Faction The Wake of the Sharu (Forerunners, Scar Worlds welcome, no humans)

[Shath Kharole]

RAFA V
HOME PLANET OF THE SHARU
THE SCAR WORLDS

The genocidal alien brutes known as Bryn'adûl had left much of this sector in ruins. Like nearby Erilnar, Rafa V had faced outright genocide and severe environmental damage. Revitalizing this world would take, oh, decades. Longer than Shath's homeworld of Mimban, certainly, even with the help of both the few Sharu Forerunners and their descendants, the distant Sharukan Empire.

The Tyrax, a Sharukan expeditionary battleship, had touched down on a desolate plain, and small modern boats owned by Forerunners too. In the battleship's shade, in a new prefab settlement, survivors and Forerunners and Sharuka alike were undertaking a memorial celebration of sorts.

No humans were allowed. This planet had died without intervention by the Galaxy's current dominant species, and it could be mourned without them too.

As a mist-weaver, Shath had been asked to say a few words later on. For the moment, a dozen ancient and modern species mingled in the prefab settlement, exchanging uniquenesses and camaraderie and shared mourning. Highly diverse social intoxicants played a role: Shath was drinking minimally, still on his first bulb of Gree 'indigo asymptote' moonshine. He needed to keep a clear head for later.

 

[Vooltroo]

Knowledge was important. There were others who sought knowledge, but many did not know how to read the Jungle. They knew the small parts, the tricks of a home, of one tree, they did not see the Jungle the way the Ithorians did. Mother Jungle had many parts to her, the trees, the underbrush, the mist, the rains… All this working in tandem, sometimes in opposition. But it all came back around.

Heat would create fire, fire would destroy trees, trees would become ash for new life to sprout. Thus was the way the galaxy worked. Perhaps the Forerunners, as they had taken to calling themselves were here to be the fire of the forest, in order to allow new life to sprout. Or perhaps it was a new spin to the forest, new trees, new life to the existing jungle.

Vooltroo wasn't certain. What Vooltroo was certain upon, though, was that the world that they were gathering on, Rafa V, needed seeds. And he was to deliver them. Dispatching himself, as he had no one to take orders from, short of those who were working to protect him. His ship was a small Ithorian vessel, a miniature herdship built for space flight included a moderate garden as the interior, not the cold steel of the rest of the galaxy's ship. A light reminiscent of the Ithorian sun was free floating on repulsor tech to allow the vegetation to grow. Seating was carved Andurite stone. The ship could serve, if needed, as a minor genesis device.

But here? It was not. Here, it was to serve as transport. A very organic design, the Spore was landing on Rafa V and allowed its sole occupant to disembark. The Ithorian wore forest and crimson robes, hand spun and dyed, and carried a satchel, which of course, held seeds, and a backpack, which held the literal fruits for those seeds.

Seeing the world literally a desert, the Ithorian's appearance for those who would recognize it, and his signature in the Force, the Mist, was clearly melancholy. This was what he and the pink being Kyra Perl were working to prevent. He made his way through the throngs, looking for the right place to begin his work.

 

[Shath Kharole]

A number of Ithorians, including sketchy nature priests, worked within or for the Awakeners alongside Shath. After a couple of years, he knew their language decently well and could tell them apart just fine. The new arrival was new to him too. He made a note to have a chat with Vooltroo

First came the speech of sorts. Earlier, a Sharu poet had led many of the gathered people in a song of mourning. Shath, as a non-Sharu but also a mist-weaver, had been asked to give a more general eulogy that might connect those present with the needs of Rafa Five.

Shath took a place at the podium where the poet had sung. Located at the centre of the new settlement beneath the landed battleship, the podium had a commanding position. Hardly anyone here could fail to hear him.

"My name is Shath Kharole," he said, and audio pickups made his voice swell. "I was supposed to speak about loss and resolve and rebirth, but the more I think about it, the less I believe it's my place. What I can do is show you this world and let it speak for itself."

He'd spent long hours staring into his chronoscope, watching the Bryn'adûl murder Rafa V and the planet's long strange history before that. Now he drew on all those sights and wove the Mist.

A giant, misty, colorless image took form, a vision of sorts that extended high enough to graze the belly of the good ship Tyrax. The image was this place, this planet, as it had been a few years and a few centuries ago. Sharu people, Sharu architecture. He made it realistic through imagination and such, filled in the gaps to make a coherent picture. Everyone present, Mist-sensitive or not, would see the huge mobile image of the dead Sharu civilization. It had its share of glory.

He didn't narrate, just made the image grow. Somewhere, a Sharu was weeping.

This right here was why Shath did what he did, why the Forerunners had begun at all. Because their beloved worlds and even galaxies needed to be mourned and, yes, brought back to life.

Vooltroo
Rattick
Telok'k
Hoku Kalani
Thaddeus Wyse
Darth Wyrm

 

[Vooltroo]

Did Vooltroo work for anyone? No. Not really. Vooltroo worked for himself. Vooltroo worked for Mother Jungle. Vooltroo worked for life. The Scar Worlds needed help. He would assist. The Forerunners needed help? He would help.

Would he get involved in their wars? No. He had no need for war. He would assist with genesis of life, with technologies to sustain life, to use the natural world, but not to harm it. He did not want to create harm, but if he continued to move from world to world, spreading seeds, then he may not have a war catch up with him. Even with the Jungle, he could summon more plants, plants to protect, plants to stall those who sought harm.

He walked with a patience of watching trees grow, and a fear that his message would continue. How many seeds has he borne to the planets around the galaxy? Many, but never quite enough. Turning, the large Ithorian heard the voice. Shath. A Forerunner… Sharu perhaps?

It did not matter. When you looked at a dichotomy of many sentients, they matched more closely than trees in the Jungle, in all the Jungles. The images being shown… in the Force? Vooltroo would very much like to learn this… Misty, like a jungle morning… showed a world that had passed on.

His hand nervously went to his seed pouch. There was work to do.

Shath Kharole

 

[Rattick]

Rattick watched the Threllan Shath Kharole weave the sight of nations past into a fog. It was reminder of the glory of days past, of the failures of the modern age. One of the Gree's tentacles began to quiver slightly, anger flowing through Rattick. The Forerunner project knew there would be a dark age, but for so long? That no other species had stepped up for more than religious wars inspired all sorts of rage in the Gree.

Deciding that there was a limit to the healthiness of anger Rattick moved towards the Ithorians of the camp. They were mostly a peaceful lot, and natural terraformers. Rattick thought they needed to be a bit more aggressive in their methods, but their presence wouldn't be nearly as calming if they were. Like Shath Rattick had grown to appreciate them, and even distinguish different members of the species. This Vooltroo 's appearance was noted. Rattick observed a feeling akin like restlessness in the creature.

"<It's a shame the damage the green perpendicular have committed.>" Rattick said in his own tongue to the Ithorian.

 

[Telok'k]

While Shath Kharole transformed the mists into Rafa V's living memory, a heartbreaking dirge emanated from one of the Gree's floating hyperpods. Its tone was reminiscent of a kitonak pipe yet the melody was truly otherworldly. Telok'k played his ancient folk hymn until Shath's memorial was complete, then descended from his conveyance in a mass of writhing tentacles.

"<It's a shame the damage the green perpendicular have committed.>" Rattick said in his own tongue to the Ithorian.

"Black bisectors such as the mistweavers will evolve this world-home-sanctuary to orange sphere."

Despite his optimism Telok'k shared the same disgust as his kin at how the Sharu had withered while prosperous human Core Worlds thrived. His own people were similarly reduced, vassals to a human dominated Imperial state and ignorant of their glorious legacy. It seemed the cruelest kind of cosmic jest that instead of awakening to a golden age each mighty empire was eventually overthrown by unconquered time.

"Acknowledgment and profound tribute. Your aptitude is gray sphere," he complimented Shath when the service was complete, "We would be the object of your attention. Gree crafted solutions will make clean life-waters flow. Allow us to help form the red parallel."

 

[Vooltroo]

The trees called. They were in their seeds. They needed the time and care to develop into that which they really were. Plants could heal worlds. Plants cleaned the skies, provided homes, and habitats. The world here needed trees, needed plants. Rafa was … deserted. It did not make Vooltroo feel at home. He had been living in this galaxy, among these worlds for a long time. The Ithorian had made it his mission, both in a literal sense and in something given from the Jungle, a seed adrift on the cold solar winds, to travel and take root.

He had not taken root in any one place, but like many, he found a cause, and he stuck to it.

Looking to the other beings, ancient creatures, but no less worthy of assistance, or perhaps even more worthy of assistance, the Solarpunk gave two slow blinks to the Gree who approached, one he had learned was named Rattick . The other was something of a different name, named for the trees? The Jungle was green, the Jungle was good. Green from a Gree… That was not close to red. Red was… good? Blue was bad? For most sentients blue and green were water and plants.

Perpendicular, that was surely bad. His mind took only the time for the two blinks to come up to something akin to enemies for this phrase. But was it? Green was good. Green was chlorophyll.

Vooltroo palmed a handful of seeds and presented them to the pair of Gree… Trying to come up with a phrase they may understand. "Green… initial point will become orange tangent?" Vooltroo was either saying that the seeds were new beginnings that were going to be prosperous, or that one of the Gree's mother's was of ill repute. His own voice was sounding cautious as he spoke, but the droid would translate it matter of factly.

They understood the Ithorian Herd was here to help was all Vooltroo could hope.

Telok'k Shath Kharole

 

[Hoku Kalani]

Part of the challenge of being a Selkath was that some beings looked back on the Kolto days, and the neutrality between the Jedi and the Sith of ancient times with a bit of unease. On top of that, others saw Selkath as somewhat of a slave race for Rakata. But even when the Republic was young, that was old news. But what beings of the galaxy didn't realize, was that Selkath and Ithorians were almost cut from the same cloth.

Ithorians, in their massive herd ships, cared for what they called Mother Jungle.

Selkath were stewards of their own planet, Manaan's, oceans and assisting in the healing of others.

Hoku was not too different from the run of the mill Selkath. Like the society demanded, protected life and the oceans, but he was still studying the technology and history or his people's past. And that lead him to both the Scar Worlds and the Forerunners.

Both had a focus of what he wanted to be able to do, one had the technology.

And he was embarrassed to say, that he hoped he could use the latter to help both groups. It was only a major issue right now, because the next meeting of the Forerunners was on the world Rafa V. A desert. He was not going to survive well there. While his ship, a very Selkath vessel, sleek lines and designs reminiscent of a squid in flight, had landed, and a spider walker had departed. The hologram of the Selkath scientist appeared.

He did not care for deserts. Temperate was about as dry as he would go.

The walker moved to join the gathered.