiness the trio could carve out of the wasteland around them. It was not as if the padawan had forgotten the desolation spanning for miles around them, but he was happy to focus on the warmth his friends provided instead. Once Auteme started squirming around he opened his eyes once more and gently squeezed out of Aaran's grip. Another spike of pain shot through his side, so Ryv put most of his weight on his right leg.

"Back to camp?" the kiffar looked off in the direction of where the fortress once stood. "I suppose it'll allow me to report the positions of the wounded I found, maybe get a med-team over here to pick these folks up," he turned to face Weyland, wincing a bit, though his smile remained. "Ah, I know you! We met on Kesh! Couldn't catch your name considering I had to hit the medical bay then debrief, but it's good to see you're out here helping," he reached out a hand to Weyland, "Name's Ryv, this is Auteme," his free hand motioned to the girl at his side. "And the giant behind me is Aaran."

The kiffar turned his attention back to Auteme briefly, only to look past her and Aaran. Ryv wanted to say something to her, anything really, but everything just seemed lodged in his throat.

"I uh, ran into a particularly strong Sith," Ryv said as he started limping off in the direction Auteme and Weyland came from. "She didn't like me much. Actually threw me through that wall," he pointed to a partially standing shack with a Ryv sized hole on one side. "Managed to hold my own for a bit, but her mastery of the force was astounding. It got to a point she was just lifting me with her thoughts and introducing me to every door, wall, and ceiling in the area."

As the story came out, it made sense why Ryv took painstaking care in each of his movements.

Aaran Tafo | Auteme | Weyland Castril​

 

[Elise]

Jend-Ro Quill She gave a soft snort— a breath of air catching soundlessly through her nose.

“Nonsense,” she told him, letting the crate clunk on top of the pile. A set of younger hands came to take them from them both, the soot covered faces tried and withdrawn as they hefted the supplies further in.

Sadness tugged at her— pure and pressing as she watched them scatter off. She turned back to him, her voice subdued as she concluded, “We all have our experiences. ...I’m just glad you were spared this one.” She took the final crate from him, a lazy wave of her hand depositing in the pile.

Exhaustion tugged at her muscles, made her steps dragging. She steadied herself with a burst of force body, then looked back to him with a tight smile.

“Councils are useless,” she confessed, her voice hushed. ”And libraries— too stuffy.” She shared with him a knowing look, then gestured over her shoulders towards the streets.

“Shall we?”

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Elise

"I've seen councils do some good, in fairness. Some."

Walking with her meant he'd need power to move objects, heal, and so forth. He drew on the Force deeper than he liked and felt strength percolate through his body. In theory a Jedi Master shouldn't feel reluctant to use the Force, and he'd never managed to fully untangle why that was. It didn't come down to an excess of respect, and he'd pondered half a dozen other reasons but no solutions. Drawing on the Force more assertively would have saved him some time, pain, and embarrassing self-pity.

Dirt roads forked and rejoined between refugee shelters both manufactured and improvised. Quill trudged along, avoiding eyes and trying to sense need or inspiration.

 

[Wyatt Morga]

The air was hot, dry, and the only constant he had on the planet as Wyatt worked tirelessly to see the supplies brought to Kintan spread to where they needed to be. He heaved as he hefted a larger box, laden with medical supplies - and began to carry it over to a nearby tent, temporary as it was set up to heal the injured masses that no doubt wandered the streets.​

​

“C’mon Wyatt, it’s like two minutes. You owe me!”, the Toydarian asked, desperation obviously present in his voice.​

​

Wyatt grunted as he readjusted the box, a bead of sweat clinging one of his various brown curls to his head - while he offered the Toydarian little more than a disappointing look;​

​

“I’m sorry Kalle; I’m busy. I can’t run off to help you get your ship - but I promise after.”, he offered gently, hoping to reassure the bird, fly, alien thing he would certainly offer his help.​

​

The Toydarian offered little more than an annoyed wave of his hand - and began to fly away as Wyatt set down the heavy crate near the tent. A man outside, with his own sweat clinging hair to his head gave little more than a nod to the Jedi, to which he mirrored the gesture; yet as he turned around, he recognized a face.​

​

No, he recognized two.​

​

Jend-Ro Quill and Elise; the latter one he on behalf of as the Sith invaded. The one he had convinced to abandon civilians - and the one he could feel that torturous pain on even at a distance. They hadn’t noticed him, but he knew what he had to do; perhaps for his comfort, perhaps for her, but he knew.​

​

With a quick step, before either could speak, he approached and wrapped his arms in a heavy hug around Elise; his eyes closed. It was almost aggressive, so sudden that it was almost an attack; but it was gentle in its hold, and after only a moment Elise could feel Wyatt’s sadness, that longing sensation for redemption pass through to her. With it, gentle words…​

​

“I’m sorry, Elise.”, he offered quietly, barely overpowering the smell of work on the larger Jedi.​

​

It was the only way…, the Force offered to her.​

​

When the message passed, Wyatt slowly released, and smiled at Jend-Ro - offering his arms wide to the older man; not knowing if he’d accept his embrace, consider Elise didn’t get a choice in the matter.​

​

“It’s good to see you both…”, he offered quietly, barely above the ambiance of work around them.​

​

“I hope you’re staying cool?”, he said, sweating nearly through his own shirt.​

​

Jend-Ro Quill │ Elise​

 

[Elise]

Location: Street into the city
Tag: Jend-Ro Quill Wyatt Morga

Elise's breath caught in her chest, a pressing lump appearing in her throat the moment the presence of him wrapped around her. She huffed for a breath, caught off guard and left reeling in the wake of his words.

The simple reminder of what had occurred overwhelmed her. For a moment, there was only agony. She clutched him back, the support taken. The solace received. Her control had been striped so abruptly from her. She hadn't been braced. She hadn't been ready. Realistically that was not how emotional mindfulness worked, but it was how she worked. Without foresight, she struggled.

She struggled with his presence. She struggled with his words. She struggled with the countless deaths that were now on her hands.

He pulled back. She simply stood there, blinking. Trying to breath. Focus on the now. Be mindful of where her distractions could take her.

Something was said and she looked up, glancing blankly at them both. "Hm? ...Oh. We're fine. Mostly." She casted Quill a spare look, concern lingering there.

"We were about to push deeper in," she gestured to the dirt path they followed into the city. "Sense for survivors in the wreckage." A lot of buildings had come down in the climatic ending of the encounter. Why did the sith favor their orbital strikes so much? All the destruction, for what...

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Auteme Ryv Weyland Castril

He continued to smile as he let the other down. Releasing them from his embrace. But not before moving towards Ryv's injured side. A silent gesture that the small Padawan was free to lean on his more physically capable comrade for support if need be. Upon closer inspection of the rather large Padawan, it would be clear enough that something appeared to be off about him, it took him a moment to acknowledge the newcomer. As opposed to a wave of greeting, it was a half-hearted jostle of the arm. His steps seemed slightly unsteady, his gaze unfocused, his body swaying slightly as he stood still.

That was mostly due to the copious amounts of painkillers he was currently on.

But, he pressed onwards to stick with his friends. His eyes flickered downwards at the Ryv's own admission of what he had been up to during the Sith assault. Black thoughts began to gather in the brawnier Padawan's mind. Cursing his own inability to be there for his friend. Not that he consider Ryv weak, quite the opposite in fact. It took incredible strength to remain strong in the face of something so immense.

His mind flashed back to that one village in the outer rim. Butchered by Kyrel Ren. His jaw tightened as Aaran knew exactly what it felt like to be so helpless in the face of such evil. His hand moved to clap Ryv on the shoulder, partially to steady himself, partially to offer support to the clearly shaken Padawan. "Good work." He said, genuine sincerity in his voice as he squeezed Ryv's shoulder. For every moment that Ryv had managed to distract such a powerful Sith. No doubt lives were saved. Every moment they decided to play with a Jedi Padawan, one powerless victim would escape her notice.

"When we get back to Peace, we can spar. My Grandma showed me a great trick for wriggling out of those things. I'll walk you through it." He replied, before turning his attention to Auteme. "Hey, are they setting up food over at the camps? Lotta hungry people around, and I could go for a bite myself."

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Quill pretended not to see Wyatt Morga offering him a hug. That was easy enough; he'd looked away awkwardly when Wyatt hugged Elise. "Survivors. Looking for survivors." His recent stint of heat exhaustion made him even more taciturn than usual. Well, no, he'd been talking quite a bit these past few months as necessary, hadn't he. More than he'd spoken in the better part of a decade. Lots of conversations, meetings, things he'd usually rather avoid were becoming slightly - slightly - less onerous. Even welcome, on occasion. Not the meetings, of course, but talking to friendly people about things that mattered.

"Tracking's the same here as looking for a ship," he said as they went along through the dusty rubble. "Fear stands out, stress, pain. Even if a Sith Lord's hiding his Force signature, you can still track his ship through the emotions he inspires in his crew - it's all true. Same principle here."