Mission: Hearts and Minds

[Dawyn]

Londinium. A cold, overcrowded, depressing city, a place that even with all its financial might and technological advances could not seem to banish poverty. Or perhaps there was little will or incentive to do so. After all, that would require the elite to care about something other than their own self-preservation or power. In his experience, that was as rare as a repentant Sith, possible, but one would never bet on it. At least he was here to do something about it.


Even if we had to twist the Drayens’ arms a little bit, maybe they are not quite so bad as some of the other nobles, or civil war. They agreed that something should be done to help the poor, if only to prevent further uprisings against their rule. Whatever, intentions matter little, the food and medical supplies we’ll be delivering today will.


He and Yva were part of a lightly armed convoy of food and medicine into the slums of the city, which had suffered the brunt of the coup attempt and had yet to be reconstructed. It did not surprise him, the poor suffered the most in any war and for the most part cared little about who ruled over them, so long as their lives did not change too much and they had the essentials for survival. It was hard to care about politics when you’re starving.


Turning to Yva, who walked next to him, he lowered his voice, nodding toward the crowd that had begun to follow them, and gestured to the burnt out buildings, some of which likely still contained corpses.

“This may not be...pleasant...but I want you to look. It is important to keep in mind that soldiers, generals, and Jedi are not the only casualties of war, or indeed, the majority.” He said to her in a low voice. “It is also why, when planning an assault, you should be precise, swift, and deadly, without a second's hesitation. The longer a battle drags on, the more collateral damage is done. If you ever have doubts, save them until you are safe. They can and will get you killed otherwise."

He continued walking down the street, extending his senses to the buildings around him. They were being watched, and not by friendly faces.

“And, in many ways, the hardest part about war is dealing with its consequences…”

And we only have a few security officers with us, going into a slum that was likely not the safest place to begin with. The Drayens could not afford to send more, not with their army massing for the final assault. He had a feeling this would not be a simple relief mission.

@Orbis

 

[Orbis]

Looking through the crowds of this city, Yvannia's mind raced with ideological ideals. She knew she shouldn't get involved in trying to tell other peoples how to behave, but she couldn't help but feel disgusted by the extreme disparity of wealth on display, and by the devastation pointed out by her master. She wasn't a stranger to death - no Jedi in these times they lived in could be, she'd reckon - but even so, she hadn't had occasion to be this close up to it. Unpleasant was an understatement. Her gut churned.

Their mission there was to aid these people, and that did bring her some measure of comfort, but even then, she felt it was only a half-measure. Briefly, romantic notions of peasant uprisings overthrowing the monarchy and instilling a fair, just democratic state dedicated to the equality of all flashed through her mind, before cold, hard reality flooded in, revealing this would only lead to more death and bloodshed, and wouldn't address the underlying problems. Besides, criticising the local government and plotting its downfall wasn't what they were here for. Quite the opposite, in fact.

This was going to be a long mission. She steeled herself for what was to come.


"Yeah... Don't think I can forget it after seeing something like that. How many countless thousands were killed there? How many more displaced? Injured? I'm glad we can at least offer them some assistance," she says, unable to take her eyes off the horrific scene of the burnt-out buildings, themselves standing as massive tombstones in the distance, marking the final resting place of untold innocents.

While she herself couldn't sense it, she nonetheless knew they were probably being watched. These types of people don't like being left out of the loop, and knowledge is power. After all, it's what she'd do.

All of this just for control of a throne, out of greed and selfish desire for power and influence... Disgusting. I just hope the ones responsible don't evade justice.

With every passing mission, drinking was starting to look more and more appealing. Certainly now, the young padawan felt like she could really use a drink.

 

[Dawyn]

“Aye, some assistance is better than none. Many of these people may have lost their homes and most of their possessions, but at least they will not die of starvation and lack of medical care.” He paused, glancing at her face. He didn’t need to be a telepath to tell she was disturbed by the whole situation. He didn’t blame her, so was he. “The changes, and in particular the mindset, that will actually help the poor takes quite some time to achieve, no matter whether it is an autocracy or a more democratic form of government. The Republic is, yet poverty is still there, inequality is still there. Reforms that will truly help them cannot be rushed, not without much bloodshed.”

He continued walking silently for a moment as they turned a corner into a narrower street, filled with refuse and debris.

“Right now they need stability, and that is what the Drayens will be good at if we end this civil war. That’s what we can help achieve, and maybe make sure it’s a little bit more equitable this time around. Perhaps if they feel kind enough to acquiesce to a Jedi Lord later, we can invite some economists here, and they can, slowly, explain that a reduction in poverty and a large middle class will do much to boost the economy, and in turn, expand their own coffers and influence.”


He gave Yva an ironic smirk. “Sometimes I feel that in terms of truly helping people, we’d be much better off studying charts and graphs than using the Force and swinging our lightsabers around. Then we-”


He froze at the tingle that snaked across his neck, head glancing up like a fox who had caught wind of a pursuer. The figures that had been stalking them from the rooftops were not merely observers, but armed. And now they had the guns trained on the convoy.


“Yva…” He started, taking out his lightsaber and igniting it, before a loud boom of a rocket launcher fired from one of the buildings, hurtling a rocket straight towards them. Reaching out with the Force, he shoved it violently upwards and to the side, hitting one of the assailant’s groups in a shower of rubble and screams. Blaster fire began to pour down from nearly every angle, more than a few bolts striking their security escorts, who were mowed down in moments with the little cover available. Even he was beginning to have trouble deflecting all of the shots with Soresu. “We’re outmatched!"

@Orbis

 

[Orbis]

Yvannia knew Mak was right. Drastic change through conflict didn't help anyone, and only caused more problems. She knew this, but she certainly didn't like it. She wished there was some way to just fix everything, and make everything suddenly better for everyone. She wanted to help these people, and make their lives better. And if that meant change by the sword, she wondered if it was worth it in the long run, if a sudden spike in death all at once or prolonged suffering and deaths over time was preferable.


"I know, it's just... It seems so unfair sometimes, to force people to continue like this."

Especially since we're actively aiding the regime and keeping them in power, she thought.

"Are we really the good guys here?"

Or, are we the oppressive tyrants, keeping the people down and in the dirt so our friends in high places can continue to exploit them and profit from their misfortune, in turn assisting us as we go kill people in our war?


As she pondered this dilemma, she hadn't even noticed the figures on the rooftops. And so, it came as a complete surprise to her when they were suddenly under attack from multiple angles. Explosions, blaster fire, rock fragments... The air was full of activity as Yva drew her own lightsaber, igniting its yellow blade as she bats back a few shots of her own. She'd never liked the weapon, finding the weight balance off, and the blade too light. It didn't feel heavy enough for her, but it felt quite a bit better than being hit by a blaster bolt. However, she wasn't an expert of Soresu, so this barrage was entirely too much for her to handle. She sent one of the assailants falling from their perching with a well-placed Force pull.

She nods toward an alleyway further down the street, easily a 15 meter sprint across open ground away, "I think we should consider a withdraw! Last stands weren't really in the job description!" As she spoke, a second rocket was fired down on them from yet another group, blasting a sizeable hole in the ground near the two and kicking up a thick cloud of dust and smoke that filled the air, illuminated by blaster bolts casting bright red glares on the loose particles filling the air. If it hadn't been for the present danger they found themselves in, Yva might've even called the display breathtaking. It certainly was that, but not in a good way. She coughed and covered her mouth and nose with her scarf, using it as a face wrap - one of the many potential uses such a multipurpose and fashionable bit of kit possessed - using the cover of the smoke to make a run for the alleyway with Force-enhanced speed.

 

[Dawyn]

“Good idea!” Maksem shouted back, fending off yet another wave of red death that burned through the air, stumbling as the ground shook beneath him with the impact of the second rocket. All of their escorts were dead, or soon to be-they were equipped to handle a couple ruffians and maybe an angry crowd, not a well-coordinated strike by this large of a group. Maybe if Yva was another Form III master they could have made it to the rooftops and fought them off, but he had seen how much she struggled simply holding her own. He’d have to tutor her in Form III one day, and soon.


Glad Evanova insisted I work so hard on it. He thought as he scrambled after Yva, using the Force and the cover of the dust to speed away after her. After they had scampered through more than a few narrow streets, he sensed that they had lost their pursuers. Not surprising, after all. They weren’t out to kill Jedi, merely steal the supplies meant for the poor and the hungry. And the Drayens will say this is all they could afford to spare, especially if two Jedi cannot even manage to escort the supplies to those who need it.


Gesturing to a nearby dilapidated bench, he gestured for Yva to sit with him as he wiped the dust off his robes. He made sure to look her over as he did so with both his eyes and senses to make sure that she was okay. Not sensing any obvious wounds, he spoke.


“I know you’re still not comfortable with your saber, but, I hope today has illustrated the need to learn more. I think it’s time for you to learn some Soresu, after this mission. Most people you’ll encounter and fight will be using blasters, and even against sabers, it’ll help you survive.” He said, taking a pouch of water off his belt and drinking it, then offering it to her.


“Six of their officers dead and their supplies stolen. The Drayens are not going to be happy, nor are they going to offer any more aid to the poor unless we deal with them. We’re on our own here, and those people weren’t local gangsters. Too many of them and far too trained. No, they are probably leftover forces from the attempted coup…” He mused. “And it means someone is sheltering them here in these ruins, if they’ve managed to avoid detection this long. Looks like we have a bit of investigating to do.”

 

[Orbis]

That was a bit more activity than expected. Wasn't this supposed to be a quick, easy supply run? Who'd even attack a Jedi, let alone two? Something's not right here...

She took a seat when offered. She'd taken some minor cuts from some of the fragments and shrapnel, but these were hardly even injuries, not even glancing wounds so much as minor scrapes and bruises. No blaster hits, fortunately, though deflecting and dodging the fire she had was quite exhausting and draining on her. She wasn't used to being under so much fire all at once, and it'd taken her by surprise.

"And here I thought daggers would be sufficient for any of my defencive needs," she takes a drink from the pouch. This event had shown her that she did need to improve her skills with the saber, as much as she didn't like it, and she considered for a moment if her previous focus on Form IV was a mistake. She'd thought it'd take advantage of her natural flexibility, and thus be the most effective style for combat, but now, she was questioning if it was worth it. Any time she's in an offensive scenario, if she could be using a lightsaber, she'd much prefer to use daggers and the Force. She wasn't a fan of getting up close and personal, anyway. And so, she wondered if a defencive focus would've indeed been the better choice. Mak was probably right, she concluded. Daggers can't deflect blaster bolts. She gritted her teeth together, not particularly pleased with this conclusion.

Guess I'll be practising Soresu when we get back. A good defence may be a better policy than a strong offence, after all. Offence is evidently quite limited, whereas defence is quite universal.

"I'm thinking so, too. No one'd attack a pair of Jedi out of nowhere, let alone in such great numbers. This had to have been premeditated." She pauses for a bit, thinking of what to do next. "Maybe some local patrons at a pub would be able to tell us more? Perhaps one of them let word slip in a drunken stupor, and I'd imagine it'd be easier to get a drunk man to talk than a sober one, anyway. We need to get to the bottom of this, I think, not just get the supplies back. Something's awfully suspect about this whole ordeal, don't you think?"

 

[Dawyn]

Maksem gave Yva a nod, smiling as he did so. “Good, you’re learning quickly. Pubs and bars are often a great source of information, so long as you don’t get into a fight, too quickly anyway. And there’s the added bonus that you get to drink and have the Army pay for it too. Official business and the like.” He rose from the bench and began to head toward one of the establishments in the distance, named The Swift Fox. “It’s also a good place to get an idea of what the common person thinks. We’ll see if those who attacked us have public support. If they do, that’ll make things a lot more tricky.”

Just before they answered the bar, he took another look at Yva, then coughed, taking off his ragtag cloak and handing it to her, so that he just had his armor on.

“Put this on and wrap it around yourself. Your looks do you credit, but in bars such as these, it’s best not to flaunt them. Not everyone takes rejection well.”

He hoped that did not come off as either too paternalistic or creepy, because he did not intend it to be. The simple fact of the matter was his Padawan was rather attractive for her age, and he did not put it past a few young bucks to try their chances with her. And they could get rather aggressive.

After making sure she had put on the cloak, he nodded and stepped into the bar, speaking to her under his breath.

“We’ll split up. You sit over at the bar, and I’ll see about playing a few games of Pazaak. Gamblers like to boast about who they know and who they have won from, and that could be useful. Drink if you want, but I need you lucid when we leave. Sorry your first bar experience had to be business rather than pleasure, but hey, at least neither of us will have to pick up the tab.”


With a wink towards his Padawan, he moved to the nearest Pazaak table. Hopefully they could do everything here nice and smoothly, he needed a break after all that exertion.

 

[Orbis]

"I'd be lying if I said getting a drink wasn't a consideration with the choice. I learn from the best drunkard in the galaxy, after all!" Yva grinned and covered up with the cloak, being sure to keep her lightsaber hidden. She'd found the statement a bit odd, but she knew Mak had the best of intentions, and thus, didn't think too much of it. Entering the pub, she headed over to the bar and orders a drink.

Being served her drink, she took a sip and asks those around her about the Drayens, gathering a variety of opinions. Most common would seem to be one of dismay, however, with people disillusioned with their government and the way the nation is being led in light of recent tragedies. However, she also finds that there are nonetheless those who are content with the way things are, and supporters of the current regime, not knowing anything else, and she found these ones in particular to be the most unfortunate of the bunch.

As she conducted her interrogation, she took note of a young man - little more than a boy - shooting glances at her from across the pub. Not thinking much of it, she'd continued along her business, but now, the man was approaching her. She didn't know what to think of this. It was odd behaviour, to be sure, and she wasn't sure if she should take it as a threat or not. Her concern proved to be misplaced, however, when he started chatting with her. He was definitely drunk, she harboured no doubts about that, and after a short garble of drunken murmurs, the boy leaned in towards her, causing her to have to lean back, uncomfortable. He was close - too close - and she didn't like it. It felt compromising, and she responded by pushing the drunk away from her. The boy, seemingly angered by this move, looked at her with malice in his eyes. As Yva stares him down, however, he eventually backs off.

This wasn't to be the last of such encounters with patrons of this particular establishment during her investigation, the cloak evidently not quite enough to take attention off her entirely, but Yva was able to fend them all off well enough to go about her business, finding more than a few citizens who not only opposed the government, but supported the coup, and listening to their reasoning, she could hardly blame them. They did indeed seem to have valid complaints and concerns, and she could definitely see their side of the argument.

As her investigation progressed further and further herself sympathising with the disgruntled, disenfranchised citizens suffering at the hands of their oppressors more and more, even beginning to feel this coup may even be necessary for the common good. She felt that the Jedi might be supporting the wrong side, propping up tyrants and causing the people suffer, possibly on accident and through being misled by the Drayens, or perhaps on purpose, fully aware of what they were doing yet so desperate for an ally as to turn a blind eye to the suffering these people were enduring. She felt more uneasy now, unsure if what she was doing was right or wrong, or what the right course of action was.

Taking another sip to clear her mind, she shifted her focus back onto the matter at hand; their escorts were gunned down in the streets and the supplies were stolen, and had those responsible gotten what they wanted, she had no doubt Mak and she would be lying out in the street with the escorts. Whether the rebels were righteous or not, those responsible had stolen supplies intended for the aid of all people, and they had to find them and get them back. They were definitely not their friends. And so, she knocked back the rest of her drink and continued with her search.

 

[Dawyn]

Force damn it…

Maksem thought as he lost yet another game of Pazaak. Leadership was not going to be happy with his losing 1,200 credits in under an hour. He really needed to get his own, customized deck. The generic ones he had gotten at the spaceport for fifteen credits were a set he was never, ever playing again.

“Not having a good day today, stranger.” The elderly man across the table from him smirked. If it had been a younger person, he might have fantasized about smacking him across the face, but the man was basically, if not in fact, a grandfather.

“I think I need to up my game…” Maksem responded sheepishly as he took quite a long swig of whiskey “but I hope that new windfall of yours does you good. Let’s just say my wife is not going to be pleased.”

“That her over there? Cute, young, and even with that cloak, has a great rump.” He gestured toward Yva, who looked at a drunken young boy approaching her as if he was some kind of particularly atrocious insect. Good for her, no decent woman responded to a drunken man....wait...what does that make me….err, completely drunken man.

“Ah, no, no. She’s my cousin. Sister had enough of her questioning her at every possible opportunity, decided she needed someone to watch over her who has a good heart but a less strict temperament.” He managed to reply, hopefully somewhat convincingly. He hoped Yva hadn't heard the rump comment.

“Mhmm…” The old man replied, giving him a questioning look before continuing. “Best get her out of here soon, I’m planning to with my grandkids myself. Things are gonna get ugly here again.”

“Ugly?” Maksem sputtered, not prepared for the other’s sudden serious turn, then keeping his voice low.

“Aye, ugly,” the old man said, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m only telling you because you have that young girl, and made me a bit richer today without being a bad sport about it. Things around here been unsettled, bad. I’ve lived through my share of struggles between the Drayens and the common people, sometimes it’d be riots, but this...this ain’t like anything I ever seen. Man I play Pazaak with, Mazikiel, he’s an offworlder like you, rough kind of fellow, but damn good at cards. Spotted him with a blaster earlier, not the civvie kind either, the other day, down near the Burned District. Tailed him a bit as best I could, he met up with a buncha others like that, moving towards here. I don’t know what he intended to do, can’t be up to any good in that kind of number, mercenary type and all. Things might become as bad around here as they did on the day of the coup.”

The man paused for a moment, finishing his drink.

“Not sure how long you intend to stay here friend, but I’m leaving later today. Spite of what ye might here, this ain’t a regular people’s revolution. This has some aristocratic stuff to it, with those mercs, and when aristocrats fight, they use the common people and our feelings worse than the two of us use cards and if any get in the way, they’re just collateral damage.”

Maksem gave him a long, firm look then a nod. He understood how that was, all too well.

“Thank you…?”

“Yeltin. Yeltin Roselin.” The old man shook his hand. Maksem returned it.

If only I had some wise fellow like him when I was growing up.

“Thank you Yeltin, we’ll be careful.”

“I hope you do young’un, for your sake and the sake of your ‘cousin’.”

With that, Yeltin collected his winnings and took his prize, exiting the door of the Saloon. Standing up, he motioned for Yva to come over, and when she did, he looked at her expectantly.

“So, how do the people feel about our 'allies'?"

 

[Orbis]

"The people here aren't particularly fond of them, it'd seem. And I've gotta admit, they've got a bit of a point. They seem to be suffering greatly under the Drayans' boot, and rebel sentiment does not seem entirely lost on them. Besides, the alcohol here's atrocious!"

"So, how were things on your end? We rich yet? Do I have to call you Pazaak Master now?" Yva smirks mischievously and crosses her arms. "Not so sure I like this place, to be honest. I'm getting strange glances at my behind, I keep catching it out of the corner of my eye when people think I'm not looking, and it's making me feel slightly uncomfortable. I don't know if any of them are spies or not, but many of the patrons kept shooting the man in the corner nervous glances as they spoke to me. The one with the unkempt beard. He refused to speak to me when I tried approaching him, though. I'm not quite sure what to make of him, but he was certainly suspicious."

Sagging her shoulders a bit, she lets out a long sigh. "I hate to admit it, but I didn't actually get any solid leads." Shooting a quick glance toward the man in the corner of the room, she was met with an empty booth, a half-empty glass of moonshine sitting on the table where had once been perched vigilantly. When had he left? It must have been while she was talking to Maksem, but how had he escaped her notice? She'd thought she had been careful in keeping tabs on him. Yet it seemed, as she scanned the pub with renewed haste, that he had somehow slipped through the cracks, and was nowhere to be found within the establishment.

Blast it! Why did I let him out of my sight for even a second, and let him get away?

"It'd seem our mystery man has left the premises now, in any case, and in a hurry! Didn't even have the courtesy to finish his drink first."

 

[Dawyn]

Maksem listened to Yva’s report, giving the occasional nod-it confirmed what he had picked up from Yeltin to a large degree. People were not especially happy with the Drayens, and he could understand that. After all, he had grown up in the shadow of wealthy aristocrats who only cared about him when it came time to pay taxes, fight a war, or win an election. But, for all their flak and arrogance, they were not especially bad for authoritarian rulers. Self-centered and self-interested, sure, but not overtly cruel. But that level of discontent seldom erupted into something more, something as deadly as this coup. Not without outside interference.


“It’s fine-I think I know where he is headed, and who he is going to report to. As for the Pazaak…” Maksem coughed “Uh, let’s just say to Vosrik that we needed...additional resources in light of the unexpected difficulties we encountered.” He gave her a very wan smile before continuing, “And remind me never to play against loving grandpas ever again.”


Pausing for a moment, getting a glass of whiskey from the bar owner, he replied. “And, yes, unfortunately, in the Jedi’s line of work, you’ll end up in a lot of places like these. Although, I only rarely had people looking at my backside.” He gave her a slight wink. “One day you’ll find some fellow or lady who you won’t mind taking a look down there, and more, and it will be much less weird and much more fun.”


He took another long sip, then spoke again.


“And don’t take the failure too hard, learn from it. No Jedi is perfect, nor is the Army itself. If anything, I wished more people in the Army failed, there’s more than enough arrogance to go around.”


Putting the whiskey glass back on the bar and leaving a credit chip, he gave a nod towards the door.


“We have an appointment at the Burned District, I’ll fill you in on the way. But basically, as I see it, we have two problems. We have to deal with mercenaries, but at the same time also expose their leader as a pawn of the opposition, not a man of the people.”


With that, both master and apprentice left to go to the section of the city most heavily ruined during the coup, with almost every building caved in and scorched by blasterfire. Maksem imagined this is what Ithor must look like now that the Sith had their way with it.

Damn animals, if this is what our enemy is doing to do to those peaceful, almost hippie-like Ithorians.

 

[Orbis]

"While you're at it, I need additional resources to clean my scarf and robes," Yva jests with a wide grin, taking the cloak off and handing it back to Maksem even as they hurry through the city. She listened to him as he explained the situation, and nodded her head understandingly. She understood the stakes, and was now even more disappointed with herself for letting the evident spy slip out and get away. She should've been more on alert, and paid closer attention, but she allowed him to get away, and now, the rebels probably knew they were coming, and preparing for them.

As they neared their destination, Yvannia noticed the scenery becoming gradually more and more burnt and devastated and then, at last, the world around them was nothing but the burnt-out buildings and ruined, scorched streets they had seen from a distance when first arriving, stretching all around them as a monument to the sorrows of war, and of the struggle against the ruling class. Seeing it this close up, Yva was shocked. As valid the complaints of the people may have been, this scene, this level of destruction and destroyed lives, was surely too much.

"I feel like we just walked into a tomb. So much ruin, sorrow, and lost livelihoods here." She eyed a small burnt-down store as they passed.

Who could've done something like this? Who would do this to their own people? Was it the rulers, or the rebels? Did everyone make it out? Are we too late to help, merely foreign forces reacting to atrocities that have already reached their peak?

She spotted people moving around in the burnt buildings, though couldn't get a close look. She had a feeling they were being watched, observed even. That they were walking into something big, and this time, she wasn't sure they'd make it out quite so easily. She steeled herself for what was certain to come.