Raine Bralor
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Post by Raine Bralor on May 9, 2016 21:03:13 GMT -8
*Raine listened to what Raicheal said. Asking for help in their battles. She thought for a moment before speaking.*
"In their battles. Are the Mando'ade going to war?"
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 11, 2016 18:21:58 GMT -8
With an expressive shrug of her shoulder to express her uncertainty where the answer to Raine's question lays, Raicheal says, "Possibly. Frowning as she reconsiders her answer, Raicheal amends her statement, Well, almost certainly actually. The only question is which side of the coming war the Mando'ade will find themselves on, if they do not find themselves on both. We also sent envoys to the enemies of the Imperials, to see what they might offer in return for the aid of the Mando'ade."
Silent for a moment, her head tilted at an inquisitive angle as she seems to study Raine's face as though trying to gauge her thoughts from the young woman's expression, Raicheal finally asks, "If you had a choice, which side would you want to be fighting on, Raine? That of the Imperials, or that of their enemies?"
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Raine Bralor
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Post by Raine Bralor on May 24, 2016 17:32:09 GMT -8
*Raine took every word in with as much detail as possible. She wrinkled her noise at Raicheals question."
"I have friends with people who are enemies of the Imperials. I know some Jedi...but that's a complicated one." *She gave a sheepish grin for a second.* "I...didn't exactly make friends with the Imperials today, did I?"
*Pausing for a moment, thinking hard on the answer, she turned back to Raicheal.* "I say side with their enemies. Their enemies aren't as well organized, because their only small alliances now right?. When we win, and if we have to turn on them, they'll be easier to pick apart one at a time. Were the Imperials are a well organized large group that would be more difficult to defeat alone."
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 26, 2016 18:50:43 GMT -8
Raicheal nods after Raine has finished her answer, nothing condescending in her tone as she says, "Very pragmatic. Some might find it strange that one of Raine's age answered in an analytical rather than emotional manner, but childhood for the Mando'ade is not like that of other cultures, and so it does not seem odd at all to Raicheal that the girl has answered as she has. I think, she goes on in a musing tone, revealing that she herself is not ruled strictly by pragmatism, that Kad Ha'rangir would be pleased with your answer; though not for the same reasons. The First Order, though their warring would certainly please the destroyer god, ultimately seeks to impose uniformity and their version of peace, which would bring stagnation. I think they unknowingly serve Arasuum, the sloth-god. Laughing with a shake of her head, Raicheal shrugs a shoulder and says, It is not likely to be up to us to decide anyway. The clan leaders will hear the bids from both sides, and side with those that can best benefit the Mando'ade. Or, she adds, perhaps they will accept both bids, which could mean there is to be a choice of which side to fight for after all. Only time will tell."
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Trent Weston
The Organization
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Post by Trent Weston on May 28, 2016 18:39:25 GMT -8
Trent -- what are your orders? Where are we? |
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Jemima Sacharo
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“I can't lose any more of you. I just can't!”
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Post by Jemima Sacharo on May 29, 2016 1:53:05 GMT -8
“Doc? Doctor...she's...she's gone. I'm sorry. I can't hear her heartbeat.” “No she's not!” said Jemima, “SHE'S NOT DEAD! SO SHUT UP!” She was only lashing out more than denying the truth of the words from the young girl. Clearly she was more intuitive than Jemima could ever be. But right then, she couldn't think of anything, couldn't do anything...but hope. She had hope, she had faith, that perhaps, just perhaps, even if she was indeed dead, perhaps a jolt, or a forced pulse could jumpstart her heart. It only just happened, there was a chance, slim, but a chance all the same, that she could still be saved, “Brain activity continues for seven minutes after the heart stops beating,” said Jemima, stubbornly readying the defibrillator, “I can still save her. I can still save...I won't abandon her. Not again. I'm not running this time.” I take a quick look at the Nagai, and I see past her skin, past the muscle, and I see...no movement. Her body is completely still. When I touch her, I can feel her form, and there's still some temperature left, but she's cooling, and more than that, like an inner feeling, I just know, there's no life left in this body at all. Just to make sure, because I realize something very quickly. The Nagai is gone, but there are a lot of other people here who are not, but without help, they might go too. I guess I have to prioritize. I'm so sorry doctor, I hope you forgive me, but I have to shake you out of this. “She's gone, doc. There's nothing more you can do for her, but there's a lot of dying folk around...” “How do you know that?!? Huh? Tell me! How do you know?!? A wild guess? We don't operate on guesses! We operate on fact, and fact says there's still a chance!” But when she turned back to Anzhelina, the pink, frothy sputum dribbling out one side of her lips told her the truth of Krystal's words. She knew the exact cause of it: Pulmonary edema. Given the extent of her injuries coupled with unknown variables, the chances of saving her friend just went below zero in percent. Despite the truth being blasted in her face, Jemima would later be amazed at the fact that she could still refuse to accept this fact, even as the defibrillators fell out of her grip, and her shoulders twitched violently as the sobs wracked her body, and she couldn't control herself any longer. “I'm sorry...I'm sorry...!” she seemed to be saying this to both Krystal and Anzhelina. She reached up and desperately grasped the young girl's hand that was on her shoulder, trying to draw strength from her. It was indeed an unusual thing that the youngest of all the people here was the one to offer strength and support.Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.
Wiping her tears on her sleeve, the young woman stumbled to her feet, picking up her gear, and she saw the boy, Verrgil, following the instructions given by Silas, and he was pressing down very hard on a woman's wound. It was a good call. Keeping pressure on the wound, but it was only a temporary solution. Looking back and forth between Neassa and the wounded slave, she made a reluctant decision, but the simple fact was she couldn't be in two places at once, and she needed to tend to the more serious problems first. She heard Erly calling for the captain, who really was the main reason Jemima had been brought on board. well, him, and Anzhelina, who had history with the man. Swallowing hard, she croaked out, in a suddenly shaky voice, “Uhm...K-Krystal? Be a help, yeah?” she pointed towards Neassa, “It looks like she's already given herself something, but she's going unconscious. Just try and see if she has any critical injuries that you can see, and give a yell if you think it's bad. Th-thanks.” Silas had left for the cockpit, and Jemima headed for the woman, trusting that Krystal knew what was truly critical, and what was benign. She felt like the girl knew what she was doing, and although she knew next to nothing about her beyond her name and the fact that she can fly and take a direct blaster bolt to the sternum without needing immediate medical attention, she just had a feeling the girl would be able to tend to the armoured woman without too much trouble.“Hey,” said Jemima very softly, her voice still cracking, and her eyes red-rimmed, “You're doing great. Really, thank you. I'll take it from here, yeah?” She touched his hand gently, and smiled as best as she could, then took out her bioscanner and began preparing a rush job. Or at least, as fast as she could go, because there were just so many more to tend to. She felt the shift from gravity to artificial gravity, and knew that the ship was in space, and before too long, in hyperspace, when she felt a sort of jolt. Hopefully Trent had them on course for Honoghr or some place with good medical facilities. |
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Preacher
Member
One step closer.
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Post by Preacher on May 30, 2016 17:24:33 GMT -8
"...I imagine we'll be headed somewhere within Republic space to drop off our passengers..."
Silas merely blinked at the pilot's words. There's a Republic? Like some kind of kingdom or fiefdom? The man known as Preacher took the meds, turning them over in his hands for a moment. He had no clue what 'H4b' was, but he'd see to it that the Doctor got them. The batch patches, on the other hand, would be immediately useful, and he stuffed the items into pockets, nodding in acknowledgement of Trent's words. Right. He clapped the pilot on the shoulder. Thanks for the lift back there. We were in poor shape, every one of us, and you pullin' us out of there was about the only hope we had. You done good. I'm on my way back there, help out long as I can. Keep us safe, Trent, till I can find Draykon and see about a course of action. Removing his hand from the pilot's shoulder, but realizing he needed the support, the spacer grabbed the doorframe on his way out and moved as quickly as he could back to the improvised emerg ward. Spying the Doctor on his re-entry to the hold, he moved over to her side, holding out the bottle of pills and a good quantity of the batch patches. Got these. H4b. You ok, doc? He knelt a few feet away from her, and set about bandaging abrasions on a woman's face and hands.
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Raine Bralor
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Post by Raine Bralor on Jun 4, 2016 21:35:40 GMT -8
Raicheal nods after Raine has finished her answer, nothing condescending in her tone as she says, "Very pragmatic. Some might find it strange that one of Raine's age answered in an analytical rather than emotional manner, but childhood for the Mando'ade is not like that of other cultures, and so it does not seem odd at all to Raicheal that the girl has answered as she has. I think, she goes on in a musing tone, revealing that she herself is not ruled strictly by pragmatism, that Kad Ha'rangir would be pleased with your answer; though not for the same reasons. The First Order, though their warring would certainly please the destroyer god, ultimately seeks to impose uniformity and their version of peace, which would bring stagnation. I think they unknowingly serve Arasuum, the sloth-god. Laughing with a shake of her head, Raicheal shrugs a shoulder and says, It is not likely to be up to us to decide anyway. The clan leaders will hear the bids from both sides, and side with those that can best benefit the Mando'ade. Or, she adds, perhaps they will accept both bids, which could mean there is to be a choice of which side to fight for after all. Only time will tell." |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jun 8, 2016 17:09:17 GMT -8
Drumming her fingers on the top of her buy'ce, a reflective frown on her lips, Raicheal is silent a moment before, having considered the question Raine had posed for a time, she answers, "The First Order seems the more likely of the two to make the higher bid, she begins, It seems unlikely that their opposition will be organized enough at this time to make a competitive offer given the First Order's vast well of resources to draw from. Lifting a hand in a gesture indicating an alternative, or concurrent as the case may be, point of view, Raicheal adds, Though, given the fact that we have no Mand'alor at this time, I also imagine that we will ultimately be able to choose who we wish to fight for, or alongside, individually. The majority of the clans, Raicheal concludes, however, I believe will throw in with the First Order since they are more likely to offer rewards that will help the Mando'ade as a whole prosper."
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Preacher
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One step closer.
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Post by Preacher on Jun 14, 2016 18:09:39 GMT -8
aboard the Midnight Shadow...
...after a few minutes, his long-coat has been discarded in favor of rolled-up shirtsleeves, and after little more time has passed, his hands and shirt are bloody, and stained with sweat from exertion. Mostly, there is anguish. Lost loved ones. Borderline malnutrition. Lacerations. The setting of a leg, or arm. In a few extreme cases, rape and prolonged, repeated severe beatings. Those cases he did his best until Jem could make her way over. In fact there were so many wounded and in need of some form of attention, the crew had resorted to a fairly grim system: bits of red cloth as arm-bands for the priority cases. At one point, he wondered inwardly if the added weight of the throng made things difficult for Trent. At one point, he passed by the galley to find a group coming to blows over food, and had to step in to prevent any hoarding or fighting. It should have been as simple as saying all were welcome to eat, but it just isn't that easy. After months, or years of abuse, your station as something less is ingrained.
It took Silas nearly an hour to reach her. Still cradling her carbine as if her next breath depended on it. He knelt beside her mostly prone form, semi-propped up against the wall immediately inside the entry/egress ramp. Assessing her vitals was impossible, though he could see blood on her armour. Though he had the distinct impression she would not permit it, were she able, he carefully, gingerly began removing some of her armour, and set aside her rifle. A cursory and pain-index-response examination of her extremities showed that she was not injured in arm or leg, so the thigh plating and forearm vambraces remained. However, to properly assess vitals, the helmet and neck protection had to go. It was a simple enough affair, and the Preacher kept all of the pieces he removed within easy reach. Were she to come to, no doubt they would be asked for. His hat had been set aside ages ago, and he tucked errant strands of his hair behind his ears as he worked, wiping a hand criss-crossed with dried blood across his brow. He found three wounds. All blaster damage. Her vitals were weak, and her slow pulse worried the outlander. He saw evidence of her own ministrations -- pain meds, a bacta patch. Both field dressings done in the heat of the moment by a veteran soldier. He used several sterile wipes to clean his hands, and then redressed her wounds, taking care to bind them well. He was no field medic, but knew anatomy well, and knew the vital places where one was assured a kill. In odd moments like this, Silas found it translated to 'doctoring' pretty well.
Oddly, he tried not to look her in the eye (though she was currently unconscious.) He knew it would be a distraction, and he felt a well of emotion that he held at bay as he recalled Nahimana's sage words.
And then, he felt her tense under his hands, and readied himself for what was to come. When her eyes opened, his hands were several inches away from her torso, held palm out, to show that he meant no harm. Easy, Neassa. It's ok. We're off-world. Realizing that though she was 75% covered, the lack of her armour would seem terribly immodest, and the Preacher pulled a blanket up to her midriff. He still had a tough time meeting her gaze. I apologize for acting without your consent. You were injured.
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Erly Ryzer
Member
Chilli Cheese Fries, please...
Posts: 181
Affiliation: CorSec (Formerly)
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Post by Erly Ryzer on Jun 15, 2016 3:00:56 GMT -8
Within Hyperspace, Departing Kessel
Common Room, Wayfarer-class transport, the Midnight Shadow
Erly searched around for Adrien, but was surprised to find it difficult to catch sight of him. Plus she was distracted by all the various people in need. She took a cue from Silas, and started tending following in his wake, tending or adding on to whatever was applied. She tried to be sparing with her supplies, but remembered that Jemima had loaded up a full medical supply in anticipation of caring for not only Adrien, but the entire crew. It was a small medical facility. So, when her pack's equipment began to shorten, she just made a quick stop in the medical bay, and replenished her supplies, and was back amongst the throng. She exchanged glances with the members of the crew who were still standing or in relatively better conditions. She still had to fight her empathic senses towards the people who were rescued. Her profiling skills and talent at reading body language told her many stories, none of which were pleasant ones.
She just finished bandaging the arm of a man. One of the people involved in a fight over the food in the galley. She watched in silence as Silas had defused that situation quickly, and then she moved in to help apply some first aid to those added on injuries. Now she slowly made her way over to the Outlander, letting her BioScanner tell her of the extent of Neassa's injuries, whilst giving Silas a once-over with a visual inspection. The man had been on his feet the whole time since this began until now. She partially opened her mouth to speak, but halted as Silas assured a stirring Neassa that she was among friends. She offered the woman a supportive smile, which she extended to the man as well, and then knelt down beside him, planting her kit between them, so she could check on the armored lady. “Doesn't look like there's much for me to do here.” She looked over to Silas, “Great work. You seem familiar with battlefield injuries and tending to them.”
It was hardly a surprising fact for her in all honesty, based on all she had observed of him so far. But this was just a way of making light conversation and gauging the man further. To know him better and what other abilities or talents he might possess.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Jun 15, 2016 18:54:49 GMT -8
Within Hyperspace, Departing Kessel
Common Room, Wayfarer-class transport, the Midnight Shadow
Wincing as she tenses, drawing herself back instinctively when she realizes that she has lost consciousness long and deeply enough for someone to come close enough to her to have removed her buy'ce, Neassa's brown eyes flick from Silas to where he placed her carbine and armor before her mind, sluggish from pain and the morphine, registers that there is no immediate threat. His voice calms her enough to prevent her from reaching for her weapon, and Neassa's eyes return to him after briefly lingering on Erly's face long enough for her to return the woman's smile with an attempted one of her own that her pain makes shaky and brief.
With a nod that becomes a shake of her head as, her mouth dry and her thoughts still so muddled from the pain she feels welling up now that she is awake and the morphine's effect begins to fade that speaking seems to require more effort than simply gesturing, Neassa tries to communicate both that she understands what he has said and that his apologies are not necessary. Her face wan and pale, a few sweaty strands of her long hair clinging to her long, oval face with its wide mouth, Neassa croaks, "S'ok. Resting the back of her head against the wall behind her, the tension bleeding from her as awareness of the fact she is in no danger finally settles in, Neassa looks around to take in what is happening around her, the scene not entirely unfamiliar to her given she has witnessed the aftermaths of many a battle, before, taking a breath to prepare for the answer, she asks a question she has asked after other battles, The others? Before an answer is given, Neassa turns her gaze towards Erly to say, You should check Silas over, he's wounded. Her eyes return to Silas' face as, able to guess from his appearance that he has probably ignored his own wounds while looking after those of others, she tries to sound stern while bidding him to, Let her look after you now, you won't be able to help anyone if you wear yourself out or worse."
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Adrien Draykon
Retired High Councilor 
The Smuggler King
Posts: 720
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Post by Adrien Draykon on Jun 20, 2016 20:26:35 GMT -8
Common Room, Wayfarer-class transport, the Midnight Shadow“Adrien?” Freed slaves spill out of the common area into the hallway leading to the main hold, lost somewhere in the crowd is the still unconscious Captain of the Midnight Shadow. One would think that a stretcher would be easy to find but then again the ship had never been so full of people who were scared, confused, and in need of medical attention, so the stretcher holding Adrien was pushed further and further out of the common area with the overflow. The captain's wounds, though rather numerous and serious looking, were likely less life threatening than some of the others in the ship due to his accelerated healing factor, in fact there was already evidence of remodeling on his skin. A white haze floods Adrien's sight as he begins to stir. A light fixture comes into focus as he blinks a couple of times and looks from side to side to see that he was back home. Once he realized exactly where he was on the ship he reached over and pulled himself to the far wall then pulled himself to an upright position to look around once again, seeing for the first time just a handful of those that they had freed from their captors. Once he had taken it all in that they had succeeded in their mission he closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Several moments passed as he tuned out the noise around him bringing it down to a dull roar before he sat up and kicked his feet over the side of the gurney letting them hang as he looked down at the blaster wounds on his chest and stomach. He moved his hand to feel the closing hole and then examined the burnt and blackened blood that now covered his fingers. "Huh." He huffed with curiosity, as he cocked his head and wondered to himself, it doesn't hurt, why doesn't it hurt? A thought that he has had since he woke after the fight on Juvex, but that was an answer to a question that he could ask at a later time. He looked up at the freed slaves and finally let the noise back in as he slid off the gurney and onto his feet. With just a glance around the small hallway he could tell that there were many, many injuries to be tended to, but there were only a few that truly concerned him. His glance lingered on the injured slaves before he turned and made the short walk to the medbay. He reached the small room with ease, since he was mostly through the crowd to begin with, and opened the door expecting to see his two fallen crew members already lying in beds to receive medical treatment. What he found was a vacant room. He turned on his heel and headed back into the large group of slaves pushing his way through. When he finally made it into the common area he saw Jemima first patching up what looked like some very serious injuries, she was too busy to notice that he was there. She was very attentive to her patients, a very admirable quality. He next saw Silas and Erly tending to who he gathered was Neassa, strange he had never seen her face until now, it was the first time he had seen a Mandalorian woman's face he was expecting someone more mannish. He looked around some more before spotting the familiar combat boots and canvas pants resting on the floor through a brief gap in the slaves. He pushed his way through toward where he had seen her. "No-"He quietly choked out as he reached her she was slouched over, covered in blood and her skin had a bluish hue. Adrien's heart stopped, time seemed to screech to a halt, and the room once again fell silent to his ears. Seconds seemed like an eternity as he stared at her body, time only resuming once he took his first step forward and fell to her side to take her cold body into his arms and hold her as tightly as he could. A flood of emotion began to boil within him and it hurt. Like a volcano about to erupt the pressure within him began to build, his skin began to turn red and his agony could not be hidden as he hugged her tightly and let out a long, silent scream. Within him the the pressure began to build more and more, and a pain like no other began to rip his heart to shreds. His head felt as though it were about to explode off his shoulders until- A thunderous roar of anguish and heartbreak silenced the room followed by a deep breath and another less intense roar filled the silence. Tears streamed down the captain's face as he rocked her body gently and held her to his chest. He fell back from his knees to a sitting in the opposite corner pulling her on his lap in the process, where he wept as he kissed her head while stroking her hair with the hand that cradled her head. "Please," he pleaded with her, "please, don't leave me." He kissed her forehead once again. "Connie please," he laid his cheek on her forehead his tears making streaks in the dirt on her skin, "you can't go." He continued to rock her and kiss her forehead as he mumbled his pleas into her ear. |
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Krystal "Meony" Tancredi
Member
Figuring things out...
Posts: 239
Affiliation: Anything that abhors violence
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Post by Krystal "Meony" Tancredi on Jun 22, 2016 21:19:15 GMT -8
You ever have those times where you kind of wish you are anywhere but where you are, yet at the same time, you can't see yourself being anywhere else but where you are? I'm having one of those moments right now. I already saw the shouting and tongue-lashing coming from Jemima, and I know she needs to let this out. Everyone needs an outlet of some sort, y'know? I don't enjoy it, but I take it any way, and when she comes to the acceptance part, I just rest my hand on her shoulder, and my other on the Nagai's head. Something she says makes me wonder, so I just...uhm...I dunno, really. I sort of draw on something. Brain activity continues for a few more minutes, and in those few moments, I do something I've never done before, and more than that, I have absolutely no idea how I know how to do...whatever it is I just did. I just have something in my head now. Like...okay, it's not like having a soul of someone else, and it's not exactly memories. But you know how you download files into a datapad or something? I think I just did that. Yeah, best way to explain it.
Don't ask me why I did that, either. Sometimes even I don't know why I do certain things.
But I snap back to, when Jemima asks me to help with Neassa. I start to go over, when I notice Silas already heading over, and a little later, Erly too. Well, I guess there no need for so many people to tend to just one person. I leave to attend to few people with small cuts and so on. It's not too much on me, and I feel better having helped in some little way, but then...that's when I hear this noise. Oh God...I hope you never have to hear what I hear. I mean Jemima's like the kind to sort of internalize it? Even when she lets it out, it's controlled. But Captain Draykon? The whole galaxy, I swear, for that instant, can feel his pain. Because I feel it like it went through my heart. Like there is literal pain in my chest, and I lose my equilibrium for a second when I feel waves of...emotion? I don't know, but I don't enjoy it. I wish I could take away this pain he feels, but I find myself at a loss as to what to do, and so, I just stand there, along with others, looking at him. For a moment, I guess, we are all lost in his anguish.
And it is only day two for this crew together.
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Preacher
Member
One step closer.
Posts: 318
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Preacher on Jun 23, 2016 15:08:14 GMT -8
Within Hyperspace, Departing Kessel
Common Room, Wayfarer-class transport, the Midnight Shadow
Her face wan and pale, a few sweaty strands of her long hair clinging to her long, oval face with its wide mouth, Neassa croaks, "S'ok. Resting the back of her head against the wall behind her, the tension bleeding from her as awareness of the fact she is in no danger finally settles in, Neassa looks around to take in what is happening around her, the scene not entirely unfamiliar to her given she has witnessed the aftermaths of many a battle, before, taking a breath to prepare for the answer, she asks a question she has asked after other battles, The others? Before an answer is given, Neassa turns her gaze towards Erly to say, You should check Silas over, he's wounded. Her eyes return to Silas' face as, able to guess from his appearance that he has probably ignored his own wounds while looking after those of others, she tries to sound stern while bidding him to, Let her look after you now, you won't be able to help anyone if you wear yourself out or worse."
Relaxing into the knowledge that he can rest, for the moment, Silas performs a mental checklist when Neassa asks about the crew. The pilot - Trent, on the flight deck. Good piece of flying. The non-combatants -- he nods in the direction of the Doc, Krystal and Erly -- all ok. You, me and the Captain -- a little worse for wear. Close call with Draykon. He had sprung a half-dozen leaks before I got him out... but he wields a power not unlike my own, and his rate of healing is unparalleled. I've never seen anything like it. He should have been dead. Silas grows quiet for a moment. Constanza... he shakes his head. Seems Nahimana was right about today. But then, she didn't make it, either. Silas regarded her for a moment, seeing her attempt, seeing right through it, but he smiled, and answered as truthfully as he ought, shrugging in deflection. I don't know much about the patching up of others, but I've been taught a lot about how to dismantle folks. Oftentimes, the knowledge works both ways. pause But for one of us, I wanted to make sure it was done right. ...and then Adrien entered the hold, and that visceral scene of loss and anguish made its mark for all time on every man, woman and child who witnessed it. Silas had known the Nagai only a short time, the Captain even more briefly, but from his hours-long connection with Adrien, he had felt the depth of his connection to her, had gleaned much of their shared history. And there he sat, in the midst of being bandaged and medicated, he watched as Adrien wept for his oldest crew-mate and friend. Watched him break a little. He thought of moving to comfort the man, or say something to ease his way, but the gesture was futile. Even if he were able to conjure the right words, comfort had never been something he was particularly adept with.
And so he sat, head back against the wall, and took it all in, as Adrien cradled the dead Nagai's head delicately in his lap and lost himself in grief.
All around the man was silence, as every eye was focussed on this uncharacteristic display of tenderness. No less than thirty faces were upturned, staring at Adrien Draykon, architect of their salvation, as they were taught in that moment the true meaning of loss, and what it really meant to be Captain.
Silently, a dozen paces from their grieving Captain, Silas upturned a bloody hand and laid it gently, palm up, on Neassa's thigh. He didn't know if she would notice. It was maybe enough that he tried. |
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Erly Ryzer
Member
Chilli Cheese Fries, please...
Posts: 181
Affiliation: CorSec (Formerly)
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Post by Erly Ryzer on Jun 23, 2016 23:37:38 GMT -8
Within Hyperspace, Departing Kessel
Common Room, Wayfarer-class transport, the Midnight Shadow
Erly blinked, listening to Silas explain himself. Her blinking was the only indication of great interest to whatever he had to say. She tilted her head briefly to one side and said, “Well, you learn about biology, you learn the good and the bad, I guess.”
She carefully applied cleaning agents to the wounds that she could see. Grisly though they were, she did not flinch or grimace, a hint to how used she was to the sight of these things, despite her youthful and naive demeanour. She was intrigued by some of his wounds and how far along they were in recovery. Perhaps Krystal's doing or Silas' own. She knew there was something unusual about them both, probably had something akin to Jedi training and the Force. Brushing her hair back, she used a cloth to clean the wounds, and patched up whatever needed immediate attention. All in all, her work was done in relatively short order.
It was just as well she had finished, because she flinched when she heard Adrien, and turned to look. She whispered a soft, “Oh no...” and stood up, looking at him worriedly. Slowly, she made her way over to him, but stopped at two more paces from him, her hand reaching out towards his back.
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Isabelle Eoura
The Organization
"Be one with the shadows."
Posts: 192
Affiliation: The Draykon Crew...for now
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Post by Isabelle Eoura on Jun 25, 2016 18:41:01 GMT -8
The loud scream startled Isabelle back into alertness causing her to open her eyes swiftly. Her gaze almost immediately landed on a man cradling a body and she furrowed her brow ever so slightly.
Why is he so upset? It was a battle down there, people were going die on both sides, that's war. She knew what she was getting into when they decided to attack those bastards, they all did. They only lost one person and saved so many slaves and killed so many slavers, I would consider that a victory.
She looked around and saw the other faces around the room glued on the man and his friend. She saw all the sympathetic faces looking in his direction and she saw the sadness around the room.
They all look so sad. Why? The crew won and the slaves are free. They should be celebrating.
Isabelle had never felt that way about anyone so she simply didn't understand what the man was going through. Sure she had cared about people in her own way, but nothing so deep as whatever this was. She looked down and away from the scene toward her blaster wound. Her hand was covered in blood, not unlike the rest of her, some hers and some not. The blood on her face and in her hair had dried almost completely and started to itch, her wound was still bleeding and she was becoming more and more tired, and a pool of blood had begun to collect behind her. She looked around above her and grabbed a bar to pull herself up, it was a struggle but she made it to her feet and began to hobble through the crowd. Her time to relax was over, she needed to get to wherever the medbay was and patch herself up before she bled out.
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Jemima Sacharo
Member
“I can't lose any more of you. I just can't!”
Posts: 104
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Post by Jemima Sacharo on Jun 26, 2016 21:17:09 GMT -8
Jemima cringed when she heard the cry of Adrien, because it made everything she'd been trying to suppress boil right up to the surface and an involuntary tear slipped down her cheek even as she slowly turned to gaze upon her dead friend and her captain. Their captain now. The man she was brought on board to look after, who made a miraculous recovery, and then endured a horrific battle, only to suffer more grief. Clenching her eyes, she turned forcefully away, and tried to concentrate on what she was supposed to do, even as everyone else watched Adrien bare his soul for all to see.
Silas, Erly and Krystal were a big help, tending to all the serious wounds in the midst, but Jemima's eye caught movement, heading towards the medbay. She saw the pool of blood the woman left behind, and she quickly darted after her, “Hey...” said Jemima very softly, and she offered to help support the woman's weight on herself, and helped her to the nearest bed.
“My name is Jemima Sacharo, or just Gem,” said the young woman, still in a soft voice, wavering as she continued to try and keep her emotions in check, “I'm sort of the ship's doctor. Let's see about stopping that bleeding, yeah?”
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Post by Diamonte Tuhlute on Jun 28, 2016 10:44:58 GMT -8
‘ running…. still running….’ I could see the endless corridor of the compound each step extended the nearest exit further beyond my reach… Each pulse brought the guards that were hunting me down one step closer to intercept. But I could feel a comforting weight, right shoulder giving me the courage to continue running. A small tiger golf. but with a blast of one of the guards rifles the doll was forcibly removed from my shoulder and I fell forward hitting the floor but not feeling the impact" Gah!…. wait… wait where’s puck?” I woke up in a comfortable bed. Cold beads of sweat dripped down my face as I walk in fear. I struggle to get the edge of the bed with every move I made reverberating and causing a new motion to bring me back toward the center of the king-sized water. Looking around the room I could see screens of data readouts… was I still in the facility? I was about to yell when the doors wooshed open“ Ah… young one, I am glad to see you are among the living.” “ Where’s puck?” “ What now?” “ Puck… my tiger companion.” “ Kid, the pack of things by the bed is all that you came with. I have checked everything in there for bugs or hax… you brought no stuffed tiger onboard” The Pack! I lunged toward the edge of the bed… fighting my hardest not to get knocked back. there was the blue glass bottle, the data chips, and the Crystal… but no trace of the stuffed“ We have to go back” “ Sorry kid… no can do. my orders came from the Grandmaster himself… Ashla grant him peace.” “ Orders? All I am asking is to sneak back onto the base so that I can get my tiger plush back… that eight inch stuffed toy, that was worn from his years of exploring with me. his eye chipped from the time I tried to wash him… and his little hat.” What I did not notice was that as I spoke the Crystal’s glow absorbed a portion of the pillow next to me. weaving a body around the crystal with cooperation of every word describing the being. My concentration was finally bested when a quiet Mewl came from the Glowing, Corporeal blue tiger. within an instant I felt like a kid again and began cuddling the tiger. from the frame the man muttered
“ Well that certainly ain’t in the Dossier… will need to update it before we cross paths with jedi proper.” then clearing his throat “My unit identification is JM-528, but for a while I took the name Jim. I am not sure if you know, but according to some of the documents you snuck away, you are Diamonte Tuhlute… the second. Welcome aboard the Delicia del Dragón. we have much to discuss regarding the assets you recovered, as well as general debriefing on your time in that facility… but for now I will leave you to rest. we entered Warp prior to you waking up… so we should be arriving on Naboo within 14 hours. there is someone there that I believe would appreciate meeting you. could you meet me in the common room in 8 hours just so we can debrief… until then I grant you permission to look around the ship.”
and with that I was once more alone. I played with my ethereal friend for a little bit until sleep overtook me once again. |
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Kurōn
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Reborn Again!
Posts: 83
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Post by Kurōn on Jul 6, 2016 16:47:18 GMT -8
The Barloz-Class Freighter shot through the swirling confines of hyperspace, destined for Muunilinst. Within the cockpit of the vessel, the former Jedi Knight, Vladimir Savage, sat mulling over the information he had gathered recently.
With his faith in the Jedi philosophies shaken to the very core as of late, Vlad had branched out to bringing order to those in need instead of condemning himself to the confines of the Order. Order against the chaos was something that brought him a measure of peace. It was more fulfilling than running around at the Order's beck and call.
As Vlad read over some documents pertaining to his upcoming assignment, he paused at the picture of a Muun.
While he was certainly out of touch with the greater galaxy as a whole, the rumor mill had been working overtime. The dissolution of the Republic, the collapse of the Galactic Empire and the fall of the Intergalactic Banking Clan and the subsequent rise of an Imperial driven faction. These were all rumors that had made their way to his ears. While he wasn't sure what to believe, he had to proceed with caution. Muunilinst was the former headquarters to the IGBC. And if there was an Imperial faction on the rise, he was almost guaranteed to run into them there. Even though he had forsaken the ways of the Jedi, he would still be identified as such if he were to encounter any Imperials or their Sith allies. With the nature of Imperialism, Sith usually followed. And Vlad had no intentions of fighting a Sith. And worst case scenario, he'd encounter his brother. And that was something he wanted to avoid.
Vlad pushed the thoughts of his brother out of his head as he continued to read.
According to the intel, this Muun was one of the last remaining Muuns on the planet that were still loyal to the IGBC. Unlikely, however it was still possible. Either way, Vlad needed to check it out. Perhaps he could at least get the Muun off planet and somewhere out of the Imperials' line of sight.
Vlad continued to read the intel as the ship continued on its way to Muunilinst.
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