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A planetary economy bent almost to the breaking point by refugees from Coruscant. An orbital satellite grid devastated by battle. A world pillaged during a prolonged military occupation and all the exploitation and looting that come along with that unfortunate fate. And finally, there was the unprecedented complication that the Mandalorian Crusaders--a fanatical off-shoot of a people who were never renowned for military discipline--may not have been completely driven from the world, but instead had gone to ground to take refuge in hidden coverts and redoubts across the planet. 

 

The Survivor’s Foundation had faced complicated reconstruction projects in the past. There was the rebuilding of Mon Calamari, where Esperanza had restored an oceanic ecology from an almost-primordial state of ruin. But industrial waste and chemical hazards weren’t actively trying to kill people, and for the potential presence of the Mandalorians alone, Chandrila was likely to be the most complicated mission they had undertaken. For that reason the Foundation had determined they were likely to require a more forceful intervention than any they had launched in the past. Not only had they decided to dispatch a larger squadron than normal, but they had taken the unprecedented step of requesting the assistance of the Jedi Order.

 

Two pristine-white Star Destroyers popped out of hyperspace within high Chandrilan orbit--one an ancient Venator-class that continued its service as an armored flight deck, and a comparatively newer Victory-class that had been converted to a massive spacefaring hospital. The hulls of the two vessels seemed to glitter as they descended into orbit--closer inspection would reveal that the effect was not an unusual paint-job of Star Destroyer White but the engines and running lights of dozens of freighters and smaller vessels launched for the first hours of the intervention. 

 

The Venator-class Martyriai, flagship of the squadron, took up a geosynchronous position in Chandrila’s orbit, forcibly positioning the great bulk of the converted warship in the debris ring that circled Chandrila to protect her shuttles. Numerous pinpricks of sparks and minor explosions could be seen against the maroon-and-white hull of the carrier as the smaller pieces of debris glanced off of her shields. Only slightly smaller than Martyriai, a Victory-class Star Destroyer stabbed into the void cast by her shadow. Organa, a derelict warship that had been converted to a kilometer-long hospital and stores-ship, began to dispatch shuttles in search for a suitable landing strip that could support her bulk. Even a kilometer-long strip of duracrete that was free of debris would suffice.

 

The answer to this initial survey, after several sensor-laden freighters combed the outskirts of Hanna City, was that there were none.

 

And so the list of complications grew one entry longer.

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The small fleet of concentrated Jedi ships slipped from hyperspace with ease. The Survivor’s Foundation had already been on site of the devastated world for days, setting up camps to dole out all manner of aid to the throngs of offworld refugees, beginning the lengthy process of surveying and preparing to rebuild homes and businesses, taking samples of devastated soils, poisoned plant life, and wildlife that could be found, and much much more. Annals of history needed poured over, the galaxy needed scoured for plants and wildlife that could be brought in to rebuild the fallen world, and an exploding populace of locals and refugees alike needed housing and livelihoods rebuilt.

 

Leena stood on the bridge of the ship, her jaw set in a look of grim determination that offset her warm compassionate eyes. Looking out across the quickly growing planet and fleet before them, she inhaled deeply. This would not be another disaster; not like Mon Cal. She was a Jedi, as a Jedi there were certain expectations that were had of her, and she had expectations of herself.

 

The Jedi had sent a team of healers to assist the medical professionals from all edges of the galaxy that made up the Survivor’s Foundation; between them all, hopefully they could bring relief and hope to the people and the world of Chandrila.

 

As the smaller sized Jedi ships began to touch down on the surface, Leena was one of the first to bound off the ship, her inner light and excitement threatening to burst the seams of her calm exterior facade that she expected all Jedi were expected to carry themselves with. With a deep breath, Leena took in the chaos of the world. Desperation, fear, chaos, it was all there; but in the midst of it, on the backs of the Foundation and the Jedi, there was hope.

 

Exhaling, Leena turned to a passing crewman who was disembarking. “You. Let’s get the supplies offloaded and get to work helping. Once we get started with that, I need all the healers who have come along to rendezvous with me at the mobile hospital complex at the edge of Hanna City.”  

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After I had gotten myself settled in, I felt the shift to hyperspace sway beneath my feet, my gaze turning toward the departing Mon Calamari. Once again, I was left to my own devices and my own mind. It was a bittersweet moment, the tranquility of being in solitude versus the absence of inner peace. I often wondered how Jedi were capable of dealing with such issues on a regular basis, but my own inexperience was unable to fathom any possibilities. I just kept telling myself that it would come in time.

 

With the subtle whirling of the engines, I departed my room for the mess hall, wandering about a bit until I finally located it, giving myself time to think and ponder on the mission ahead. It felt like a simple task, one that would fit me perfectly after the constant harassment of facing the darkness of the Universe, and I needed to see the healing after the battles to truly understand what it meant to be a Jedi. Only then could I truly face Master Armiena as one. Or at least, in this moment, I felt it so. I needed to see the light amidst the darkness, not simply be it.

 

After forcing a meal into my malnutritioned form, feeling the bloating of a slightly overstuffed stomach and the queeziness that followed, I began to walk around and familiarize myself with the ship, learning the aft and port sections, learning my room's location and the bridge, and just casually strolling. Before I knew it, I felt the shift of hyperspace into real space and watched the hustle of our arrival begin. I took in the moment of order, watching every being rush to their stations, some having gazed like my very own while others were firm and clear. It really placed a perspective for me to follow and learn, placing their own burdens aside for those of others. And so I continued on.

 

Chandrila was unlike anything I had seen, the destruction not like Coruscant, but almost as devastating. The entire world seemed to weep, and I could feel it's cry even before I stepped foot upon it's surface. It ached so deeply in my heart that I hid the tears that my own eye shed. But even now as I stood upon it's surface, saw the devastation, saw the plight of it's people, I wept freely. It was as if I could feel their pain, anger, and sorrow washing over me in waves. 

 

Standing atop a peak overlooking Hanna City, I wiped away my tears. It would be a long road of healing for both of us, but I was here for it as much as it was for me.

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Kirlocca took a full moment to stand on top of the landing ramp and let the salt water air hit his nostrils. He could almost immediately remember everything about the last time he was here. There was worry about Dahar at the time from many Jedi, who Kirlocca had to help calm and reassure them that he would be able to handle the Grandmaster at the time and help him in his shortcomings. It was also on the tails of Empress Raven asking for Jedi support, to which at the time, the Wookiee felt like it was a great importance to lend the aid and help mend and create a bridge between the two. The air was sweet then. It no longer presented anything other than saltiness from the ocean that Hanna City sat on the very shores of. He took a few glances around to observe everything that was before him. The damage, the recovery efforts, which were very slow going at best. There was still a massive amounts of damage being recovered and people who were injured during the strike from the Mandalorians when they struck the city. 

 

His eyes then turned towards the two Jedi whom he came along with. The Mon Calamari healer, Leena was quick to put her aid out to those in need. The other, Armiena's apprentice Genesis on the outside was slow and steady in his movements, doing his best to remain a presence of hope, his Force presence was all full of sadness and other emotions that echoed strongly within the Force. Deciding to let the young man be, Kirlocca stood and watched him depart towards other aspects of Hanna City. Only after the boy departed from his sight is when Kirlocca began to walk the main long bridge that connected the port to the city. It was covered in rubble and debris and were just simply pushed to the side. As he walked, he could feel the many eyes look at him, as a Wookiee was a rare sight recently, as his own species have now begun to withdraw to their own planet and work on protecting it and rebuilding against a potential Sith Empire onslaught. To add to the fact that he was dressed in typical Jedi clothing for the moment, it made him a standout as who he was, as Jedi Wookiee's were even rarer to see. They all knew he was. 

 

As he walked into the city, a man looked directly at him and spoke up. "You Jedi, better late than never. We could use help on the healing front along with rebuilding our defenses since none of you seem to want to be around when we're hit." Kirlocca offered up a smile to the man, who clearly did not understand the purpose of the Jedi being there. But then again, he felt like many Jedi would not understand the purpose of themselves being on the planet either. Healing, yes. Defenses, no. 

 

<< Your defenses are not a priority. My other Jedi friends can handle healing and recovery. I'm here to help with a far more important recovery aspect. >> 

 

The man was confused and held no attempt to hide it. "What do you mean the defenses aren't a priority? What could possibly be a bigger issue to worry about?"  Kirlocca slowly walked past the man and stood in a way that suggested that he join him. As the man slowly did, Kirlocca lifted a paw towards a ruined building.

 

<< Do you know that every time I have come here before I would sit at that shop and have some caf. The last time I was here I suggested a friend try out that shop's food spices. When I first came here, a friend had told me of the many beautiful designs of jewelry and clothing that could be bought here.  >> 

 

Still slightly confused, the man looked at the Wookiee with a strong inquisitive look upon his face. At the look, Kirlocca let out a long heavy breath. 

 

<< Your markets are what make Chandrila famous. Worth coming to. The arts, the books and history. The tourism. Why would anyone want to come to a place that has strong defense if it has nothing else to offer? That is the priority for you to recover.  >>

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As the days of the recovery began to roll on, so did my personal position, a transition from one person to another within myself as I gave myself to the rebuilding of this world completely oblivious to my conscious. The first few days, I wandered around in the bliss of self doubt and insecurity, giving the occasional hand of labor in passing or lending my abilities when I came across the injured. But now I had found myself completely delved into my work as I grew to know a handful of the natives.

 

Many of them were not unlike my own fellow Dantooinians, hard workers with little worry for the outside Galaxy until now. Neighbors helping neighbors, a community coming together in the darkest of hours. And slowly, a smile began to return to my face and my heart felt less burdened. This was what I felt the life of a Jedi should be and feel like. So why did we have to fight the wars as well? This questioned plagued me constantly and served as a reminder to what broke me in the first place. But rather than dwell upon it, I pushed my focus on this world and the destruction that had befell it.

 

When I wasn't helping out in the medical tents and the nearby makeshift ward unit, I was out in the streets on Hanna City helping with the rubble that had became this former warzone. Usually it was a chuckle and a laugh that would erupt between our strains and our grunts, jokes aiding to lift our spirits. But every now and again, the streets of Hanna City would fall silent and eeriely still as a new body was found to be counted among the dead as the clean up continued. The Rebel Alliance had managed to evacuate as much of the populace as the could during their retaking of Chandrila, but as I stopped down to close the gapping eyes of the fallen, I couldn't help but know that not everyone was as lucky as the next.

 

Moving away from the crowd that gathered to help in aiding the removal of the body and help to identify the young girl, I walked over to the worker's tent to get me something to drink. I could feel my strength returning, but my heart still lingered upon the precipice of indecision, the face of that Sith still haunting me to this day. How smug he looked as he twisted his ideology to fit his outlook. How he painted the darkness as the greater good. How he believed his path the rightous. It sickened me to the core. And yet, as I gazed across the horizon I saw, I couldn't help but seen some truth in his words. War was ugly, and the innocent suffered the most.

 

Finishing my drink, I continued back to work. Our time here may have only begun, but I was slowly getting better because of it. Perhaps Master Armiena knew more about myself than even I did, and in her wisdom, knew I needed to see the better side after so much bad. Now if I could only get Corellia out of my mind, I would be even better still. But that's a story for another day.

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“No, curse you, it will take us days to unload if we have to do this by shuttle. We need a landing strip. One kilometer of unobstructed duracrete. Seven hundred meters will suffice.” Captain Akhrirar of Organa growled and paced the bridge of the Victory-class Star Destroyer. The Noghri’s hands were clenched and his nostrils were flaring in frustration--the local air traffic control was being very polite and political, but it was clear that the local official either lacked the authority or the imagination to exercise the creativity that a crisis like this demanded. He gesticulated angrily towards the crewpit, signaling--he hoped--that his bridge crew was welcome to improvise.

 

The Noghri endured the polite remarks of the Chandrilan air traffic control for another minute, until one of his crew passed a piece of flimsi into his large hands. “My crew has located a partially bare strip approximately seventeen kilometers north-northeast from the city center. There is some minor construction in the area, largely low-yield walls and temporary structures, a small number of landspeeders surrounding a central structure. We must ask that it be evacuated for our landing.”

 

Had the communique been both visual as well as audio, he would have been greeted with the sight of a Chandrilan’s eye widening in horror. “That’s a stadium! There are ‘speeder races there!”

 

“Excellent. Blast-treated duracrete will be much better suited for the task. Have a radius of two kilometers evacuated; the demolition will not be… clean.”

 

Eighteen minutes later, a Victory-class Star Destroyer hung a few hundred meters above Vandor 800 Speedway. Three hundred meters below it, the staccato lights and sirens of emergency vehicles were racing over the grounds of the stadium and surrounding parking lots, evacuating survivors and vagrants who had taken shelter within the oval-shaped structure and the stores and other venues that surrounded it. As Organa began to descend, filling the air with the roar of capital ship-grade repulsorlifts, it soon became clear that the ship wouldn’t quite fit within its grounds--it was just slightly too long, and its engine block was far too wide to be contained by the structure. In fact, it appeared that it was going to significantly overshoot its mark, that it wouldn’t quite land within the stadium.

 

And then after descending within fifty meters of the planetary surface, the bow of the Star Destroyer began to rise, slowly and ponderously aiming the ship’s engines towards the crude, cheaply-built walls of the stadium.

 

What happened next would have mortified any lover of motor sports. With a single great firing of the ship’s sunlight engines, half of the stadium was blasted to smithereens, reduced to so much rubble that tumbled over and crunched most of what remained to ruins. Little more than the foundation remained--and that was very flat and perfectly suited for the task of landing a gargantuan starship. Several minutes later, Organa returned to the site of the demolition and settled on the ruins on several sets of titanic landing struts.

 

The roar of the Victory-class Star Destroyer’s engines quieted to a dull, rumbling murmur over the next several minutes. Finally, a large boarding ramp descended from what had once been the Star Destroyer’s hangar and dozens of cargo transporters came spilling out, unloading hundreds of tonnes of cargo every hour. A warehouse and field hospital capable of servicing thousands of casualties would be erected in the perimeter of the ship by the day.

 

On the bridge of the Star Destroyer, however, Akhrirar could not allow himself even a small of satisfaction, even as the field hospital began to take shape. For all he knew, there may have still been a small remnant of Mandalorians on Chandrila, and his ship, with its diminished crew and nearly non-existent armaments, would make an excellent prize to the raiders. 

 

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Kirlocca spent most of his time working with the smaller shop keepers in the main city of Hanna City, helping them with small tasks, such as lifting heavy pieces into places. There was a lot of disappointment at first with the lack of use of the Force from the Jedi, but many were still very thankful that the Wookiee was around to even help to begin with. Some would offer to pay him, and he would kindly turn them down, instead finding some joy in the pure smiles of happiness of getting someone doing something for them out of no other desire other than to see them succeed. It was very therapeutic in helping his own mind with coming to terms of being brought back to life by Raven. He didn't hold anything against her, as he was slowly understanding why she did what she did every single day. And through helping others, he was helping reassure himself that it was indeed the right move for her to make. 

 

He would also every so often reach out through the Force to find the young Jedi that was an apprentice to Armiena, Genesis the Wookiee believed his name to be. He would find the presence every so often, and it was slowly getting to be within a good spirit. What started off as distant was now slowly becoming warm every single day. It was a good sign to the Jedi Master. One of those nights, sitting around the main market square eating food with others from the city, Kirlocca found himself slightly unable to fully concentrate on the boy, as conversations were stirring up near by. "No- I'm telling you. Jorran and Hallar were taken. The raiders are keeping themselves somewhat close by to slow or stop our efforts. A military strike might prove useful to us." It was then that the Wookiee could no longer remain focused on the boy, but rather turned his full attention to the conversation.

 

<< A military strike, while might prove to end those simple raids... would only stir a stronger provocation from the Mandalorians. One that could cause an even bigger delay in recovery efforts. >>

 

One of the men sitting around and turned to look at the Jedi. His face narrowed entirely like a sponge and focused directly at the Wookiee. "No offense Master Kirlocca, but if a strike wouldn't settled things, what would? Why bother trying to recover if such constant raids persist?" The words struck within everyone who was nearby and listening. The Wookiee smiled and put down his food. 

 

<< The same reason the Jedi Order persists. >>

 

The confusion the moved around everyone was obvious enough for the Jedi to smile even bigger. He then continued to help them understand. 

 

<< The Jedi are attacked over and over again not because we are great warriors. But because we stand consistently for what is right. Without us, evil would turn on itself and continue to spread chaos and suffering throughout the galaxy. The hope that kindles the largest fires are the ones that can endure the heat the longest. To use aggressiveness against aggressiveness only breds aggression, setting a cycle that becomes harder to break. To over come what is before you, you need to understand what would starve it.  >>

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I had some days that were good, and I had some days that were bad. But as my time here at Chandrila dragged on, I could feel the peace in my heart returning as the City began to revive. Most of the rubble had been cleared by now, the utilities were restored to nearly eighty percent, and almost all the dead or missing had been accounted for. I overheard that reconstruction was going to begin in a week or so once the displaced had found adaquate shelter or lodging. This brought joy to my heart most often than not.

 

Every now and again, I would venture outside the city to the plains where I could overlook the city and see the growth and how much cleaning was left. Most of the time when I was out, I would enjoy a brew of tea and maybe a lunch, or I would wander the battlefields leading up and remember the fallen in silence, scorched scars upon the planer's beautiful surface that would disappear in time while the ghosts remained. Sometimes I would even talk to them, beg them to accept their dates and become one with the Force, if only to help my mind as much as their own if they truly did remain.

 

But who was I to know the truth of the afterlife. Until I joined the Order, I found it to be nothingness, just life and then death, nothing more or less. But after Corellia, and my training under Armiena, I had come to see the many possibilities that were there, and the hardships ever life faced leading up to their ends. There had to be something after. There had to be. It just couldn't end like that after so much pain and agony. 

 

I remember one particular day, I grew so lost in such thoughts that I did not realize that I had dreamt off. The reality of that day blended in with memories of Corellia and before I knew it, I saw his face before me, my hands dangling me over a cliff with waves crashing upon the shore beneath me. His smug face as he beaconed me to die here, upon the shores of my people as my mother's veiled gaze looked upon us with horror. And with a single swipe of his blade, I fell below into the gapping maw of the dark abyss. Sweat beading down my face, I awoke with a jump, feeling the restraints that encircled my hands and body, voices whispering in the darkened distance.

 

"I'm telling you. He's one of them Jedi. We should cut him loose. It's not worth it." A voice echoed throughout the cavern as drops of water followed.

 

"But think of the credits they would pay for his return. Perhaps enough to get us off this lost planet." Another chimed in.

 

"I say we kill him. Kad Ha'rangir demands it." Another spoke, this one feminine.

 

"Silence. Jedi or not, he'll make someone a useful slave along with the rest." A fourth spoke above the others through his Mask, clearly their leader.

 

Feeling a jerk upon my back, I was hoisted up to see a fire lighting up a hidden cavern, a group of maybe ten masked assailants standing around with another behind me. Being shoved forward, I tasted dirt and spit as I landed before the last one to speak, another voice echoing behind me. "Someone's awake, Gren."

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“You know these ones can kill you with a single thought right Gren?” 

 

The Mandalorian shrugged, his rusted shoulder pouldrons dimly reflecting the scattering light of the small campfire that barely lit the gloomy cave. Rose mimicked the shrug over exaggeratedly and thumbed her nose at the older man. She flipped a vibroblade from her pouch and traced a glowing arc over the captive Jedi Knight, she brought it down fast, scraping the blade beside his ear before dancing away. 

 

“Wakey wakey Jedi Rat, Kad Ha’Rangir wants his blood.” 

 

She looked at the young Jedi and let the glitterstim ride her emotions though another pich. 

 

“Jedi are not good slaves Gren. They are good for sacrifice only. Perhaps we make a blood eagle?” She licked her dry lips, her bright blue eyes sparkling. “He hasn’t gotten to taste the Jedi in soooo long.” Her eyes widened impossibly big and she skipped back and forth beside the taller and more formidable Mandalorians who were laughing heartily at her antics. 

 

“He is hunger, he is thirst, he has waited a hundred generations to sup upon Jedi again. “ She pressed the now silent blade against the young man’s chest. Her fervor was high. “Call him Gren, draw the circle, prepare the fire!” 

 

She let out a hideous laugh then scowled at the young Jedi. A taunt, that was not echoed in her wide eyes. 

 

“Or perhaps he will simply reach out and yank on my aorta? Wouldn’t that be easier than being sacrificed?” her eyes stared, almost unseeing at Genesis. 

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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It seemed to be the very next morning when words and rumors began to spread rather quickly of Genesis, the young Jedi who came with him and the Mon Calamari healer had been taken somehow. Kirlocca was quick to begin to poke around to see who knew what and where he was last seen. Every so often he would reach out into the Force to see if he could feel the young man, but he seemed to be far enough away that no such presence could be felt. He did and still could feel the Jedi Healer, Leena. He reached out to her through the Force, letting his emotions flood her, a sense of urgency was about all that he truly wanted to muster to her. He wasn't panicked about Genesis, no worried. He simply knew that he had to find him.

 

He managed to track information that suspected he may have been taken north east along the upper shoreline where some of the other raiding parties had come from. It was good enough of a lead for him, so he paid double to a shopkeeper for a speeder that would be ideal for his needs and began to prep the speeder for departure. Whether Leena had arrived or not, Kirlocca felt her presence and spoke out loud. If she wasn't there, it would seem to any bystanders that the Wookiee may have been losing his mind. 

 

<< I'm going to get Genesis back. I have no real use here past encouragement of muscle of heavy lifting. I'm planning on a small firefight. >>

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Leena had been busy since her arrival. She had helped set up field hospitals, directing other volunteers, and been tending to a menagerie of different patients with an equally varying amount of wounds, injuries, and maladies. Through it all, the force flowed from the Mon Cal girl; from her, to her, and through her, amplified as it radiated out from her with a positive energy that boosted the hearts and minds of patient and attendee alike. With renewed energy, Leena and the volunteers about her were able to work longer and harder. Their results, beyond that of what many had ever seen. A Jedi’s touch. 
 

Leena’s white robes were grayed with grunge and tinged with blood as she finished treating her next patient. She had lost count of how many patients she had seen, but still, the girl felt revitalized. She had not needed to draw her saber or do anything that was not dedicated to advancing the cause of light and right. Darkness seemed to flee from around the girl. Energy seemed to course through her body.

 

Stripping off her disposable gloves and depositing them in a receptacle, Leena took a break to step outside. Looking up with a smile, the young Jedi let the warm sunlight cascade down upon her face.

 

Then she paused. A strange sense of urgency flooded across the waves of the force. It was not one that heralded an impending doom, though it seemed to carry a sense of danger on it’s waves. She felt the presence of the former Grand Master Kirlocca on the end of the tidal force. He had reached out to her. Something was wrong, even if Leena did not know exactly what.

 

Setting off at a brisk walk that turned into a trot, and into a run as the urgency vibrated more strongly each moment. Whatever it was, time was of the essence and speed was not the opposite of peace. Skidding to a stop, Leena saw Kirlocca mounting a speeder. She raised a questioning eyebrow at the statement. She knew the Master’s presence itself was more than muscle. It was a lighthouse of good in the chaos if such a quest. Days in and the chaos of good was still going strong.

 

“A firefight? What is going on? Where did Genesis go? Is he in some sort of danger? I am a Jedi. Whatever is needed of me, I will do. It is probably a good thing I brought my lightsaber with me on this peacekeeping mission. After Mon Cal, I don’t think I’ll ever leave it behind. Things can go south too quickly am I right? And we are Jedi, we need to be prepared for anything. I’ve heard some of the patients talking about Mandalorians? I’ve never met a Mandalorian that I know of. I bet as the Grand Master you’ve met plenty of different people from different cultures haven’t you?” The girl rattled on cheerfully, her young talkative nature not betraying nervousness, but a sense of excitement at being able to accompany Master Kirlocca on a mission of sorts. Realizing she was prattling the girl paused momentarily before asking “So where we going?” 

 

Clammering into the speeder’s passenger seat, Leena looked around. Where was Genesis? She could sense something was off, but she had not known the Jedi apprentice very well and through all the emotions of the sick, wounded and lost she had trouble tracing the young Jedi. “I have a lot of patients counting on me here. We better make this quick Master.”

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The Wookiee smiled at Leena's willingness to join in. Her questions were legit and worthy of a response, as were her concerns for the patients she had here in the city. Turning the engine on, he turned to look at her for the first time. 

 

<< I do not know where Genesis is, but I must find him. Rumors of raiders in the north east shoreline seem to be our best bet at where he may be. If he was taken by these Mandalorians, we need to be cautious. They have been known to kill Jedi very easily. Either way, this will be a quick mission, whether we are successful or not... >> 

 

Kirlocca then pushed the throttle forward and had the two Jedi taking off north east along the shoreline, in hopes of finding the wayward Jedi Genesis. As the rode, Kirlocca kept his presence within the Force strong and constantly pushing it outwards in hopes that Genesis would feel him and know that he was not forgotten or abandoned to a fate he did not want.

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I felt the pull of my form to my knees, knelt before the group like a pleasant glaring at invading Knights, each stare grim and unpleasant. My gaze shifted against the sun beaming through a hole in the cavern's ceiling as I saw the small one and heard her voice, flinching in pain as her blade cut against my ear. I hung my head in silence, opening myself to the Force with a deep sigh, hoping someone could feel my presence amongst it's flow.

 

"You have nothing to fear from me Mandalorians. I do not seek combat." I spoke, feeling a glimmer of hope in the presences flowing back to me upon the Force. I did not fear, nor did I doubt. I felt accepting and unwaivering in whatever outcome would present. Shifting my face toward it's leader and the little one, the patch covering my Miraluka eye hiding my heritage, I spoke a single promise. "But I cannot speak for those who come seeking me. After what your kind have done to this world and others like Coruscant, they may not be so forgiving."

 

Pressing my chest against the blade held against it, blood dripping from the shallow slice, my gaze shifted alone to the azura eyes of her. "My failure in battle is my own. Can you claim the same?"

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“Now now, it was the Sith that crashed that bloody moon into the damn city world, you think if we had the strength to do that we would simply have let ourselves get bogged down on this Shit world?” 

 

She spat onto the Jedi’s eyepatch and pressed the knife until its vibrations touched the bone structure of his ribcage. The smell of boiling blood and burning blood piqued her sense of smell and she grinned. 

 

“We were deemed to be rubbish that Kad Ha’Rangir tossed aside. Like a breeze blown before a firestorm. We have only one purpose now. To light the fire again.” 

 

She threw the young man down and tore the robe down his back. And placed the vibroblade along his spine. 

 

“Now you will be sacrificed. Say your prayers Jedi Knight.” She leaned down so that her lips caressed his right ear. “Unless you want to show us your power.” 

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Leena inhaled sharply at the mention of the Mandalorians. She had heard stories of their brutality, both in the operating room and from aged Jedi texts. “I’m not that good with this thing,” she mumbled fingering the lightsaber hanging at her waist and setting in her lap as she sat in the speeder.

 

Closing her eyes for a moment, Leena sought out the inner warmth of light that the force seemed to have nestled in her chest. Focusing on that, she breathed slowly, letting the calm radiate outwards into her body, extremities, and beyond. As the speeder tore across the uneven rocky ground beneath it, Leena felt the world around them. Natural, wounded, but the purity of nature still rung with truth. She could understand why Jedi naturalists chose their vocation. Something about it spoke to the deepest recesses of one’s soul, even the healer’s. This was not her lot in life however. She felt the world about them as it rushed past, allowing her mind abd soul to find a center amongst the truths it offered.

 

It was then that she felt it. The speeder tore forwards in the deft hands of the Jedi Master Kirlocca, allowing Leena to submerge herself deeper and deeper into the force. There it was! The unnatural, a darkness that spoke not of life and natural but of pain, hatred, and disorder. “Mandalorians,” the young Jedi Knight whispered loudly, her eyes fluttering open to look first at Kirlocca and then off into the distance. Pointing a finger forward and to their right, Leena indicated the direction that she felt the disturbance calling from. She did not know if it was who they were looking for or if Genesis was among them, but she knew that like a cancer within a patient, a darkness that threatened to spread and destroy whatever fell into it’s grasp was boiling in the area. Cancerous removals were an area that Leena was proficient in.

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The burning sensation of pain, the searing of flesh and bone, my eyes lit with mixed emotions. On one hand, I could fight, out numbered and likely outmatched. But on the other, if I did nothing, I could die and my life would return from wince it came; back to the Force. As I fell upon the ground, tasting the dirt of Chandrila once again, I could feel the tornado of choices in my mind.

 

"Typical. You claim yourselves to be Warriors of Kad Ha'rangir, yet you prey upon the meek." I spoke, my words spitting upon the ground as it's grit intertwined with my own saliva. "I've seen your kind many times on Dantooine, and it's always the same. Forever the coward, never the brave."

 

With that said, I felt the pull of the Force tug at my soul, it's will bound to me like our fates balanced one another. I knew in that moment what I must do. Like a torrent, the Force came to my form and swirled about me, first pushing against the blade and protecting my form before extending outwards into a shell of protection. It wasn't my time. The Force had not willed it. It's purpose for me had not been fulfilled. And with a smirk, an explosion of the Force lept outward, pushing away everything and everyone near my form.

 

Standing, the Force swirling around my form, I spoke but a humbled sentence. "I said that you had nothing to fear from me, that I would not fight. I never said that I would not preserve myself."

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Rose let her eyebrows waggle in an almost comedic emphasis. 

 

“Wait did you think that Kad Ha’Rangir, the War God himself, Son of Fire, The Untamed, War-Aspect, and the Destroyer of Arasuum would not prey upon the weak? Her laugh was a mix of bitterness and madness. 

 

“We come to destroy Weakness little Jedi. For we are the harrowing flame, we are the crusade. Those that must shape the galaxy before the stage is set for the next war. For the Galaxy must be ready for what awaits it. And Weakness of any kind must be purged in the harrowing fire of Kad Ha’Rangir.” 

 

She let herself get picked up and thrown by the force push, landing lightly on her feet, her strong hand found the handle of the hatchet that hung from its leather loop on her belt. Its hilt was a strong ash wood, taken from the forests of some conquered planet in the middle core worlds. A planet she couldn't pronounce. One whose trees probably still burned. The hatchet in her hand began to hum in a furious rhythm. If there had been percussion behind it it would have matched the beating of her heart.

 

“Jedi have always preserved that weakness, and are knights of Arasuum. You embody His weakness. His Sloth, His mercy. And that is why this war has raged for millennia. For you lack the strength to finally finish it.” 

 

She flipped the vibroblade in her weak hand so that it was in a forward grip. Perfect for quickly striking beneath a guard. 

 

“So then give us the taste of your preservation Arasuum.” 

 

And then she leapt at him, the light of the campfire illuminating the tears upon her freckled cheeks. The wicked hatchet aiming for his exposed midsection. 

 

((1))

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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“Jedi have always preserved that weakness, and are knights of Arasuum. You embody His weakness. His Sloth, His mercy. And that is why this war has raged for millennia. For you lack the strength to finally finish it.” 

 

I heard her words with attentive ears, taking the moment as she drew herself ready to activate the Vibro-knucklers and singe away my bindings, freeing my hands as the circle began to form around the two of us, Gren looking on with anticipation as his Orders needed no words. We two would duel in single combat, interference prohibited. An uholy aura of darkness immeniated from the woman before me, the darkness within her soul and her palm stale and stagnant from over reliance. She had long lost her way.

 

“So then give us the taste of your preservation Arasuum.

 

As her form took flight, I found myself distracted by the blade she swung my way, the essence of the darkness within momentarily misguiding my thoughts. Was it Sith? Or was it hatred and hurt? Was it her pain? Or another? So many questions filled my mind that I barely held a moment to react and mostly on instinct, the blade of the hatchet slicing into my shoulder as I pivoted on my right heel and drove my form away. As the blade touched my blood within my flesh, I saw a flicker of its history and my focus grew stronger.

 

Grasping forward with my right arm toward her weak hand in an attempt to disarm her and break her balance with a follow through lunge, the barrier of the Force still swirling around my form with intensity, I growled. "You speak of Kad Ha'rangir and Arasuum, and yet, you know nothing. Clinging to the old ways, afraid of change, and prowling upon the weak is Arasuum's path of Stagnation. It is the very thing the Jedi fight against and the Sith hold dear. If you are truly a Warrior of Kad Ha'rangir, then fight against the strong and defend the weak just as the Jedi do. Only through change will the stagnation be cleansed."

 

((Combat Action: Took Glancing Blade in Left Shoulder while trying to pivot backwards. Grasped at vibroblade in other hand and lunged at Rose trying to disarm and unbalanced her.))

 

((1))

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The hum of the Jedi’s vibro-knuckler joined the rhythm of her own blades. The rest of the Mandalorians in the cave stood and began to join that rhythm with percussion. A song of war, a song of the old crusade. A song of Mand’alors long forgotten, the song of a people on the precipice of extinction. They drummed hands on armour or or the butts of blaster rifles on the ground to make the deep rhythm of destruction. The song of a heartbeat. And Rose reveled in it. 

 

The hatchet bit into him but found no purchase as he pushed against her, his large form for the moment unbalancing her and forcing her to make a quick sidestep in order to not be disarmed. But he did not follow through with a strike of his own so she pushed off her back foot and brought the vibroblade up in a quick stab towards his now exposed underarm as she passed him. It was not as strong as she would have liked it due to being unbalanced, but Vibroblades did not need a horrendous strength to kill. Turning back around with the hatchet humming near her ear, she grinned, flecks of blood splattering from its blade to coat the side of her face. 

 

The key, she knew, was to keep up a furious offense to break the root of his concentration, but he was demanding an answer. For this was as much a clash of ideologies as weapons. 

 

No. Weakness should never be preserved or guarded. It is not something precious. Weakness is to be destroyed.” She spat those words with a fierce growl, her voice low. “You do not craft a weapon out of weak metal without first purifying it in the fire.” 

 

And she struck again with the hatchet, its blade aiming for the slim crook between neck and shoulder. As she stepped into the swing, her knife up to deflect any counter strikes from the Jedi’s own vibro weapon. 

 

(Combat Action: Unbalanced by Genesis, struck at his underarm and neck.))

((2))

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Kirlocca slowly nodded his head as he heard Leena's voice within his ears. Taking the controls, he slowly had the speeder pull off to a side to avoid being detected. As he did so, he reached out into the Force to fully feel what was surrounding the two Jedi. He leapt off the speeder and towards a rock formation that would allow for him to scout ahead without being seen. Surprisingly his leap was more fluid and graceful than what he thought it would be for someone who was still getting used to being alive again. The Force is being generous to me, that much is clear. He looked around to see what was present out there. Without looking back, he spoke quietly to Leena. 

 

<< About 3. They're scouts themselves. Which means they're close enough to Genesis. How close, I can not say. But we better take them out, and do it quickly, or else we'll draw more to us. >>

 

It was the last thing he wanted to do, create a scene that draws more Mandalorians out. They still didn't know how many remained behind, so the fight could be quick or drawn out, depending entirely on how close to the camp they were to these scouts. Summoning the Force to himself, Kirlocca leapt into the air towards the Mandalorians, igniting his lightsaber he received from Tobias. The glowing orange blade quickly struck through the weapon of a firearm that one Mandalorian attempted to block the attack from. The weapon was easily torn in two, followed quickly by Kirlocca's own swing of his arm into an arc that struck the Mandalorian across the chest in a diagonal cut. The armor gave some slight resistance to the blade, protecting the warrior wearing it from death. Luckily for both, it was not Kirlocca's intention to slay the warrior. As he stumbled backwards, Kirlocca followed his arc swing with a powerful kick to send the warrior flying backwards towards the rocks. Before the Mandalorian even landed, Kirlocca was back at the ready for the other two who were now prepared for him. 

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Leena bailed out of the speeder, only a fraction of a second slower than the reincarnate wookiee. The force silently hummed about her, it’s energy feeding her senses. This was not an emergency ward or surgery, but her senses were attuned as such, looking and feeling for any abnormality that might present itself, needing quick removal before it could cause more damage.

 

Still, the girl was not quite prepared for the suddenness by which her cohort drew his saber and fell to the attack. Her weapon rested solidly against her hip yet. Leena was not willing to draw it. What was the use?

 

But still, Kirlocca’s actions demanded that she respond as well, lest he fell the trio of Mandalorian watchmen. Scurrying from behind the rocky cover Leena reached out in the force as the Mandaloriand turned their attention to the hairy onslaught of humming orange plasma. 
 

With outstretched arms, Leena lept, her body curving into a forward rolling flip onward and upward towards the two remaining guards. The force hummed at her fingertips as she focused on the light that it churned within her. 
 

Like a tumbling stone she rolled through the air just above the being’s helmeted heads. With the skill of a surgeon, she reached out as she passed, planting a hand on top of each of their bucketed heads, releasing a pulse of healing energy; pure force designed to be applied in surgery to distract and dull the senses in place of anesthetic . It was a touching wave of outward power that was intended to cut one’s senses off from themself. A dull senseless feeling spread from Leena’s hands outward through the Mandalorians’ armor and into their persons, a feeling that dulled the nerves and numbed feeling in what normally would be preparation for surgery so as to avert the pain of being cut into. Senseless dullness spread out through the warrior’s craniums and into their chests and upper arms along the neural pathways. Nothing, in and of itself was inhibited, but that feeling of one’s own form being felt foreign and unfeeling was enough to cause a sense of distraction.

 

Landing with a thud on a foot and knee on the other side, Leena pivoted to look back at her partner and the others, her sense spreading out from her searching for any other cancerous threats, her unlit saber hilt finding it’s way to her hand.

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"The March of Manda'lor can be as driving as it can be of focusing...."

 

These words echoed in my head as memories of my distant past flooded through my mind, the rythmn of my pulse matching the rythmn of war. I could feel the darkness flowing from the intent, feel the sweeping of the mood flowing in the Force as it flowed naturally about our forms, edged on my the darkened hearts that sought combat. And I could feel myself being swept up in it within the moment as the percussion of the drummings. And then pain.

 

I had to focus my mind against the ache of the blade as it sliced ligaments and flesh, my own inner darkness attempting to flare in this moment of battle after I caught sight of the glimmering blade just seconds before it gouged through the crease of my arm. Some say that man's nature was of war and it was easily to give in, but as a Jedi and as an orphan, I had long fought against my natural urges to remain the memory of myself before that fateful day on Dantooine. It wasn't an easy task, but one I employed with accepted consequences. And as the pain tore at my nature, I focused my thoughts to remain myself.

 

The barrier that had encased my form expanded as I focused, pushing outward with heavy prejudice as I broke away from her form and lunged myself backwards, placing a few feet of distance between us. Taking the brief reprisal, I redirected the Force to my wounds, letting my natural healing ability to increase exponentially. "You say that weakness should be purged, but what is weakness? Is it age? Is it the opposition of luck? Or is it what you decide it is? I spoke, my intent to buy myself some time to heal myself, or at least clot the wounds. "Everything has weaknesses, even you. But weaknesses can be honed into strength, if nurtured properly and given time."

 

Combat Action: Took glancing blow from vibroblade; expanded Force Barrier to push myself and Rose part while I incorporated Force Healing using idealogy as a distraction

 

((2))

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Rose felt the blade yet again bite into flesh, the thirsty blade drinking of it. But again she was hurled away. This time harder, as if a wall had been suddenly thrown at her. Tears stung her eyes as she stumbled into a crouch. The taste of copper flooded her senses as she blinked away the tears and felt the blood of her broken nose dripping down her chin. She reset her stance and coiled her back leg below her as she waited for his counter strike, the attack to follow his blow that could have finished her. But instead he chose to speak. 

 

Time? Nurture? This galaxy had been given decades of time to heal and prepare themselves for the unavoidable return of the Sith Lords. But what had the Galaxy done? It had sat on its haunches, dismissed its military, and let itself be infiltrated by a thousand leeches in the form of a senate. She had seen it. She had seen the suffering of the thousands. The escape ships on fire below mandalorian artillery. The Galactic Alliance crumbling while its rich made away in private craft. While trillions died in smoke and horror. That was the true price of sloth. And the Jedi had paid for it, the galactic alliance had paid for it. But they had not learned the lesson from it. 

 

The galaxy deserved to be molded by stronger hands than that of the failed Jedi Order! Her voice was muffled by the bleeding state of her nose, every word echoed by a spatter of blood upon the cave floor. 

 

“Did not the Jedi and your Galactic Alliance have years to prepare for us?”  She spoke of the grand threat of the Sith and the Mandalorians. Her voice following the beat of the mandalorian war song rose with its pitch. “You had your nurture and your time and you failed. It was left for us wolves to tear apart!” 

 

But she had given him enough respite. She had answered his debate in turn. For, what respite was there when the drums were beating the song of war? Only blood would seal the argument. 

 

So she took the step and closed the distance, driving the vibro hatchet with all the force her muscles could bear in a downward swing to his exposed and wounded shoulder. The drums were begging for his blood. And this time she did not hold back and followed the first strike with a stab to his chest. Her god demanded his death, and she would give him the blood he desired. 


 

((Combat actions: Took the force push to the face, strike again to the shoulder and to the chest))

((3)) 

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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As the bleeding stopped, I gazed at my opponent and saw her injuries as I felt mine. This was the price of war, the essence of battle. It was a place of darkness, an ending only leading to guide more upon it's path. I remembered it just as I remembered Corellia and the face of Mordecai, and why it tore my soul in two. Violence begets violence, hate begets hate, and scar begets scar. It was an never ending cycle of vengeance. Just as I saw and heard at Corellia.

 

Just as Mordecai blamed the Jedi for oppression, the girl before me claimed sloth and unpreparedness. But we weren't soldiers. We weren't Gods. We were monks, Adepts in the will of the Force. Long has the rank of Knight implied Warrior, taking away our identity as Philosophers and Idealogists. So much so that I had viewed myself as such until I was broken at Corellia and my core belief shattered when I stood as a defender of light endowed with the task of cutting away the cancerous dark.

 

But here at Chandrilla, I regained some of what was lost, rebuilding myself as I helped rebuild Hannah City and my understanding became clearer. I was not just a Defender of the weak and helpless. I was a Jedi, Protectorate of peace and tranquility, meant to guide the lost and broken back into the logistics of Progress and Peace. That was my core duty. And as I gazed into her hate filled eyes and felt the war within herself, I felt pity and sorrow for her. She was a lost soul defiled by the Darkness of her own heart, hiding behind the guise of war to fill the emptiness of her soul. And it was my job to help her see the truth.

 

"We defend so that evolution can occur without the seed of hate." I spoke, my face soft and welcoming as I tried to reach her soul. "War breeds only death, destruction, and emptiness, a never ending stagnant of loss and vengeance in place of progression and growth."

 

I felt a weakness within me grasp at my form, forcing me to catch myself from toppling over. In that moment, she took her chance. I had taken too much of my energy to protect myself and her, and she must have saw her opportunity. More sorrow filled my heart. This mission had grown all wrong, from isolation and solitude for my soul to war once again gracing Chandrila's surface even in the cavern littered cove of its sea. But my purpose had grown even more clear, and like Corellia, my vision became stronger.

 

Like before, time felt as if it slowed down to a near stand still. The steadied pulse of my heart beat echoing in my mind as I saw her actions and intent intertwine with fate and I knew that she had made her choice. It broke my heart that she would remain lost to her inner darkness and never see the light of truth. And even as I yelled toward her form, only fate would prevent the outcome of this day.

 

"Stop!" I shouted, the echoing of my voice intertwining with my wish for this moment to be adverted. But it would not be so, the Force encircling my form flowing outward tenfold with my wish as it raced toward her and the others to end our confrontation peacefully and without death, and a tear streaming down my face.

 

Combat action: Force Repulse.

 

((3 - Choose our mod. Fun duel brother.))

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Genesis Vs Rose ruling

 

After reading through the duel, I felt that the most poignant issue to address was Genesis's approach. While we feel that a strategy focusing on defense is viable for winning duels, that strategy must build up to a believable win condition, and I did not see anything presented as to why Rose would cease fighting. (Side note for future reference, any kind of bladed hit on the crease of the arm, if referring to the inner elbow or armpit, is a very bad time due to how much blood moves through that part of the body).

 

Result: Victory for Rose Cariadus

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But the drumming beat of the Mandalorians did not relent, and the the vibroblade sank up to the hilts in the right side of the Jedi Apprentice’s chest. It rattled against the back of his rib cage and collapsed his right lung. She withdrew the blade after snapping off its microvibration function as a new call burst through battle stupor. There were more jedi. 

 

And thus her dreams of a dark sacrifice were at an end. She had won the argument, but not the war itself. She cursed softly and looked up to the caves dark roof. Kad Ha’Rangir was a harsh master. She placed her hand on Genesis’s chest and pressed upon the wound. But the blood flow was already slackening. Miraculous jedi healing had saved the young man from instantaneous death and somewhere in Rose’s now tiring head she knew it was for the better. A hostage like him would save them from the brunt of the Jedi Master’s wroth. 

 

She lifted a thin hand and stared at the clotting blood that covered her pale skin then stood looking at her brothers and sisters who were readying their weapons. She pulled Genesis to his feet and walked him to the entrance to the cave where she could already hear the dim hum of lightsabers. 

 

A wookiee and a Mon Calamari? She gave them a bloody smile and an equally bloody wave. And when she spoke, her free hand spoke along with her in the lorrdian kinetic language she had grown up with. 

 

“It appears that your boy here believed that he could take on the might of Kad Ha’Rangir. We have proven him wrong. But fear not, the fool still lives. If barely. We offer him as a price for our escape, but if you wish to take us, then you will loose the boy.” 

 

She set him down against the wall and gave them a shrug her vibroblade coming back to life in her hand. Would they let the Mandalorians walk away? Or would there be another fight? 

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Kirlocca paused as the emerging Mandalorian spoke with Genesis by her side, wounded. He glanced over the entire situation and felt the currents of the Force speaking loud and clear to him. He lowered his lightsaber to a relaxed position, but did not deactivate the blade. He glanced quickly to Leena and gave her a look that suggested he wanted her to follow his own movements. 

 

<< I of course assume that when you say escape, you mean from the system. There is nothing here to be gained anymore for Kad Ha’Rangir. If those are your full terms, then we accept them. >>

 

Kirlocca remained where he was and reached out slowly with the Force. First to feel out Genesis to make sure he was indeed alive, and also secondly to attempt to encourage the Mandalorian to make the decision that was indeed best for everyone at this point.

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Standing to a slight crouch, Leena looked over the emerging Mandalorians and the bleeding Genesis. The Jedi she had met en route to this world lay slumped and bleeding before them.

 

Exchanging a knowing glance with the much larger furred Jedi beside her, Leena easily reslung her yet unlit saber. She offered a warm smile to the lead Mandalorian woman that spoke towards them, reaching out on a wave of warm light force to feel for the downed Jedi. She instinctively felt the downed Jedi’s wounds. She wanted to rush to his aid; but knew better. Situations such as this demanded more than a healing hand. Diplomacy was a fine art, especially if one wanted to forego any further violence. ‘Especially with those who claim violence as their native tongue’ she mused to herself.

 

With a soft pulse of encouraging energies, Leena directed her healing energies towards Genesis in an effort to at the least stymie the flow of blood and the looming approach of death until she could render more direct aid. Still, she kept a wary eye on the weapon-toting Mandalorians, her senses on edge. She trusted Kirlocca to handle the initial situation if it devolved to violence. 

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“Then he is yours to do with as you wish. Though I would recommend you teach him to not run off from the pack.” She squinted a grin towards the Wookiee and Mon Calamari before giving them a near mocking bow. She gave a wave and the troup of battered mandalorians made thor way towards one of the escape shuttles that had been seeded on world from the Xaakzaamheid several months before. 

 

It would be a long journey. But she did not look back. There would be another future for her people. For her god. 

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Leena ignored the Mandalorian quip as she watched the brood of warrior peoples make their way away. In truth, the situation had gone better than she expected. Their leaving the planet would make it easier to begin the healing. The force works in mysterious ways.’

 

Leena turned her full focus on the badly injured Genesis. She rushed forward to the wounded Jedi, pressing her hand into the wound, warm tingling force energies surging forth from he fingers as they were coated in blood. Wrapping her free arm around Genesis’ waist, Leena heaved, assisted by a surging power within the force. With one careful step after another, she made her way back towards their speeder. There she carefully secured Genesis in what had been her seat, scrunching herself into the area between the wounded Jedi and the dash. Leena kept pressure on the wound as she silently drew in the natural world around them and channeled the pureness of the force within heart out through her hands and very pores, a warm glow emanating all about. “You are ok brother. Focus your mind on the force. Let it mingle with the light and pour out from your soul. Say it with me, emotion, yet peace; ignorance, yet knowledge; passion, yet serenity; chaos, yet harmony . . . “


Once Kirlocca had climbed back aboard and they returned to the city, Leena quickly turned over the care of Genesis to some of the expert healers in the city. The Jedi Knight went so far as to escort Genesis into the field hospital and oversee his care until she was sure that he had been stabilized. She felt the force swirling about them. With one final surge of healing power directed towards Genesis, Leena excused herself from the hospital. She knew that Kirlocca had to leave and the rescue fleet was busy rebuilding the fractured world. Still, Leena wanted to be sure that everything was just right. With the Mandalorians departing, guarded envoys of medical professionals and supplies could begin to venture out towards the smaller cities, towns, and settlements. Leena was determined to see that this aid was not hampered in any way.

 

An hour later, Leena walked out of the makeshift command center, a smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. She was confident that teams would be heading out post haste. Furthermore, she had been able to guarantee that Genesis would be transported back to Jedi Headquarters once he was stable enough  to be transported.

 

Walking towards a haphazard looking freighter, Leena’s eye lit up at the site of a trio of barrel height brightly colored Squibs. Their chatters of delight at the arrival of their friend emanated through the force. “Look brothers of closest kin! It is our dearest of fish-like comrades of peace and death defying anti-ouch healing generousity-minded Jedi, Doctory Doc Leena Kil who kills not! Doctory Doc we have come to take you on to the ice world of secretive Jedi secrets with your fearsome quiet shadow friend.”

 

 Leena stooped to wrap each of the chattering squirrel-esque beings in a warm hug, genuinely pleased to see that they had come for her. Leena and the Squibs had a long history and they had been very compassionate in helping the Jedi in her fledgling years. Now that she was a Jedi Knight, the squibs were more happy than ever to help the now liberated Jedi spread peace and compassion throughout the galaxy, by force if necessary.

 

Striding down the loading ramp, an armored Corellian whose signature was lost in the expanse of the force offered a bowing head-nod to Leena. Leeba stood, her expression turning slightly more serious aside from the smile on her face and in her eyes. Bowing slightly she greeted the man, “Defender Mantis, I am honored to have you by my side again.”

 

After exchanging pleasantries and discussing the happenings of the Squib tribes, Chandrilla’s rebuilding, and the state of the galaxy, the group boarded the carefully crafted hunk-of-junk that was the Squib designed vessel and set off into the cosmos. Their next destination: Ilum.

 

 

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