All Titans Fall

[Jiang Winters]

[ooc: This is open to JEDI and GA personnel only. Thanks! ^^
Please see THIS THREAD for relevant information.]

All Titans Fall.

Every light dies.

Every life fades away.

For every beginning, there exists an end.

For every end, there exists a beginning.

For Delun, that end was now.
​

His jaw clenched as the pain spread through his wounded side. An inferno was consuming his body from the inside out, and a dull, terrible pressure was building in his chest. He'd never known such suffering before. It was blinding, crippling, even lethal; perhaps the worst of it was just how little he could do to stop it. He knew what was hurting him. He'd known it was coming for days now. It was his body's power system. Specifically, the damaged cells on the right side of his ribcage. They'd been beaten up but good in a close encounter with a mech over a week ago, and he'd been unable to repair the damage. He knew that they'd fail eventually, but he'd never expected a catastrophic failure. Not so soon.

The feline pressed on. He placed one foot forward, carrying himself towards his goal one slow, agonizing step at a time. Every motion caused the burning hot cells inside his splintering ribs to wiggle about, causing little bits of shrapnel to tear into his flesh. He could scarcely breath, and every thump of his synthetic heart caused the pain to grow that much worse. His time was out. He was dying.

Delun's ears lowered as cold reality finally hit. He was dying. He had minutes to live. His plans weren't even fully prepared - he'd been in such a rush to get to the temple on Tython that he'd only made the most basic of preparations! He cursed and he swore and he wept with fear. He was dying, and he was afraid.

He pushed his way out of the Temple, half-staggering and half-limping the whole way out. His ship. Faith. She held the key. She could buy him the time he needed. It was a long shot and he knew it, but he'd take whatever he could get. "Dex, I need you to do exactly as I say. Tell Defiant - the other one - to get that cryopod to the ship's stern cargo bay. And grab the box under the pilot's seat while he's at it - the steel one with the angel moon stampings."

The AI replied with a simple chirp - good enough for Delun. At least he had a little hope now. If Defiant could pick up some of the basic work, it'd make things that much easier on Del. It'd give him a little breathing room to think in. He had at least a week's worth of labor to do inside a thirty-minute window, and he had no idea how he was going to get it all done. It'd be a miracle if he could do it. Nothing more, nothing less. As it was, it'd be a miracle if he could simply make it to his ship.

He made it out of the temple and headed 'cross the grounds, towards the dock he'd been instructed to land in. He felt like falling to his hands and knees and crawling by the time he arrived - were it not for his power armor, he'd have toppled long ago.

Faith was perched up atop her launch pad just as he'd left her. The stern cargo bay doors were slid open, and a white cryopod was resting at the end. A small box was perched atop the pod, and at the end stood Defiant. It simply nodded, then nudged the cryopod down the ramp. It lazily floated down, suspended by its repulsorlift systems, and Del caught its edge with an open palm. No words were exchanged - Del was far too weak to even thank Defiant for his help, and the hardsuit was intelligent enough to understand the gravity of the situation.

Del pried open the service panel on the pod's face. His armor automatically extended a data probe, which he plugged into the pod's control systems, concealed beneath the paneling. A virtual keyboard appeared in his HUD, and he rapidly tapped out a string of commands. At least, as rapidly as he could bear to move - the pressure and heat was building, and the pain was so intense that Del was beginning to feel very lightheaded. It was growing harder and harder to concentrate, but he wasn't done yet. He couldn't give in 'till his work was done, and there was still much to do.

He activated the pod's automatic resuscitation system. It began to hiss and groan, and an amber glow emanated from behind the frosty viewport built into the pod's face. Vital signs began to pop to life in Delun's HUD, and he sighed a breath of relief. He knew he needed to run a full day's worth of examinations and checks on the pod's cargo, but there was no time. It'd have to work. There was no alternative but success.

The armor-clad feline began to push the pod towards the temple's main entrance. The Jedi were not his first choice for help - he'd planned on leaving for Coruscant to conscript help for his little plan, but seeing as his body had thrown a hefty cogwrench into his ideas, he had no choice. The Jedi would have to help, or he'd perish. It was that simple.

Numbness began to spread through his limbs as he drew closer to the temple gates. His vision flickered, his synthetic eyes cutting out here and there. His heart lurched into his throat - was he that close to the end? Had he come so far only to die on the steps to salvation? He couldn't accept that - he wouldn't accept that. There was too much left to do, too much unfinished business to bring to a close. He needed to live. He had to live. He wanted to live.

The guards at the door slowed him briefly, but as he'd been called in - and seen in - by the Grandmaster himself, they saw fit to let him in with his cargo. Of course, they scanned it to make sure it was safe, and though they found the contents a bit odd there was nothing hazardous. He was admitted once more, and he made his way inside.

He knew he needed a Sage or a Healer. A powerful one at that. Someone skilled in working with more than just flesh and bone. But he didn't know where to find it. He cursed himself - in hindsight, he should've dragged a co-worker with him. They'd have known where to go. They'd have known what to do. His independent streak, his desire to do everything for himself, may well have proven to be his undoing.

Del came 'round a corner, then another, and another; he didn't even know where he was going anymore, and he realized the last minute was just a blur. His heart sank. "No," he muttered, "No no no! It's not time yet, I just need a few more minutes, it's not my time yet! Please, gods, just a few more minutes. That's all I need, that's all I need!"

Fear struck hard and fast. He was losing his fight, and he knew it. He felt his limbs moving more and more sluggishly, and his world was steadily darkening. A set of doors - he had to try it. He pushed his way through, and came out into a broad courtyard. One he recognized only too well.

He'd made his first visit to Tython in that very courtyard - he'd crashed into a gazebo in his armor. He could see the new one, the one he'd built by hand, standing proudly off at the courtyard's back wall. The willow tree at the center still stood tall and proud, gently encircled by a flagstone path. An artificial creek wound its way 'round the willow, bubbling and gurgling quietly. It was a lovely, peaceful place - and it was the exact opposite of what he needed.

Cursing, Del made ready to turn himself around.

That's when it hit. That's when the bell's began to toll, when his road came to a sudden and abrupt end.

His body's final primary power cell, embedded in a rib on the right side of his chest, was through. It was done in; overloaded and overworked, the cell simply couldn't handle the strain anymore. It had been overheating and swelling for nearly fifteen minutes now, and it was at its end. Del gasped for breath as it put unbearable pressure on his innards, and in desperation he began clawing off his armor, dropping it chunk by chunk all 'round him until he was down to the pants and shirt he'd worn beneath it.

It didn't help. He put a hand to his flank, and could feel the heat rolling off his chest. The cell was cooking him from the inside out. It was as if his body was on fire, and he could do nothing to extinguish the flame.

And then it burst. Suddenly and with terrible violence, it burst. It was as if a tiny grenade had gone off within his chest. A soft 'pop' as it went, a burst of red mist out his side, and a scream of agony that caught in his throat and refused to escape. His hand trembled as he clung to his wounded flank; he could feel a spongy, bleeding mass of what equated to hamburger where the cell had been. He bled black - the liquid from his torso's synthetic muscle was draining out with his own blood, and sable and crimson together trickled down his side.

Power drained away from his limbs; he keeled over, falling up against the cryopod he'd hauled in. The light in his eyes faded and his world went dark, but the pain was still there. The agony was still burning in his chest. He was alive, his heart still beating softly in his chest. A reserve power source - he should've known. He couldn't tell how long it'd hold, but he was alive. He could scarcely move, his limbs were so weak, but he was alive. He was blind and alone and afraid, but alive. There was still that little bit of hope.

He reached out, blindly groping for his helmet. Dirt and stone shifted beneath his heavy, clumsy digits, 'till they finally brushed metal and lining. His helm. His fingers curled around the collar and he pulled it close, his free hand frantically clawing at its interior 'till his claws found purchase on the integrated comms unit. He tugged it free, and felt over it. There was a special switch he'd built into it - an emergency transponder. It was meant for Dex's use, so that the AI could find him in an emergency. In this case, it was a call for help - a dying man's call for a savior.

It slipped from his trembling fingers just as soon as he'd activated it. Beeping softly, it clattered to the ground and slid away from him. He simply laid still, fingers crossed and praying silently for aid. The Jedi would feel his fear in the Force, their Security forces would pick up the locator beacon in short order, and there was no doubt Dex would discern that something was very, very wrong. But as for who would find him first, he simply didn't know. He could only lay there weakly, hoping for the best but quietly preparing for the worst.

 

[Cassanova]

Sitting in the calm of her room, Juno Armstrong was deep inside a meditation. She bad begun to properly apply the skills from Master al'Thor, and some of the ones she had picked up from a brief encounter with Master Baatch. Her vibrant blue eyes were hidden away behind soft eyelids, barely moving. If you weren't looking too closely, you would probably come to the assumption that Juno was barely moving at all. A common misnomer was that Jedi ceased to breathe when deep in meditation, while this can occur, it takes a great deal of skill to properly achieve such a deep state of meditation -- an amount of skill that Juno had yet to achieve.

Sticking with her usual attire in the Jedi temple, her blue tabards tightly held to her body by her waist belt, her hands wrapped in a delicately dyed blue cloth, and her black hair cascading, unhindered with the exception of some red beads that had been put in the night before. Juno's legs were tucked underneath her as she kneeled upon the soft carpet, her hands resting gently on her quads. Her meditation, on this particular day was to recover her mind from the turmoil of the bane of all women: Men.

Over the last few weeks, Juno had begun to develop serious feelings for a Sergeant in the Alliance Army. Now, relationships were not frowned upon, if anything they were encouraged, however Juno was simply concerning herself with things involving her work, his work, and the risks involved. Typical hesitation, and nothing to truly fret over. Nonetheless, she found herself seeking solace and comfort within the force's embrace. Before long, she understood the depth of her emotions, the reasoning behind them, and why they were troubling her so. The details aren't relevant, but she was at peace with herself in that moment.

Of course, until a sudden awareness began to trickle in to the corner of Juno's mind - almost an itch behind her eye. After focusing her efforts upon this new found influence, Juno eventually identified it as a person's fear. An emotion she had a great deal of experience with, to be sure. However, as she began to grasp a firmer understanding of the fear, she watched as it evolved into something worse; pain.

Juno's eyes snapped open, and took a moment to adjust to the fluorescents in her room. She rubbed her eyes momentarily, and stood up, using the desk as leverage. A woozy light-headedness quickly hit her, which she combated with a long drink from a water bottle. After politely wiping her mouth, Juno exited her room, and began to walk the halls of the Tython temple, her head cocked, as if hearing for the slightest noise in the corner of the ceilings.

 

[Jiang Winters]

How long had it been since darkness fell? Thirty seconds? A minute? Five? Ten? More?

Delun couldn't tell. Ordinarily, that'd have worried him - he had a good sense of time, and when things began to blur together for him, that was generally a good sign that things were going very wrong. The pain had eased somewhat, too. That wasn't a good sign.

He coughed, and could taste blood in his mouth. A bit of crimson trickled from the corner of his lips, staining the white fur lining his muzzle. That, most certainly, was not a good sign. The feline imagined that a shard of bone, or perhaps a scrap of power cell, had cut into his lung. Or maybe the concussive force of the blast had just caused internal bleeding - he could still breath easily enough, so it was likely just internal bleeding.

Del wanted to laugh at himself. 'Just internal bleeding' - he was relieved that he had a condition that was marginally less fatal than a punctured lung. He shook his head, and coughed up a bit more blood. He could feel the cryopod at his back. He reached back, and gently patted the pod. "All that work," he muttered, smiling weakly, "For nothin', huh? Best laid plans and good intent... All for nothing. Just because one thing went wrong. Murphy's law really is a bitch."

He had to admit, it was sort of funny. Albeit in a horribly dark, depressing sort of way. At the same time, it was incredibly frustrating. He wanted to live. As cliche as it was, he wanted to keep going on. The feline's ears pinned back against his skull and he let out a quiet sigh. "Maybe I should've brought a flare gun, too. No way they'd miss an emergency beacon and a flare. I dunno. Maybe it really is the end."

 

[Fyston]

"You will note in his chart that his condition has improved drastically since the addition of the Force into his healing process. With the war, we don't have enough healers to make it standard practice, but with the Force anything is possible." The Knight passed the datapad to the closest member of the group, a Zabrak boy around 15. They were all Padawans and were interested in a tour of the Healing Halls, though a few had nothing better to do while their masters were away on missions. Including Fyston, the group was eight strong, though only Fyston was wearing a white coat.

To be frank, he was exhausted. He'd spent two days in the Temple Server room and still had to cover his rotations, which, while voluntary, were something Fyston did regularly. You could tell that the Knight was fatigued due only to the look on his face and the way that his normally confident stance looked weary and worn. Even the Padawans had noticed it, though they had yet to say anything. Perhaps they were familiar with such exhaustion. Perhaps they knew that, one day, they would be Knights and would be feeling how he was. It didn't matter, though, as they had things to do.

"Master Sutsgy, what type of equipment do you use here," asked a Twi'lek girl who was closer to childhood than womanhood. "We use everything from bacta and the physical portions of healing, equipment that every medical facility would have, to natural crystals that have been imbued with the Force to help Jedi Healers with various situations. Everything is tightly monitored to ensure that we have whatever we need when it comes time to help."

As if on cue, his comlink buzzed and the security feed came through the small device's speaker. It was limited information, that much was certain, but security cams had caught someone fainting in one of the gardens and they had yet to recover. The Padawans responded by looking around at each other, though Fyston was already on the move. He grabbed a medkit from the nearby stock room and brought the map of the Temple to his mind, looking for the shortest way to the indicated garden. It had been three minutes since security first noted the fact that someone had collapsed, though Fyston knew that if someone had been attacked then the entire Temple would have been alerted immediately. Still, he thought, it's a stupid chance to take.

It was two minutes later that a group of Padawans led by Fyston burst into the garden, though the Padawans stopped at the sight of the large man and the armor that surrounded him. It hit him like a ton of bricks that he'd seen the man but hours before, and had helped him handle his pain. It was Delun. He slid to the man's side, clothes staining instantly with the mixture of blood that poured from him. "Fierfek," Fyston muttered as he examined the wound.

"You, take his vitals," he commanded at the foremost Padawan, the Zabrak boy from earlier, while he opened up the medkit. He grabbed the sonic scalpel and began cutting away where the ruined tissue connected to the rest of his flesh, seeking to see what had happened. The first thing that Fyston had noticed, however, was the presence of sharp metallic shards. He didn't know Delun well, but he knew that the wound was serious. He pulled open the large man's eyes and looked into them, using Tython's sun as a penlight. "Nothing. Cybernetics, I dislike you right now," he finished with a groan, noting Delun's synthetic eyes that were radically different from the eyes of most species.

In response, the Zabrak stuttered and stammered, hands moving in staccato with his voice, which was breaking from the stress. In response, the Knight simply grabbed the medisensor and scanned Delun. "I'm going to need a repulsor gurney and tell them that he's critical." Delun's breath sounds were stable, though Fyston would have liked to see them higher. His blood pressure was low, a result of the blood leaking from him. He even had one of the Padawans check Delun's capillary refill, which was nearly twice the normal rate.

While he had been analyzing Delun's vitals, however, the Knight wasn't simply sitting there. He was putting pressure on Delun's very large, open wound, though had to stop just long enough to load the hypospray with O negative and transfuse a single container of it.
Fyston held pressure on Delun's wound and looked into his face, both to check that he was still alive and to reassure him. "You're in good hands. Stay with me, alright?"

 

[Cassanova]

Juno cautiously walked the halls, her head still tilted to one side as she tried tracking the source of these emotions. Her questions were seemingly given an answer in neon lights as a group of Jedi burst from the medical wing and burst into a sprint. Knowing that coincidences simply did not exist, Juno broke into a jog after them.

Clearly, between the feelings that were echoing through the force, or the ruckus caused by a dozen people sprinting the halls, people's attention was being grasped, as heads poked out from rooms. Juno kept pace with them, and her attention was fixated upon the medical students, and not on the people who actually emerged from their rooms. A Jedi of middle-age emerged from his room, arm supporting his weight as he hung from his room, as though on a tram. Juno noticed him all too late, as she stumbled into him, nearly knocking both of them to the floor.

She reasserted her balance and rested an apologetic hand on the man's shoulder, "Sorry..." she smirked as she recognised him, "... Crinlin."
Juno took a moment, and looked over her shoulder to the Medical students who were vanishing down the hallway to the left. Not missing a beat, she grabbed Crinlin by his shirt and began dragging him down the hall, "Let's go!"

 

[MoreThanSane]

What the kriff is going on? Crinlin wondered as Juno Armstrong practically dragged him down the Temple hall. Only moments earlier he'd sensed a commotion, followed shortly by the sounds of hurried footsteps, followed by a surprisingly rough impact as the young woman had bowled into him. His foggy brain struggled to understand the implications.

Completely out of his element, running in full view of dozens of eyes wearing nothing but his undershirt and trousers, Crinlin shivered. He should not be seen so disheveled. It was humiliating. But he followed Juno and the other Jedi anyway, now curious as to what had brought them to dash so frantically. Moments later he found the answer.

He wished he hadn't.

A Knight he'd never met was knelt on the ground, giving attention to what looked like some sort of feline alien lying in the center of a ring of gore. Crinlin stopped several meters from the site, tired mind wondering what he could do to help, yet present enough to advise him to stay out of the way. These Jedi were trained in first aid. He was not. It was simple math.

 

[Jiang Winters]

Delun began to feel very sleepy - very sleepy indeed.

It was the blood loss. It had to be. It was becoming hard to think, and he was growing cold. Del let his eyes close - not that the powerless cybernetics were of much use to him - and he tried to get comfortable. It wasn't easy, not with the heavy cryopod nestled up at his back. He reached back and grasped what he thought was the drag handle on the pod's edge, and worked his fingers into it. He used it to pull himself up into a more traditional seated position, with his back more firmly against the pod.

He could have swore that he felt the handle shift dramatically under his weight, but he wasn't sure. He was too tired to care. Silence fell for a few moments and time drifted by - the dark simply consumed him, and for a brief moment, he no longer felt pain or fear.

That ended when he felt warmth against his face. He stirred, and whimpered softly as the pain in his side returned in full force. He could feel his eyelids being manipulated, and could've swore that he heard a voice. He tried to open his muzzle to speak, but no words came - he couldn't even manage a quiet whimper. But he was alive, that much was certain.

Time continued to blur by. Delun was distantly aware of one or more people working to save him. He felt someone raise his upper lip and apply pressure to his gums - a capillary refill test. For felines like himself, the gums were one of the best places to test such a thing, and given his extensive cyberization it was likely the best place to test it. An ear flicked as a medical scanner was used; he half-wondered what the scanner would find. Maybe it'd pick up the energy blades concealed in his forearms, or maybe it'd detect the metal alloys and powerful synthetic muscles woven throughout his entire body. Perhaps it'd detect that his heart was wholly synthetic, and maybe it'd even pick out the damage to his power supplies - all primary cells depleted or destroyed, and a tiny emergency battery working to keep his heart and neural augments working.

The damage was old, and extensive enough to make anyone with the slightest knowledge of cybernetics cringe in horror. Had Del been responsible, he'd have sought extensive repairs and surgery before coming to Tython - though on the other side of the coin, his body made use of rare and expensive proprietary components that made getting such repairs an exercise in futility.

He felt pressure on his injured flank, and he growled lowly in protest. It hurt - it hurt a lot. A hypo hissed, and then there was a voice. He knew that voice. He'd worked with the man before, in the Temple's server room.

Fyston.

"I'm not going anywhere, don't worry," he muttered, a hint of humor hiding in the dying titan's voice. Pain flared through his side again and he grimaced. "I guess," he hissed through clenched teeth, "I should've have pushed myself. Should've seen this coming."

He was oblivious to the gently beeping cryopod behind him. Unbeknownst to the tiger, the lever he'd mistakenly grabbed as a handhold was no mere handle - it was a form of emergency release. A failsafe meant to hurriedly release a cryopod's occupant in the event that power failure or pod destruction was imminent. A failsafe whose control level Del had broken loose and activated.

The frost-covered viewport on the pod's top glowed gently, courtesy of bright blue-green light originating from within the pod. Were it to be wiped down, it might just reveal its contents! A small panel on the lid flipped open, and the screen behind the panel began displaying long strings of text and graphs meant to relay vital information about the occupant - one important bit of information was a bright red triangle with an exclamation mark inside, below which was written 'HAZARDOUS CONTENTS - OPEN IN LEVEL WHITE SECURITY'.

Del, being quite oblivious to the pod's activation, didn't think to mention its contents to Fyston and the others surrounding him. He merely sat there and smiled thinly, commenting quietly on his situation. "I thought I had more time than this. Just one more day and I'd have been fine. Just one more day - guess fate decided that it just couldn't let my plans come to fruition. But I guess - I guess that's just the way the cards fa-" He cut himself off mid-sentence, trying to hold back a cough that left the taste of blood in his muzzle. Blood and bitter-tasting fluid from his synthetic muscle - he wanted to wretch, but was too weak to do so.

 

[Cassanova]

This scene was all a matter of perspective. For Fyston, it was no doubt about recalling procedures, recognising certain signs, problem solving and the basic desire to save this feline's life. For Del, who lay there spilling his life force between the cracks in the courtyard, Juno could only guess what this was about. What had brought him here, to the Tython Jedi Temple, when he was in such a state. What was so important that took precedence over his own life?

The scene was quiet in Juno's mind. The bustle of Fyston and his team working frantically away at Del to stop the bleeding, to stabilise him was completely absent from the way Juno would recollect this moment. Everything was moving in this place, the wind was blowing the leaves, people were running around, throwing supplies and syringes, Crinlin looked to be having an internal debate over what he could do - his feet seemed to be shuffling to and fro as his mind debated his usefulness. Juno, however, seemed to be the only person, thing, or being completely still in this scene.

Inexplicably, Juno's attention was being tugged, pulled away from Del and what some would realise would be his messy end, and forced her focus outside of that line of sight. Her eyes skimmed past the cryopod, as she searched for what the Force was beckoning her attention to. As though the force was becoming frustrated with her failure to notice, the tug was sharper, and in the opposite direction. As her focus came to bear upon the cryo pod once more, her vision normalised, the panicked sounds returned to her ears, and Juno shook herself to reality.

As her focus became solely rested upon the pod, Juno's head instinctively tilted to the side, and she found her feet drawing her towards it. By this stage, she had noticed the dull ebb and glow of the pod, and the beep it was emitting. Juno raised a hand to the pod, resting it on the base, not quite at the condensation-covered glass. She turned to Fyston and Crinlin, and with a puzzled look upon her face, "I don't get it... why here?"

 

[Jiang Winters]

It was cold in the pod.

Bitterly cold.

He shuddered as he stirred. His eyes slowly peeled open, and were instantly assaulted by the harsh lights within the container. Stiff, sore and so cold - he felt half-thawed. He didn't remember cryo ever being so cold. Cryofluid still filled the container. He could feel it swirl and splash around the cramped pod with every move he made. It'd worked its way into every crevice - he felt it in his ears, in his mouth, in his throat and lungs. He felt like he was drowning, and he panicked.

Air. He needed air.

He slammed his palms against the cryopod doors. They refused to budge, so he tried again. And again. And again. Finally, on the fourth blow, they gave. The cryopod's hatch folded outwards, hinges having been broken free of the frost holding them fast. He latched onto one edge and hauled himself half-up; the sudden shift of weight caused the pod to tip. An armor-clad feline came tumbling out, followed by a wave of frigid cryofluid and a rifle.

As the pod tipped, so too did Del - sort of. The feline fell back into the gap left by the cryopod's movement, and ended up laying flat on the ground, phasing in and out of consciousness.

The 'other guy', meanwhile, tried to get on his feet. He pushed himself up to his knees and stayed there, doubled over and alternating between puking his guts out and coughing his lungs up. Thick gel drained from his muzzle with every heavy cough, and his sable-and-sienna pelt was soaked through with the stuff. "Oh, gods," he muttered, clutching a hand to his stomach and grimacing. He shifted slightly, and felt his foot bump up against something. He reached back and grabbed it - his rifle. He pulled it close and planted the butt on the ground, then grasped the weapon's foregrip and used it as a sort of cane to push himself up onto his feet.

He drew himself up to his full height - a flat six feet in armor, though it likely added an inch or two to his height. The word 'RUNT' was stenciled in black on the topmost piece of his chestplate, on the section of armor that formed a protective collar for his throat and upper chest.

He took a deep, ragged breath, and ran a paw back through the fur covering the top of his head. His ears perked e'er so slightly as he turned back towards the cryopod, brown eyes searching for who or what had brought him out of cryo. He thought he could smell blood in the air, but with his nostrils coated in fluid, he couldn't quite tell.

Humans - he saw humans. Had they revived him? The feline's guard instantly raised, at least, as much as could be expected of a half-frozen soldier who'd been in cryo for gods-only-knew how long. His ears lowered, but not before he heard a rasping breath from the pod. Rather, from the far side of the pod. He stepped back towards the pod and leaned over, and was met with the sight of a very large feline, not dissimilar to himself, with a horrifying chest wound.

His heart sank into his stomach, while his stomach tied itself all up in knots. His gaze darted from one alien to another, from Fyston to Crinlin to Juno, briefly surveying each one with fearful eyes. He didn't know what'd happened or who they were or even where he was - all he knew was that another of his kind had been violently attacked, and he was positive that he was next on the proverbial menu.

The armor's helmet folded up out from the 'backpack' on its shoulders, while the faceplate rose up from a crevice hidden behind the chestplate. It snapped into place, hiding the feline's features entirely. He turned and bolted as it did so - to where, he didn't know. He saw a door, he'd try that. There was no use fighting, he was too cold to be effective and his rifle was likely too gummed up by fluid to be useful. He had to run - every instinct he had demanded that he get away. He was too scared and too cold to think of anything but running.

If only he'd known that, inside a Jedi Temple, there was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

 

[Cassanova]

Juno watched as Fyston worked on the half-dead feline on the ground, there was something there - more than professional concern. It was personal - they knew each other! As Juno came to the realisation the situation was brought home, while she couldn't confirm it, she was forced to assume that this strange alien was an ally of the Jedi Order. Juno fought her mind to bring it back to the situation as hand, but the force kept her mind well within the reaches, drawing it to various destinations she didn't know the paths to.

Juno's serene focus within the Force's embrace was rattled once the cryopod shifted beneath her hand. Jerking it back towards her, as if just touching a hot stove, Juno shuffled around the pod, in time to hear the thumping from within. As the pod exploded open, Juno took three small steps backwards and to the side, giving the armoured occupant the space he needed. Juno was no expert, but this situation would have scared the hell out of her if she just woke up too - the side effects from the cryopod certainly could not have made this any easier.

Juno saw the look in his eyes as he rose over her head. He couldn't have been that much taller than her, but he was also wearing a massive suit of armour, and if her eyes didn't deceive her, Juno swore that the feline's hair was standing up, making him appear even more intimidating. Juno was about to make a gentle step forwards to the feline when he reached for a rifle, and an armour helmet slammed shut over his face.

Oh shit...​

Juno gave the cryokitty a wide birth as he broke into a run, ensuring he wouldn't be able to, or accidentally barge her over. She did however, tap Crinlin on the shoulder and urge him to follow her as she broke into a jog after the armoured feline. Juno honestly couldn't imagine exactly what was running through her head, but the last thing she wanted was for this to burst out into an all-out firefight. She reached for her commlink and spoke on an open channel, "This is Jedi Armstrong - There is an armoured, armed and confused individual running through the temple. Do not engage - if you are forced to, defensive posturing only."

While she knew that, as a Padawan, she held no power over the rest of the temple, but by now, nearly the entire temple would have been aware that something was going on, and would listen to her. Nonetheless, Juno kept her distance, but always kept the cryo-dazed 'Runt' within her line of sight.

 

[MoreThanSane]

"Oh, what the kriff is this?" Crinlin rolled his head back and gesticulated in weary exasperation. He'd never seen anything the likes of which he was seeing now. The mad thumping from within the odd pod had been his cue to take a few steps back--an act he realized to be most prudent after the thing's door shot outward and an armored being jumped out.

He was finally beginning to awake fully, but the emergence of the--what was it? A cat?--thing from its pod cast serious doubts over his quality of consciousness. Either he was dreaming in excessive detail or hallucinating. At least, that was his first thought. Then he noticed everyone else and their reactions and realized that it was all quite real, for never before had his mind proved capable of constructing scenarios of such depth.

So he watched, completely still, as the armored feline glanced around frantically, its wide eyes displaying obvious confusion and then fear as they roved over the other cat dying on the courtyard floor. The thing turned, a helmet slid out of its armor, its hand found its rifle, and it dashed away. And now I'm obliged to follow it--yup, he thought as Juno motioned for him to trail it with her. Sighing and shaking his head he followed the younger woman as she followed the big cat, keeping at a rather courteous distance.

Crinlin patted himself down, wondering if he'd left something in his night clothes that might be used as a weapon if the situation called. He found a pen, but doubted its value when used against a heavily armored feline with a rifle. Oh well. Hopefully violence wouldn't be called for.

 

[Jiang Winters]

Runt's blind dash carried him along a weaving, zig-zagging course towards the very doors Delun had used to gain entry to the Courtyard. They were still open, albeit slightly; he lowered a shoulder towards the door and kept running right at it. The feline barreled through, but the lack of resistance surprised him and he ended up stumbling. He very nearly fell, and had to place a hand against the ground to shove himself up.

Gravity was low. Humans - he should've remembered that. They seemed to thrive in roughly half the gravity he was used to. Maybe a bit more, maybe a bit less. He didn't know where he was, so he couldn't be certain. He'd have to be more careful, he'd have to remember that nothing'd offer as much resistance as he was used to. He pushed the thought from his mind. There was no time to think - only time to run.

He glanced both ways down the corridor, and was startled to see that the halls were far from empty. Aliens of every shape and size imaginable stopped and stared at him, all clad in robes or tunics or in some similar manner of loose-fitting garb. Not a single soul made an advance on him, which he found strange. He was used to aliens drawing weapons and attacking for no reason - not with them merely standing about as he ran past them.

"Where the hell am I?" he cursed softly. His armor chirped at him as it tried - and failed - to connect to a local network to download navigational data. The suit's proprietary software wasn't going to be able to make a connection with whatever network the locals were using, as the difference in software was simply too great. He frowned, and quirked a brow as he came up on an intersection. "Left, right, forward... Eeny meeny minie moe... Aw, nuts to this."

The cat hooked a sharp left around the corner, bent on continuing his 'escape' to nowhere in particular.

 

[Cassanova]

Questions were yelled after Juno as she followed the feline down the hall. As he was still fully clad in armour, some of the younger initiates squealed with surprise, where other more experienced Jedi offered help, asked what the issue was - just wasn't intending to be rude, but she simple ignored them and kept her pace on the armoured cat. The issue was hardly keeping up as he appeared to be stumbling - straight through a door!

Juno hurried her pace up, as she knew this chase needed to end before the armoured cat either starting barging through people, or started to use his rifle. She increased her speed to a full sprint and her vision trailed as he rounded the corner. Juno purposefully ran wide, and planted her foot upon a bench seat, launching herself high up the wall's face. A few more steps, aided by the force, of course, had her positioned high above the floor, using a light as support. A moment passed as she timed her manoeuvre to perfection.

The young Jedi pushed off from the wall with all her might, aiming directly for nothing, or so it would seem. She did, however take into account that Runt was moving quite quickly now. The calculation in her head paid off, as she wrapped her right arm over his right shoulder and chest, her left swinging underneath his left arm. The combined weight of her body, coupled with the extra push she had given sent the pair hurtling towards the ground. Once the two had settled on the ground, Juno did little to stop Runt from struggling, but she did make a point of planting her foot upon his rifle.

Juno had perfected the art of being gentle, but strong. She had his limbs at an awkward, yet not painful angle, which made it hard for him to get any leverage upon the ground to lift himself up, "Settle down! No ones going to hurt you!" her voice was sincere, but dripping with urgency. "You're in the Jedi Temple of Tython. My name is Juno Armstrong."

 

[Jiang Winters]

So close.

He'd been able to break free and run. He'd been close, so close! Runt could almost taste freedom, but just as soon as hope welled up within him, an inexplicable sinking feeling took over. He felt his stomach tie up in knots, and in that moment he just know that something was about to go wrong for him. He was proven right, too - something hit him. Quite a lot of something, actually. He cried out in surprise as another being's limbs hooked around him, while his assailant's full weight came crashing down on his back. It would be no great surprise to anyone when the cat collapsed beneath Juno.

She'd pinned him mere moments later; he squirmed and tried to push himself back to his feet, but the woman wasn't having any of it. The worst of it was how weak he felt - he was strong, to be sure, even stronger in his armor. But cryo had his muscles burning and aching with the slightest exertion, and Juno was doing an excellent job of denying him any chance to bring his remaining strength to bear.

Runt clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut, fully expecting a stomp to the head from one of her compatriots, or a point-blank blast with a stun weapon. It's what he'd come to expect of the gentler humans.

Perhaps needless to say, he was shocked beyond words when she spoke. So much so that he didn't believe his own ears. His helmet retracted, and he tilted his head 'till he could just see her. He peered intently at her, one soft-furred ear perked attentively. "J'edai?" he repeated, bewilderment in his voice and expression. "You - you're Jedi? But, I thought..." His voice trailed off - that word. 'J'edai'. He knew it from somewhere, but from what?

His ears folded flat against his skull. He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember much of anything, really. He didn't even remember his name - just a set of numbers and a callsign. It'd have to be sufficient, at least for the moment.

"I'm... My name is Kilo One Two. Callsign Runt."

The feline was quiet for a moment, then shifted underneath Juno. He tried to tug his arms free of her grasp, but didn't put much heart into it. He was much too cold and far too weak to waste any strength in a struggle. As it was, his flight from the cryopod had been fueled almost wholly by adrenalin, and he was feeling a bit of a tremble in his hands now that the cold was creeping back in.

"You can let me go," he added in, his gravelly voice softening a bit, "I'm too cold to run anymore, and I don't have it in me to fight."

 

[Fyston]

The biggest issue with Delun was his rapid blood loss, as even transfusions of O negative wouldn't suffice for long. Sure, Fy had pressure dressings and gauze, but when a large portion had been turned into mush, he couldn't do much. Aside from the blood loss, the cryopod laying underneath Delun spiked Fy's attention as it began glowing. Fyston was curious, though knew Delun didn't have the strength to answer questions. Kriff, with his arms in the man's chest working to close off as many veins as he could with the Force, Fyston didn't have the strength needed to ask them. Well, he did, but the two days had rendered him unable to effectively multitask. If he broke his concentration on the major arteries and veins, Delun would bleed out in the courtyard. As it stood, a light glow could be seen from inside the destroyed tissue as Fyston worked diligently, drawing upon the Force for strength.

It wasn't until the pod moved, causing Delun to lie upon the ground, that Fyston became truly concerned. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the words 'Level white security," though his main concern was the contamination of Delun's wounds. There wasn't much he could do, as the tissue was all contaminated anyway and brushing it out would be more difficult than both Fyston and Delun could handle.

Slipping one arm out of Delun's chest cavity, he administered epinephrine to prevent Delun from dying on the spot and cursed for sending a Padawan. Though they were supposed to be responsible, it wasn't unheard of for one to get lost in the Temple. He suddenly had bigger problems, though. There had been a being in the cryopod, one who was now puking and coughing only a very short distance from Delun. While he knew there was no guarantee of a sterile environment, things kept getting worse.

It was when the large, armored being grabbed his rifle that Fyston began sending calming waves of energy at the man, though they would likely have no effect simply because Fyston was A, fatigued, and B, concentrating on keeping Delun alive, a concentration that slipped when he turned his attention to Runt. In response, Delun's bleeding picked up again and Fyston's clothes were stained with the crimson-black liquid that poured like water from the large man.

And so, the Knight turned all of his attention back to his patient even as Runt rushed out of the courtyard. The medical team had to get here soon, lest Delun would die on a planet that, were it not for the Jedi, he would likely have never set foot.

He watched as both Juno and Crinlin rushed out of the courtyard, leaving only the Padawans and himself. Right after he groaned, however, a team of white-robed beings with a repulsor-gurney behind them rushed into the courtyard.

As they got Delun on the gurney, Fyston's hands still in his chest, a Bothan Jedi took over for what Fyston was doing. In response, the Knight rattled off Delun's vitals and the treatments administered, though there wasn't much else he could do. Runt, he thought, remembering that he had left two Padawans to deal with the large being.

Allowing the Force to wash over him, Fyston felt the exhaustion and fatigue fade from his limbs, having revitalized himself. He rushed off after the trio, using the constant comlink chatter to pinpoint where they were at.

He ducked through rooms, used side hallways, and even used service areas as shortcuts to make up time. By the time he had arrived, a number of non-Jedi security personnel had begun arriving, though Fyston waved them all off. Between himself and Juno, as Crinlin looked like he was recovering from something, they could hold him off even if they could not beat him.

"I am Jedi Knight Fyston Sutsgy," he began, bowing to the man who was as tall as he. "I worked on your friend, though my colleagues are working on him now. I have a place we can sit and talk if you would like, and I can have food brought to you as we talk if that would be preferable." The Knight didn't mean an interrogation room or any confinement facility, rather his office in the medical ward. It was big enough to accommodate Runt, Juno, Crinlin, and Fyston, though one would have to stand as Fyston only had three chairs. As the office was fairly closed off, they could speak freely, though that's if Runt wanted to speak at all.

 

[Cassanova]

Juno lifted her foot from the feline's rifle, and moved back and noted how weak he was, and quickly rushed in to help him up. "You don't need to fight anyone, Runt. We're here to help."

She nodded to Fyston as she approached and then turned back to Runt, brushing some of her hair back as she scooped up his rifle and handed it to him, "Your friend who brought you here is in a critical state, by the looks of him. If you're able, we'd like to talk to you about how this situation came to be... And what we can do to help?"

Juno was sincere in her offer. She sincerely felt for Runt, and she simply couldn't comprehend what was rushing through his head. Worse still, she was rushing him to give her information that he simply may not have. The frustration he would have been experiencing must be nearly limitless and Juno wanted to do as much as she could to ease his confusion, discomfort, and set him at ease. She moved underneath the large Kushari and offered him to support his weight upon her. Admittedly, it took all her strength not to collapse beneath him, she did not waver, nor show a sign that he was going to cause her some serious lactic acid buildup.

Juno looked to him, and felt that his arm was shaking. She passed a quick look to Fyston first, then spoke to Runt, "You're freezing. Let's get you out of the armour, and warm, okay?"

 

[Jiang Winters]

"I'm... Okay. I'll be fine. Just need to walk it... Walk it off. I'm okay. I'm okay."

His response to the Fyston's offer of food and a quiet place to talk stank of foolish bravado. He was too stubborn to realize all the trouble he was in, and he was ignoring every red flag his body sent up. Sure, he offered a smile and tried to stand tall, but the Knight didn't need to be a master of Kushari anatomy to realize that it was only a matter of time until Runt collapsed.

Indeed, even Runt could feel his legs shaking under his weight. He stood, true, but very weakly. His rifle very nearly fell from his grasp when it was returned to him. It was all he could do to cling stubbornly to the weapon; now that the adrenaline was leaving his body, he was beginning to realize just how impossibly, dangerously cold he felt. It was hard to think, and harder to move; when he was peppered with questions, the cat's ears just folded back against his head and he shook his head slightly.

"Look, miss..." He paused. Her name - she'd just told him her name. Jade? Jun? Juno - that was it. Juno Armstrong. His muzzle opened and he tried to say her name, but he felt like he was going to stumble. The woman rushed to him and slipped under his arm, her slender frame struggling to support his. He tried not to lean much on her, but it was unavoidable - without some small measure of help, he was going to fall. He felt weak, and he hated himself for it.

Worse, she knew he was weak. She could feel his body trembling.

"Let's get you out of the armour, and warm, okay?"

Her offer resonated in his ears, reminded him of how weak he felt. He was tempted to give in right then and there, but he couldn't. He had to be strong, had to be. He tried to pull himself up, tried to take his weight off her, but he couldn't. He was too weak, and too stubborn to admit it. "N-no, I'm alright, just sick and tired. That's all." he replied, though any force his words might've held were lost in the effort it took to say them. Still, he was too stubborn to give in... Right up 'till he tried to step forward on his own.

He very nearly fell, and ended up having to cling to Juno to stay upright. "Y'know what, I'm sick and tired of being s-so sick and tired," he muttered, eyes wide with realization. She was right - he needed out of his armor and he needed to warm up, and he needed to do so fast. Preferably before he became seriously ill or injured as a result of the frigid armor and his damp fur. "And a warm shower sounds... Sounds really nice right about now," he added in - he tried to chuckle, but wound up coughing up a little more cryofluid instead. That stuff really did get everywhere.

 

[MoreThanSane]

What in Chaos is this guy? Crinlin couldn't help but let his mouth drop as he saw Runt run and run, then tackled, then struggling, then getting up. The man was a machine. He was shaking, obviously exhausted beyond exhaustion, and yet he continued to support himself.

But then, as Fyston arrived, Crin noticed that the catman wasn't actually doing as well as it had appeared. Juno caught him the first time he faltered, keeping him from collapsing completely, but Crinlin knew it had to be difficult for the smaller woman. He grabbed Runt from the other side and wrapped an arm around his waist to blance out his weight.

"Oh, that's no good," said Crinlin as the feline began spewing out cryo juice and coughing violently. "You just hang in there, my friend. We'll take good care of you."

But how? Crinlin didn't know. Obviously this "Runt," as he called himself, was some sort of soldier. But for whom or what he hadn't the slightest idea. Why was he in cryo? Why was he so immediately afraid of humans? Was it only because of seeing the other cat-person bleeding out? Crinlin had to admit that was a likely possibility, but it seemed like there was something more behind Runt's fear. He wasn't sure. Kriff, he just wasn't sure.

"Y'know what, I'm sick and tired of being s-so sick and tired." His voice was slow, stuttering, tired.

"Oh I know. We'll make you all better, all right?" Crinlin tried to turn his head to smile up at the other, but found his head and neck largely immobile under the weight of both Runt and his armor. He shrugged to himself, doubting the feline would be comforted by the expression anyway.

 

[Cassanova]

"We'll take him to the training showers - they're the closest," Juno nodded in the direction of the hallway. She had actually taken into account that there were no stairs on the path that they were going to take. The walk itself was slow, and attention drawing. A few darting stares from Juno had the initiates and Padawans scattering off to the four winds - the last thing Runt needed at this point was to be judged, based on... on anything, really.

As she continued to talk to Runt as they carried him through the training room, and into the locker rooms, "Stay with me, Runt. Nearly there... Warm steamy shower..." She grunted at a few Initiates were gearing up to use the training room, "Hey guys, can you go to room twelve? Thanks!"

The trio of initiates scurried out while Juno and Crinlin set Runt down on a bench seat, leaning up against the wall. She looked to Crinlin, then to the door, subtly offering him the chance to leave before it got awkward in here. Juno then moved her hands to Runt's neckpiece on his armour, "Alright big guy... How do we get this armour off? You need to get warm fast..."

 

[Jiang Winters]

They were helping him.

Why?

Runt's head slowly panned towards Crinlin, studying the human for a moment. They were being kind. They even seemed worried about him. He was shocked beyond belief. He'd only ever met one human who'd treated him with kindness, and he was sure she was long-since dead. He'd been asleep for gods-knew-how-long. Decades or more, if he had memory loss from cold sleep. Freezerburn just didn't happen with short-term cryostasis.

His ears perked slightly as the male spoke, offering comforting words. He was being guided somewhere, but he was felt too weak to ask. He merely shuffled along with Juno and Crinlin, trying his best to support his own weight. He didn't know much about their kind, but he knew that they couldn't support him on their own. He needed to stay in this, otherwise they'd need to get lift gear to move him and his armor.

The walk to the showers was long, and he could feel those wandering the halls pausing to stare at him, or running off to a safe corner. He was feeling much, much sleepier by the time they reached the training room. He was so cold - a nap sounded good. It sounded very good. It'd be so easy; just close his eyes and let all his woes fade away. But he could hear Juno calling to him, telling him to stay with her. He did. He didn't know why he listened, he just did.

He was made to sit. A bench, with a wall behind it. He tried to bring the room into focus. He blinked several times, trying to force his eyesight to restore. He was partially successful - he could see Juno as her fingers grasped his armor's neck guard. His armor. He had to remove it. He should've anticipated that. He closed his eyes and focused. The suit ran off a neural interface, and served essentially as an extension of his own body. Controlling it was easy - controlling it when he was shaking cold and could barely move or think was quite a bit harder. Still, he was able to access its neural commands and ordered it to shed.

Quite suddenly, every joint on the armor hissed and popped. It fell off him, clattering and clanging to the floor in large chunks. Underneath it was a snug-fitting pressure suit, which he began to wriggle out of. He dropped the soaking wet suit to the floor, then leaned back against the wall and tried to catch his breath.

He was sturdily built; the tiger's shoulders were fairly broad and he was quite muscular. He wasn't exactly sleekly built, but he wasn't stocky or 'ripped' either - he was somewhere in between, with thick and powerful limbs but without unnecessary extra bulk. Compact - that was, perhaps, the best description of his biuld. Dog tags hung from his neck, resting atop his white-furred chest, and a small stone eagle pendant on its own necklace, resting just a bit higher up on his chest. On the same chain as the pendant was a cylindrical crystal, pulsating with a faint blue light.

"L-like that," he muttered, finally answering Juno's question on his armor. Cryofluid dripped off his body, and one could feel the cold rolling off him just by moving a hand nearby. He was positivly frigid. The feline tried to haul himself to his feet again. "The... The sooner I get warm, the b-better. And some clothes might... Be nice. For after, I mean."