Jack Sandrow
Writer, Character, Invasive Species

Location: Tython
Personal Equipment: Currently wearing the Olisthiros combat suit folded away under his clothing | Pistol
It had been a few weeks since Grandmaster Valery Noble had invited him to Tython to help heal the planet and provide aid. He had hardly taken a few hours of rest; it had taken every ounce of his strength to keep pace with resupplying and protecting the refugee camps until other forms of aid could take over. He had shifted in the interim to rejuvenation, using various Sylva Arma biotech vehicles to actively and vigorously restore the natural biosphere of Tython from its war-ravaged state.
It was good hard work, and while Jack was absolutely worn out from it, he was more than pleased with the results; being able to directly see how his work was helping and fixing things was one of the major reasons he had kept at it. It wasn't pretty work, it wasn't necessarily fun work, but it was necessary.
Something had been nagging at the back of his mind throughout, however. There was a slow pull from more or less the other side of the planet, where some skirmishes had still been happening while he had landed and helped clean up around the site of the now-refurbished Jedi Temple. He had put it off as something related to many important people in a very small space. But then the battles had quieted, and the people had moved on. Still, he felt that pull. The Jedi had moved into the Temple (and were currently renovating several floors simultaneously), and still Jack felt the pull from the other side of the planet.
Something was off. Something was very off, and he felt paradoxically both nauseous and intrigued by it. And so... he called on
