Open Yavin IV Yavin to Lick Wounds Again?

[Clove Vanhoop]

Spoiler: OOC Note

Open for characters who got injured during the battle and need some help, any Jedi or Sith or any Star Guardians or volunteers helping out!

Yavin IV
Jedi Temple​

The largest battle at the Jedi Temple was over when smoke began to fill the Yavin sky. It wasn't until that point that the Star Guardians made it to Yavin IV. It was rumored that the ships initially traveled to the wrong Yavin before arriving at Yavin IV. Regardless of what had truly happened, they arrived and quickly established a first aid camp near the battle-scarred fields. The ground erupted with tents and beds, medical supplies were ready, and the staff was briefed.

"Star Defenders, split onto two groups. Group A will travel to the Jedi Temple's western fields. Anyone who is still alive will be brought back to the camp." Clove stood before her men and women, her face paler than usual. A large white creature with proud feather wings and four eyes nuzzled her shoulder. "Your job, Group B, is to go to the front of the Jedi Temple; we've received word from Imperial Commander Din that there are still Jedi and Sith alive on the main battlefield. I can only assume that the number of survivors is greater than the one he gave us. I'll fly overhead to the coordinates and provide you with as much information as possible."

There were murmurs among the crowd, but within minutes, the defenders were split into two groups, both of which rushed into action. Clove jumped into the saddle, running her hand through Bib's fur. "Please don't let me fall." She whispered in his ear. It was their first mission together, and to be honest, she wasn't holding up very well. Her hands were trembling, and her mind was racing with a thousand thoughts. But she pushed on, the mission far more important than her own feelings or the lingering death of souls she once knew.

With one hand on her commlink, Clove quickly took off from the ground and headed toward where most of the fighting had happened—directly in front of the Jedi Temple. Bib's white fur and wide wings stood out against the grey smoke clouds, a symbol of hope for anyone still alive on the fields.

---

tag -​

 

[Poet Severino]

Star Defender Poet Severino had easily come to grips with his new job, and the way he eased into the work reminded him of his days as a fresh-faced – if albeit grumpy– Sector Ranger. He couldn't find anything to complain about though he wasn't actively looking for anything worth complaining, and despite not wanting to readily admit to things he thoroughly enjoyed helping to teach combat and self-defense to other Star Guardians.

The half-Morellian expected to be sent out for fieldwork as soon as something struck, but to say that he was surprised to find himself aboard a ship heading to Yavin IV was an utter understatement. His Dad was a Jedi so he was more than aware of the Temple on said forest moon. And because his Dad was a Jedi, Poet had a personal bias when it came to their war against the Sith. The war between the two religious orders brought the Sith Empire's attention to Yavin IV, and where was was fought and either won or lost the Star Guardians would be there to help those in need regardless of their belief and the side they belonged to.

The Star Defender was the very picture of calm and professional, his neutral expression hiding the panic he felt inside. On the way to Yavin IV he had tried to contact his father multiple times but without success. The last time they talked was about Poet's new job. He couldn't help but feel worried for Dad, and so many thoughts nagged at him as he and his colleagues followed Star Lady Vanhoop in setting up the first-aid camp.

Is Dad here? Did he help with the defense? Where is he? Is he safe? Why isn't he answering my calls? Why isn't– god please no don't not dead not dead pleasedon'tbedeadpleaseDadplease–

Instinct and worry for Dad prompted him to go with Group B, but logic dictated that he wasn't here for personal reasons, that he was here to do his job first and foremost. His booted feet, however, fought to carry him towards the main battlefield. Logic and worry were in a deadlock, only to be broken when he felt his commlink vibrate in his pocket. The half-Morellian felt compelled to answer given that only three people knew his private channel, and the man was rewarded by a voicemail from Rudra Severino. It was so underwhelmingly brief, but the message contained what Poet needed to hear the most.

Not on Yavin IV. Away with a Padawan. Safe.

"Group A, follow me! Keep your eyes peeled for survivors!" the former Sector Ranger told his fellow Star Guardians, volunteering to take the leadership role to maintain cohesion and organization in the group. Poet moved swiftly to their destination, the skin on his lower lip on the verge of breaking from how hard he bit it to stop himself from being overwhelmed by relief.

Unlike some of his colleagues, Poet didn't shy away nor shrink at the sight of fallen fighters. Two-toned gaze scanned for survivors on the way to their location, glancing over corpses and blood-soaked ground. He noticed an Imperial trooper struggling beneath the body of a dead Gamorrean. Ranger Severino would have left the man for dead; he would have scoffed at the dying Imperial. Star Defender Severino was a different story – despite his personal disdain he quickly crossed the distance between him and the trooper and, with a grunt, helped the man free himself from the dead that pinned him down. There was a wound on the trooper's side, blood leaking in a sluggish stream.

"Hey, I got you," he assured the trooper even if it fell flat at the moment. Poet didn't expect for his sworn neutrality to be put to the test as soon as he joined the Star Guardians, but he was determined to prove that the Star Lady's trust in hiring him wasn't misplaced. Peeling the trooper's cuirass off so he could have better access to the wound, Poet offered the soldier a tight smile as he applied pressure on the injury to stop it from bleeding further. "You'll be alright. I'll make sure of that."

Raising his head, the Star Defender signalled to his fellow Star Guardians that he had found a survivor who needed medical aid. Better leave the healing to the experts, but Poet would hold true to what he told the injured trooper and worked on applying first aid.

@LilyNion

 

[Brynjolf Baan]

"Sergeant Shiloh, you are to stay breathing until we get help... And that's an order!" Gorr had been dragging his fallen comrade for about a kilometer or two. The wolf had found the man buried alive in the temple hangar and it had taken about... well, Gorr lost track of the hours it took for him to dig his man out of the ground. There were a few more soldiers Gorr had retrieved that weren't apart of his platoon, but they were fellow Imperials nonetheless. He had laid them under the shade of a half-burnt tree before searching for more soldiers.

That was when he heard a slow heartbeat pulse beneath the rubble of the hangar. That damn redheaded Jedi would pay for what she did with her own blood. Gorr was injured as well, but he was still able enough to deal with it on his own. However, the huge gash in his left shoulder would've said otherwise. Adrenaline mixed with natural Shistavanen pain-tolerance had kept the White Wolf's attention away from the wound. And yet it still festered, and it would only be a matter of time before the pain finally got to him.

"Yes...yes, sir..." Muttered the Sergeant after Gorr gently laid him down with the other injured soldiers. "Private, how is your Corporal?" Gorr heaved. "Not good, sir... I-I th-think..." This man... This boy was new to all of this and Gorr could tell he was delirious now. Without saying another word, Gorr grabbed the died Corporal and took the body out of sight from the Private. Now it's just us three... Gorr yelped after he threw the body onto a pile of other fallen soldiers. Gorr had stayed behind to collect the dog tags, and he held all one-hundred and fifty-four of them in his bloodied paws. The White Wolf let out a shrill howl, letting out the deepest felt sorrows that were raging to be let free.

War was never glorious.

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

Although Clove enjoyed riding on Bib, she loathed it this time. Viewing the battlefield from above, seeing the bodies laying in the grass, was less than pleasant. Especially while having to report where they were located while flying over them. And yet, to her surprise, this battlefield may have been the least bloody she's ever seen. Sure, there was death, as well as pain and suffering. But there were no children, no hostages, and the Jedi were free to flee as soon as the battle was over. And, while she had no idea how important Altair's role was as a commander, she could only assume it was significant. Was this what his war would look like?

This isn't so bad... Is this his first time taking the lead in a fight? Clove thought to herself as she flew closer to the field. If he has so much care to avoid death, maybe I can joi- She froze in the saddle, the sentence in her head abruptly coming to a stop. Join what? The Sith? For what? To alter his path and make him even less deadly? To change him? And, in return, change herself into a woman she knew she'd despise? Clove let out a shallow laugh as she ran her hands through her hair, ears drooping down. No, he still ordered people to fight and kill. This invasion claimed the lives of Jedi, Sith, and Imperials alike. And love? If you truly love someone, you don't try to change them or make excuses for them; you accept them as they are. Yes, she believed she truly loved him, but only a version of him. And it wasn't the one she saw on the throne. This..? These bodies, the ones at the Star Guardians' base? She could never accept that.

She didn't belong in his world, did she? ... No. It wasn't just his world. It was also Aadya's, Vahl's, and Sharky boy's.

Clove raised her head slightly, trying to act as if the realization had made her taller, tougher, and brighter. But all she felt was a sickening punch in the guts and pain in her chest. Still, despite having to think properly about all of this, this wasn't the time. She had to push through and get to the location he'd given them. Meanwhile, Bib was squeaking in the sky, attempting to catch her attention; she'd been holding the rein loosely in her hand, not giving any directions physically or through Animal Friendship. "I'm sorry!" she called out to Bib, carefully guiding the rein to the left.

Bib's large white wings flapped through the grey smoke clouds, descending to the battleground grass. Clove didn't have to look far to find the three fallen fighters Altair had reported, or Altair himself. As a few voices reported seeing some Darksider(@Charles) in the shape of a white wolf, she reached up for her commlink, the connected earpiece in her ear bursting into life. "Star Defender Severino(@Forsythe Crowholde), I'm receiving information about a pile of bodies and an assumed Sith with white fur somewhere in your area. Would you mind taking a look to see what's going on, and perhaps see if you can offer any help?" She spoke into the commlink. Once that was sorted she turned her attention to the lying Sith and Jedi in the grass. "Group B, I urgently require three stretchers to arrive at my location. There's one man with a completely fractured leg which seems to be bleeding heavily, one man impaled in the chest, and one man with a missing arm that seems to be cauterized. We also need to make sure that both Jedi are evacuated."

"I also see two more fallen soldiers near my left and another to our right." Bib landed in the grass as she continued to speak to the frequency. As the medics and healers sped up, Clove jumped out of the saddle and dashed over to the three unconscious fighters. It wasn't until she got closer that she noticed Altair(@Sreeya) was just... sitting next to one of the wounded fighters, guarding him despite being wounded himself. "Hey," she said as she kneeled in the grass beside the man, her leather bag containing the medical kit falling off her shoulder and onto the ground for easier access. "You look rough as hell." She frowned slightly. "Do you need healing? Or a stretcher?" Her gaze shifted from Altair to the man lying in the grass as she took note of how severely wounded he was. It was a miracle he was still alive.

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tag (@Phoenix @Mr. Teatime @Valen Pelora no need to join the thread but am tagging to let you all know! )​

 

[Altair Din]

Altair actually forgot to detail his own injuries when he flagged Star Guardians. He was sitting on the grass with his helmet off smoking a cigarra with his left hand. His right arm was uselessly dangling at his side, a deep wound cutting into his shoulder almost down to the bone. He jammed a stim into his shoulder to curb the pain for now while he waited for help to arrive. The tiefling was in the middle of blowing smoke rings when he saw some huge beast flying his way. Great, what fresh hell was this? Altair gave a deep sigh as he began to reach for his wan-shen. With luck and a precise aim, maybe he could stick it through the face before it could eat him.

He squinted as he kept looking, spotting a familiar face. Altair stopped reaching for the spear and he remained seated, going right back to puffing on his cigarra. His face betrayed his exhaustion, but he was still feeling that high from the battle. Clove would notice he had a collection of Jedi lightsabers on his belt from their enemies. He didn’t get up immediately, staring at her as if she stumbled upon him having a picnic.

Altair drew in the cigarra deeply at Clove’s assessment of his appearance, “Good to see you too,” He said flatly as smoke plumed from his nostrils.

The tiefling turned to regard his injury, wincing a bit at the pain through his shoulder, “No kids or civvies dead,” Altair flashed her a grin, “Told ya,” His gaze flicked over to Varyn, “Make sure he don’t die,” He said as he drew from the cigarra again. Altair gazed off in a different direction, staring at the weird beast thing she rode in on and trying to make sense of it. He began to hum to himself, intent on staying by Varyn’s side as he was transported.

@LilyNion

 

[Eleanora Drast]

"Come visit Yavin!" Nora muttered as she walked through the smoke, towards what she did not know. "Beautiful gardens, vast libraries, food fresh off the branch!" Robes torn and slashed, shoulder bleeding from what looked like an attempted mauling, and face marked by soot, dirt, and blood; it was easy to see the aftermath of the invasion on every inch of her. "A dream posting, almost a holiday, what with all the Jedi running around to ensure your safety!" She wasn't sure where she was going, but she had heard the howling of something earlier, and had instinctively turned the other way. Having run into a bear like Sith earlier and almost lost her arm before she got away, she had had her share of beasts for the day.

"Bet this wasn't how you expected this to go," she asked the Pantoran soldier propped up at her side, "did you?" Unconscious as he was, she didn't get a reply, so she just let her frustration bubble on under the surface and continued walking. "Yeah, I'd give everyone the silent treatment too if I was in your shoes." She had to get him to safety, that was the priority. She just hoped that whatever order the Sith had given to instruct their troops to stand down and let the Jedi evacuate had been relayed to all their forces, because she had no desire to fight. So she kept moving, panting under the weight of a figure much bigger than her, navigating the temple ground mostly by memory, till she finally spotted some forms up ahead. Not sure if she was about to run into more of those wannabe stormtroopers, or Force forbid a Sith, she approached cautiously. That was till she spotted the stretchers, and medical supplies. Letting out a sigh of relief, almost a chuckle, she started moving towards them.

"I need help!" She called out, letting hope overcome caution in that moment, and approaching the medics. "He's passed out, a pillar collapsed on his leg. I think he's.." She stopped as a couple of medics stepped up and took the body off of her, allowing her to finally stand straight and try and catch her breath. Only then was she close enough to notice the figures on the grass. The unconscious figures, the tiny healer kneeling besides the only one of the group who seemed to be awake, and the awake figure himse..."Fuck."

In that moment she knew exactly where she was, who she was looking at, and suddenly she started wondering if she had made a huge mistake in turning away from that howling.

@Sreeya @LilyNion

 

[Poet Severino]

The Sith trooper Poet found had been immediately taken away by his colleagues for treatment, and without any breath wasted the half-Morellian was moving again. He pressed to the east, searching for surivors and directing his fellow Star Guardians as he received directions in return. Only the knowledge that his father was off-world kept the Star Defender from outwardly expressing any negative emotions towards the invasion of Yavin IV. Still, it was principle that guided him in his newfound duty, and Dad's teachings about kindness and lending a helping hand to those in need regardless of their identity.

There would always be a part of him that hated criminals and the Sith, but right now he knew he had to rise above his own feelings, do his job, and help. His parents and little sister were great influences, as well as Yuuta, his best friend. So when his commlink beeped to life and Clove directed him towards an assumed Sith, Poet thought of those four and moved forward.

"10-4, Star Lady," he replied, rising from where he knelt beside a recently deceased Jedi Knight, his hands still stained with the female Ithorian's blood. Poet felt guilt eat at him for coming to the woman's aid a little too late, and though she breathed her last in his arms the half-Morellian refused to let her death shackle him down for the moment. Gently he laid her down and closed her eyes, taking her fallen lightsaber only to return it in her hands. Uniform marred with mud and blood, the former Ranger sped towards the assumed Sith's direction along with six Star Guardians on his tail. "On my way."

Poet heard the howl before two-colored eyes fell on the most peculiar member of the Imperials standing before a pile of dead bodies. The Star Lady wasn't kidding when she mentioned the Sith's white fur. A Shistavanen, by the looks of it. The half-Morellian had never met a Sith face to face, and he had been harboring a grudge towards the Empire for a while now after his sister's death. This was the first time he had saved Imperials, and the mixed feelings he felt earlier?

"I don't know if it's your custom to just gather the dead in a pile, but I'm gonna ask you to stop," called out the former Ranger as he approached the Shistavanen and what was left of his group, his voice neutral and clear. Three surviving Imperials, including the white wolf whose blood stained his fur. "Don't put too much strain on your body, please." There was a subtle bite on the last word... annoyance, perhaps? "We're from the Star Guardians. Please allow us to treat injuries you have acquired on the battle."

Three Star Medics began to approach the Shistavanen while the rest gravitated towards the lieutenant's comrades.

"Sir, may I take a look at your shoulder?" a female Pantoran asked Gorr, hands already on her medkit as she assessed the damage there. The other two Star Medics were scanning the Shistavanen for other visible injuries, and the three with the lieutenant's subordinates already looking after the pair by treating their wounds.

Poet's gaze then fell on the pile of bodies. Fists clenching and unclenching, the man drew a short, sharp breath then thought to himself, At least line them up and not just pile them on a heap like trash. They're dead, but where's the fucking respect here? Fucking people died fighting your wars and when they die for your cause you just...

The half-Morellian bit back the rest of his thoughts before he could snap them out at the surviving Imperial troopers, reminding himself that he shouldn't be causing problems for the Star Guardians. Gaze dark with barely concealed anger, the Star Defender approached the pile, pulled one body from the heap, and laid the dead man on the ground with the respect due to them. He did the same to the next corpse, followed by another, and another. Five dead bodies laid respectfully on the ground in and the Star Defender was already fuming, muttering angry complaints at the corpses and to himself.

"I don't know why you're with the Empire but I won't let them toss you on a pile like trash. I don't care if you're brainwashed or you joined in your own free will, but you bleed and die for them and they do this to your corpses? They got time to pile your cadavers on a heap but not lay you down with just a bit of respect for your dedication or something? Fuck that. Not on my watch. Nuh-uh. Nope. I may be biased against your Empire, but..."

Poet carried on with his task even if this one wasn't instructed to him. H would lay these bodies out even if he had to do it on his own. He wasn't pro-Empire, but these dead soldiers surely have families waiting for them to come home, and he understood that all too well. At least with them laid out identifying them would be easier, and they could be sent back home and given proper burial–

The thought gave the Star Defender pause. Would these dead Imperials and Jedi... would they be sent back home?

@LilyNion @Charles

 

[Caris Orlan]

The Force spoke in many different ways. Those lucky enough to know that voice rarely experienced that touch the same way. An almost impossible to describe experience. Caris often heard the Force was music. An artifact of his childhood. A twinkling in his ear or a bass in his heart. The Force spoke to him, and he listened…but not today. A discordant clang echoed in his soul. A clashing of rhythms that did not make sense. They urged him awake. He wanted anything but.

Be dead…please be dead. Anything would be easier than facing what he had done. The Sith had not obliged. It made him hate them even more. They should have killed him. He would have died a Jedi. Died a hero defending his home. What was he now? A twisted mockery of the man he thought he was. Bile rose in Caris through. Consciousness annoyingly coming for him.

If they would not do it, he would solve the problem himself. Caris’ eyes snapped open. He was where he had been left. The battle was clearly lost. The sounds of fighting having dimmed to nothing. His head turned so he could look upon his ruined armed. Strange, he still felt it there. Almost as if he could move his fingers. The pain had dulled…or perhaps he simply worried about a greater pain. Caris sighed. He pushed himself standing to his feet. Only then noticing the Sith just a short distance away. He wasn’t dead. He should fight them…right? Oddly he found he did not really care.

Caris ignored the leader of the Star Guardians. He had vaguely known her as a Jedi. He had no time from traitors. Dead eyes looked into hers. “No need.” His voice was flat. “Go save the living.” His saber must be somewhere around here. If that failed, he’d find another way.

@Sreeya @LilyNion

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

Clove blinked at Altair(@Sreeya), who grinned and stated that no civilians or children had died. Never mind all the other people who died, or the fact that the gardens she used to enjoy walking through were now littered with corpses. She was about to open her mouth and ask him if he was lost his mind when she noticed the size of his wound. She could almost see his bone. He was almost literally out of his mind, most likely only awake because of the fight's high. She figured it wouldn't be long before the high wore off and his body caught up with reality.

The half-Annfyn sighed, biting her tongue and reaching for her comlink once more. "I'm goin' to need another stretcher." She spoke into the device before her gaze returned to the man in the grass. It wasn't until she saw his face that she recognized him as the man she'd danced with, Varyn(@Phoenix). Another wave of pain and disgust rushed through her chest, but she ignored it. Because there were people who needed help.

Clove lifted her hands over Varyn, the Force coursing through her body for a few seconds. That Force then seeped through her hands and into Varyn's chest, the warmth and light clashing with the dread and darkness that lingered on the battlefield. It curled through his wounds, Force Healing everything that was damaged. And yet; she couldn't heal him entirely. Partly because it was a feat she simply wasn't strong enough for, and partly because it would drain her stamina almost completely, and there were many other people who needed healing as well. So all she did was heal his wounds enough to stabilize him as much as possible. And when she felt like he was out of any major danger, she withdrew that same Force.

Only then did she notice a scream for help. Clove turned to face the source, a woman with fox red hair(@Wit) carrying a Pantoran Soldier. The soldier was just... hanging there and they both looked like hell. Sugar. Okay, no, one person at a time. "Just a second!" Clove called out, oblivious to the woman's regret at seeing the three passed-out soldiers, Clove and Altair. She dashed through the grass towards the Jedi, whose leg was completely shattered(@Mr. Teatime), her backpack trailing behind her. One look at his leg told her that no amount of Force Healing in the universe could fix it. There wasn't much she could do, and she wasn't sure she wanted to amputate his leg right there in the field. Regardless, she yanked the medical kit from the leather bag, grabbing a tourniquet from it. She wrapped the tourniquet around the man's thigh before tugging it tight until she was certain almost all blood flow to the leg had been cut off.

Thankfully, the Star Medics and Star Defenders had arrived with the stretchers at that point. They got right to work, carefully transferring Varyn and Reinhart to the stretchers. "Brin' them back to camp an' make sure that evacuation for the Jedi is ready as soon as they are able to travel. They should be able to fly in the civilian ships we normally use." Clove sprang from the grass, her gaze drawn to the man(@Valen Pelora) who had lost his arm. To her surprise, he had awoken at some point and was now staring straight into her eyes and speaking flatly. Something about the way he talked about the living bothered her, as if he weren't a part of it. Or perhaps it was his dead eyes that made her stomach curl. Regardless, he felt off. "Keep an eye on him." She spoke to one of the medics nearby."Don't let him out of your sight." A human woman with brown ponytails walked over to Ceris, a gentle smile on her lips. "Hey there, can I escort you back to the camp, so we can check your wounds?"

The half-Annfyn looked over at Altair. He was stable enough, for now, for her to run over to the soldier. "A stretcher will be there in a minute or two; don't move." Her voice was far more stern than usual, her gaze and expression devoid of emotion; it was clear she was completely focused on her job. She grabbed her leather bag and dashed over to the Jedi with the soldier. "I'm so sorry!" She said, wishing she had been able to rush over right away, but there were many injured men and women and only a few hands available. "Let's lay him down so I can look at him more closely." She gave the soldier a look before turning her gaze to the Jedi. "Are you hurt as well? We have a few evacuation ships for both Jedi an' civilians."

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tag -​

 

[Altair Din]

Altair wasn’t entirely surprised Clove was again giving him the cold shoulder. However, the anger and darkness that swirled within the other Jedi survivor didn’t help matters. Where he normally would have thought little of it, or let it roll off his back, he felt pangs of rage simmering beneath the surface. This was the girl that told him time and time again she wanted to be with him and loved him? The same girl that couldn’t be bothered to say a word to him on the biggest night of his and his family’s lives? That couldn’t be bothered to come check on him when he was hurt? To even do a quick patch job? To show a hint of concern? To treat him any different from the countless faceless corpses? Trelain (@Phoenix )was right - in some ways he had been manipulated by Clove. He had been more likely to keep warfare contained to just military targets. But clearly even that wasn’t good enough. Nothing would ever be good enough for a self absorbed wretch like her. Nothing short of him throwing every bit of ambition away to only do what she wanted. Nothing short of removing his claws and becoming a kept pet. Like that beast she rode in on - looks for intimidation only but ultimately made to do her bidding. Trelain was right.

Caris’ hate and darkness fed into his feelings, and in turn, his own hurt and anger would flow into the Jedi. It was a palpable darkness that poisoned and festered like an open wound. There was a hum in the Force and it was a chill down the spine of those in the vicinity. The legs of several stretchers began to bend and contort the slightest bit, the wail of twisted metal resounding.

However, Altair slowly exhaled, reminding himself that he was surrounded as he placed his helmet back on. The urge to coil the Force around Clove’s neck was almost overwhelming but he bit back, his fingers trembling. He had to force himself not to look at her as a beast within him that hadn’t emerged since Mustafar threatened to rear its head.

The tiefling didn’t even realize it, but he drew from the injured Jedi, the one with the crushed leg. Energy siphoned from the man to empower Altair and he slowly rose to stand. He needed to remove himself from the situation before he attempted to kill both that Jedi and Clove herself. He was dipping into exactly what he feared himself to become. But was it so bad? Wouldn’t this be created by his own design rather than another’s? He slowly limped over towards the Jedi that was walking away.

“Why do they always send you?” He asked the other man. If he turned to look, Altair would take the lightsaber he had stolen and toss it back to the man.

@Valen Pelora @LilyNion

 

[Caris Orlan]

He just shook his head. A piece of him knew Clove and her Star Guardians meant well. A force that was empowered to clean up the mess without fear of reprisal. Caris simply couldn’t find that piece at the moment. He saw cowards. Where were they when the Sith came? How could they make a deal with those monsters? They played at being the good guys without the needed sacrifice. It disgusted him. Caris’s gaze slipped back over Clove. She was the worst of all. Not a Jedi…but lacking the courage to properly betray them. He could understand…respect...those who stabbed them in the back. Not this petty half measure. Did she not see her dying brothers and sisters? Oh, yes come save us once we are already dead. He sneered. The ego it took to call oneself a Star Lady.

“Are you as deaf as her?” That same flat affect rolling across his tongue. “You can offer me nothing, do not touch me.” His remaining hand was balled into a tight fist. The muscles in his jaw straining. They would not touch him.

A veil seemed to lift when Altair put his helmet back on. Caris recoiled in shock. Realization flitting across his face. The darker aspects of the Force having swam between the Jedi and Sith. Each feeding the other, begging for more. A shiver ran up his spine. That feeling still beating in his chest. What would he have done if Altair had not mastered himself? He needed to leave. The Darkside corrupted absolutely, and he was tainted. Only death could save him. And yet, that did not seem to stop his hand reaching out and catching his lightsaber. He told himself it was because he would need it later.

A harsh laugh scrapped across his lips. “I could not fall.” Caris waved his hand around. “How stupid is that?” Perhaps he could die in peace.

@LilyNion @Sreeya

 

[Eleanora Drast]

Nora was not prepared for how things played out, Caris waking up, Altair reacting, and the maelstrom of emotions that suddenly engulfed her. Emotional shrapnel though it might be, the injured, exhausted, and unsuspecting Jedi might as well have been the intended target, the way it hit her like a truck. She didn't even consciously know what was happening, but her thoughts were tainted the same way Caris' were. She looked at Clove, at the Star Guardians, and she found herself agreeing with Caris.

Step away from him, step away from all of them, they were probably better off without their help.

She felt threatened, felt scared, and suddenly she knew she had to get away. She found two fingers on her right hand beginning to bend, beginning to form the signs to cast a spell, till she caught herself and stopped. She looked from Caris to Altair, and felt a sense of dread as realization dawned. He had done that, without her even sensing it, probably without himself sensing what he had done. He had...corrupted her? For the briefest of moments, in the smallest of ways, he had somehow used their emotions to feed himself, and in doing so somehow colored her emotions.

She couldn't think straight, paranoid thoughts still dancing in her mind, and unsure of what she could trust, she did the only thing that seemed to make sense. To help the other Jedi. To get out, out of this mess. So she started walking towards Caris, eyes scanning her surroundings, even the would be healers seemed like threats now. And of course there was the other Sith on the ground, whose face she could now see as she moved towards Caris, wondering why that face looked so familiar?

@Sreeya @LilyNion @Valen Pelora @Phoenix

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

Clove, like Eleanora, was caught off guard by the avalanche of emotions that erupted in the air. Normally, the half-Annfyn would have been able to ignore it; she withstood Kashyyyk's darkness and she'd been working on refining her mental barriers and strengthening her mask since Raze, so she wouldn't crumble during work again. But this time was different. A mild hurt began to emerge from within those mental barriers themselves. And it grew bigger, stronger, and darker in a matter of seconds, until she felt nothing but rage clawing through her mind. And just as that rage reached its peak, Clove felt a hand wrap around her neck.

Clove let out a startled gasp as she reached for her neck, only to discover that nothing was choking her. Not even the Force. And yet, she felt as if she needed to gasp for air. That's when she noticed Eleanora and her terrified expression. Eleanora raised her hands to make a gesture, or cast a spell, but then stopped. And through it all, Clove did nothing. All she could do was stare at Eleanora, her ears drooping to her shoulders, her eyes wide and unaware of the Darkside swirling through the grass, grasping everyone's mind and fueling emotions of rage and despair.

Even after Eleanora had walked away from her and the Star Guardians, Clove remained motionless. Her heart was tight, and her mind was being devoured by the endless waves of emotions that had broken through the bond. She turned her head to look behind her, noticing both Jedi and Sith treating the Star Guardians as villains. No, not only them. It was also her. And one look at Altair confirmed that the rage she was feeling stemmed from their bond. She had no idea what fueled his rage, but she could take a few guesses. Clove's gaze returned to the soldier on the ground and the Star Guardians who were feverishly working to stabilize him. She hardly even knew them; many of them she had recently hired.

How had it come to this? So desperately alone, surrounded by strangers with only a handful of friends, the people she'd once considered her brothers and sisters turning their backs on her, just as she'd turned her back on them, the Sith destroying and harming everything she held dear, and... Altair... She should've gone to that cliff before Ruzaan found her. Should've ended it all before she hurt everyone like she'd been doing for the last year or so...

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tag @Sreeya @Valen Pelora @Wit ​

 

[Brynjolf Baan]

Gorr felt no pity for the dead... they were the lucky ones. Piling the bodies, at this point was simply an easy way to keep track of the dead until help came. And then, when help did come, they seemed that they wished they hadn't. The Shistavanen was no Forcie, but his ears could hear the rising pulse of the new arrival. What was it? The bodies or the bloodied soldier who looked after them?

"Do what you can... The other three are worse off than I am..." Gorr winced and huffed trying to speak. "The private is really bad... Make sure... Make sure he get's out first. He deserves it." The Pantoran did a good job of removing the broken armor plates to mend his wounds. The gash in his shoulder really mangled him up more than he realized, and the more he looked at it the more it hurt. So, he turned his attention to the man who began to lay the bodies in a line with care. Gorr was just about ready to give his good graces to the man before hearing him mutter under his breath.

"I don't know why you're with the Empire but I won't let them toss you on a pile like trash. I don't care if you're brainwashed or you joined in your own free will, but you bleed and die for them and they do this to your corpses? They got time to pile your cadavers on a heap but not lay you down with just a bit of respect for your dedication or something? Fuck that. Not on my watch. Nuh-uh. Nope. I may be biased against your Empire, but..."

Brainwashed?...Trash!?... Gorr's own pulse began to rise as he continued to listen to this 'Guardian' bad mouth those that had bled for an ideal worth fighting for. "Sir, please calm yourself. It will help with the bleeding-" Gorr shrugged the medic off and stood up to greet this...this Star Guardian himself. "Thank you... For taking the time to lay them down. Now, I'd like it if you attended to the living. There are more of those bleeding and dying soldiers out there that need your tending to." The Lieutenant growled. Finally, the Pantoran was allowed to work on his shoulder again as Gorr sat himself patiently.

@Forsythe Crowholde

 

[Darth Tempest]

From elsewhere on the battlefield, Vahliri began to approach the medical outpost and tents. The half-Annfyn had survived her own engagement with Tazlen, with less severe injuries than most of her peers. All the same, that didn’t mean she’d come out of Yavin unscathed. Blood still oozed and dried across her face from her cracked nose, smeared with the rest of the dirt and grime. Most notably, her left arm had been completely removed at the upper bicep - the clean, molten cut of a lightsaber scored across the metallic stump. Her mind still lingered on Tazlen fleeing from the battle with her vambrace in his possession, the thought of it causing a spike of rage to flow through her.

But now - with Yavin largely under Imperial control - Vahliri’s attention shifted away from the battle and towards its aftermath. She’d caught wind of the Star Guardian’s arrival, and the knowledge had already left a sour taste in her mouth. Whatever legal status the organization had in Imperial territory, the half-Annfyn’s feelings towards Clove were less-than-positive. Over the months, she’d learned exactly how the former Jedi had been involved with Altair’s capture and subsequent torture as Resistance hands, and everything that had occurred since. It was something she wouldn’t forgive or let go anytime soon.

The girl had been nothing but warm words and smiles towards Vahliri - and proceeded to hurt one of the people she was closest to.

As she approached the Star Guardian camp, Vahliri’s gaze swept across the injured and fallen. Gold-tinted ambers flicked towards the Imperials being treated under Star Guardian care, and then towards the pair of Jedi that lingered nearby. Curiously, the half-Annfyn could feel the Darkness that radiated from the both of them - pronounced emotion, corruptive by its very nature - that caused her lips to tug upwards ever-so-slightly. She didn’t catch sight of Altair or Varyn quite yet - as the pair already began to make their way off the scene.

Only then did her attention flick onto Clove - the gold behind her gaze glinting more pronounced than ever. It was only the legal protections that kept Vahliri from escalating her own disdain - but that didn’t prevent the half-Annfyn from striding right up to the ‘Star Lady’, the contempt clear behind her eyes.

“And here I thought you turned your back on the people of this planet,” Vahliri called out towards Clove as she crossed the distance, her voice echoing loud enough for the Jedi present to clear her, loud and clear. Despite her apparent benevolence, Clove had still abandoned the Jedi.

She came to a halt right before Clove. “Tell me, do you plan to make any arrests on this battlefield? Hand over any of these Imperials over to the Resistance?” She asked, the venom clear in her voice. Clove had been responsible for Altair’s arrest. Responsible for the torture he suffered. And ultimately, responsible for the hammer than fell upon New Alderaan as a result. Vahliri knew that Clove would feel the weight of it, and she wanted the girl to.

“Or maybe you’re just here now that it’s good for your perfect little PR campaign.”

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

Clove was about to raise her head and take a breather, anything to get those doomed dark thoughts out of her head, when she heard Vahl's voice boom across the field. Clove froze once more, her heart sinking to her chest. She immediately recognized what Vahl was doing. It wasn't subtle at all. And yet, it worked. It impaled her mind, piercing through the wall she had so delicately protected. Because she didn't need Vahl's words to feel the weight of it. It was what sparked these original thoughts long before Vahl said those words.

She had no idea how Vahl knew about the fact that she was forced to capture Altair. But Altair apparently couldn't keep his mouth shut.

Clove slowly turned around, her gaze fixed on Vahl, who had come to a stop right in front of her. Vahl's flames met with empty eyes. "The Star Guardians do not make arrests." Her voice was just as empty as her gaze, any emotion the girl usually carried was gone. "Nor is tryin' to help the people here a PR campaign." She moved closer to Vahl, raising her head to look her in the eyes. Oh, how she wished she could attack Vahl. Not to hurt her, well, she did want to hurt her for New Alderaan, but that wasn't the point. She only needed to take one wrong step. All it would take is one attack on a Sith. Even if she survived Vahl, Darth Raze would surely find her and kill her.

The Star Guardians had more than enough cause to doubt their leader as the walls continued to close in around Clove and she realized the Jedi were now glaring at her with disgust. She had nowhere to go. There was nowhere else to look but into Vahl's eyes. The Darkside continued to creep deeper and deeper into Clove's mind, feeding the misery and dread and sucking any color out of life. All she ever wanted to do was help. And every time she did, she only made things worse. Bringing Altair back from death on Dantooine forced him to be captured and New Alderaan to fall, leaving the Jedi because she was untrustworthy and unfit to be a Jedi only hurt the Jedi, trying to get closer to the Sith in an attempt to learn about them and accept them only hurt the Sith, and attempting to repair her mistakes with the Star Guardians began to backfire. How had a simple wish to travel the galaxy and heal people turned into this disaster? What was the saying? No good deed goes unpunished.

Dark whispers continued to circle around in her ears, promising ways to end the pain. The one was more sickeningly sweet and alluring than the other. Reality slid through her fingers like sand, destroying the fragile strength she'd been desperately trying to rebuild since Dantooine.

"You are free to end it right now. Get revenge for Altair, for Tia. I don't care anymore." Clove's voice was barely above a whisper, and her words were lacking any fear. She wasn't sure if Vahl would actually break the law, but even if she didn't, the half-Annfyn was done. If it didn't end right now, she'd find a way to end the pain herself.

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tag @Altaris @Wit ​

 

[Darth Tempest]

Vahliri couldn’t help the sneer that twisted across her expression. The half-Annfyn could clearly see the pain and anguish that laced through Clove’s heart - powerful and dark emotions that drove her perilously towards the edge. She could see the emptiness in her expression and eyes, all the color and characteristic warmth drained from her. None of it elicited even the faintest crack of sympathy from Vahliri. None of it paid for the woman’s own actions and the pain it caused Altair.

She blinked a few times when Clove practically dared her to do it. To end all the pain and suffering with a single stroke of her saber - to finish the fallen Jedi off. Was she serious?

“Big words, from a woman shielded beneath the banner of the Star Guardians.” Vahliri didn’t attempt to suppress her snort. “You,” She jabbed a finger. “Are not worth the effort it takes to ignite my saber.” She made no attempt to hide the contempt in her words. “Nor will I give you such an easy way out. A coward’s way out.” It was pathetic. Clove had practically asked the half-Annfyn to do it, giving up on this life and the people within it. Vahliri couldn’t take the bait. She wanted to make the girl suffer.

“I don’t need to touch you, to hurt you.” Vahliri said flatly, venom lacing her words. The golden glint of her eyes stared right back at Clove, the words clearly no hollow threat.

Without another word, Vahliri turned on a heel - striding away from Clove and the Star Guardian’s camp. The half-Annfyn knew exactly what she intended to do, and there wasn’t a single creature in the Galaxy that would have the ability to stop her. Clove would have no hint of what was going to happen, but would certainly know it when the moment came.

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

Of course Vahl wouldn't. On any other day, she would only be able to respect the woman's willpower not to breach the written laws. But all she felt at the time was resentment and annoyance. It was a lot of brave and loud talking with very little action. At least Vahl admitted that she didn't want to give her an easy way out. And perhaps that was what irritated her the most; Vahl was a coward for not raising her weapon, but she was no better. She knew she didn't have the guts to do it herself. The opportunity was right in front of her, but she chose not to take it.

The Sith's threat fell on deaf ears at first, as venom-laced words were nothing new to her. After all, she'd seen Aadya's gaze and heard her speak. So she stood there silently watching Vahl walk away, until she finally broke her gaze away to find Bib.

Clove made her way over to the white feathered creature and began climbing the saddle, wanting to leave this place. One gentle tug on the reins was enough to launch the winged creature into the air and back towards the Star Guardians' main camp. And she wasn't sure if it was the fresh air high in the sky or the fact that she wasn't surrounded by the dead bodies of people she used to know, but some of the deepest darkness in her mind had begun to fade. It was as if a veil was being lifted. And with that newfound clarity came a new wave of panic.

Vahl's words were not meaningless. She wasn't threatening just for the sake of threatening. That look... No, Vahl had something planned for her, and she had no idea what it was.

/exit thread

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tag @Altaris ​

 

[Poet Severino]

Shistavanen or not, Poet didn't miss the deeper meaning behind the Sith lieutenant's growl, nor did he feel particularly guilty nor embarrassed at having his mumbled rant heard. A rebellious part of him hoped to be heard, and though nothing about his behavior showed his satisfaction the former Ranger simply glanced at the white wolf over his shoulder with the usual frown plastered on his face. Shoving the urge to hold the Sith's stare as the Star Defender gently laid down another body, Poet's two-toned gaze remained fixed on the dead soldier's agonized expression instead. A sad expression to be forever frozen on one's face after death, lifeless gaze unseeing no more. The half-Morellian carefully closed the fallen soldier's eyes.

"It's the least I can do," was Poet's quiet reply to the Shistavanen's gratitude. The man lingered by the recent corpse he had laid down, gaze still firmly fixed on that expression of agony and shock. There would come a day, one future out of the possibles, that that same expression would be the last Mum would ever see either on his face or Dad's. Maybe that was one of the reasons why he switched jobs? It was a genuine fear, and he was sure that Dad shared this one with him. Still, it did nothing to take both Severino men from their chosen path.

The half-Morellian rose to his full height, booted feet carrying him back to the pile. Sweat dripped down his forehead, mingling with dried blood that wasn't his own. The next body he lifted was a woman's, the first he'd encountered among the dead, and instead of carrying her over his shoulders Poet took her broken body delicately in his arms. There was so much respect now held in his gaze and the way he carried her, much like he had done for the female Ithorian Jedi who died in his arms earlier. His grandfather was an old-fashioned, conservative man who believed that the battlefield was not a woman's province, a thought Poet didn't actually share pre- and post-amnesia. If anything, he respected women on the battlefield more than men.

"I assure you, good sir, that the bleeding and the dying are being taken care of and looked after even without my hands in that field," Poet told the lieutenant, his tone utterly devoid of the sarcasm he would have usually given either a Sith or a criminal. The half-Morellian just sounded... exhausted, and not physically. And true to his words, the Star Medics and his fellow Star Defenders were doing what he just told the Shistavanen, tirelessly searching for survivors, giving their utmost best to heal the injured, and save the dying (and giving them the comfort they needed when there was nothing the medics and dotors could do to save them). The medics who were tending to the lieutenant's subordinates have already been approached by four Star Defenders carrying stretchers, and were already taking the injured pair towards the Star Guardian's camp. Poet and the female Pantoran was left with Gorr, with the latter carefully and expertly disinfecting and treating the latter's wounds.

He laid the woman he carried down on the grass, smoothing down her hair and brushing the stray strands from her face. "It may be odd to you that I pity the dead. I respect them for giving their life to the cause they believed in, but I pity those they leave behind even more. My fellow Star Guardians are doing their best to save lives in the aftermath of this battle. I'm just one additional cog in the wheel who wants to look after those who lost their lives."

He didn't know what compelled him to share his thoughts to a Sith, of all people. But his words were genuine albeit the neutrality in his tone. Poet lifted his gaze to look at Gorr, two-toned eyes filled with an intensity that the Shistavanen wouldn't find intimidating but instead somewhat hopeful and sad.

"Will your Empire bring them home?"

He didn't need to clarify, but Poet and Gorr would know what the Star Defender meant by "them", the half-Morellian's palm softly resting on the dead woman's forehead.

@Charles

 

[Brynjolf Baan]

Gorr was at a loss for words after listening to the Star Defender speak. At first, rage and sorrow regressed through the White Wolf, but Poet seemed to understand loss. He understood the sacrifice that came with Death and the reward of Peace that followed. Though Gorr wouldn't say it aloud, he respected this man. Maybe piling the bodies so wasn't as great an idea as the Lieutenant had thought. Yes, it was easier to keep track of them so nothing else disturbed them, but maybe there were better ways to do so.

"Do not confuse pity with respect," Gorr grumbled. "I do not see pity when you lay my comrades to rest. I do not see pity in the way you carry yourself. You only pity the living- You respect the dead. I...respect the dead." Then, the wolf dipped his head towards Poet out of that same respect.

"Forgive me, Guardian... For I have taken your service for granted... For I saw an enemy in whom there was none." The Lieutenant fell to his knee and continued to bow his head. "I will deliver all who traded death for peace... They will be laid to rest and none shall disturb them, I swear."

@Forsythe Crowholde