Ask Raxus Dishonored Guard

[Jonathen Baize]

Raxus - Garrison Command Firing Range​

It was late; the range wasn't completely empty, but mostly so. Jon had completed his transfer, settling into his new role. He hadn't really come to peace with it yet, or anything for that matter. He had lingered here into the late hours of the night because he was not looking forward to the prospect of going home and facing another nearly sleepless night.

He had wanted to get more acclimated with the DA-34 Pistol. He had always carried a side arm, but it had been years since he carried one as his primary weapon. He always had qualified with solid numbers, but he wasn't going to settle for solid. Him and those his command would strive for excellence. There was another reason; the blaster fire drowned out the flood of thoughts and emotions that had bombarded him since Dathomir. The shame and uncertainty eating away at him.

Targets popped up, one after another. He fired, quickly aiming at the next one. This repeated, the targets moving quickly. As the last target fell, he glanced down at the score - 37 out of 40. An excellent score, but it wasn't enough. He ejected the battery pack and slid the next one into place as he prepared for another round of targets.

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

The Imperial training facilities were definitely an avenue where the funding was well spent. Soldiers had some of the best training resources and areas to practice. This building in particular had several different sections ranging from a shooting area to melee combat facilities loaded with droids. As Jonathen paused between firing, he would hear consistent thuds in the distance of another individual training in the adjacent area.

Altair arrived here because he expected the place to be empty. He had to get treated for his injuries after Dathomir, but the events left many wounds that no medicine could heal. His thoughts were with those he lost and the countless letters he wrote. It had all been to take down a single individual. Was it worth it? Would they be sent to do the same for someone like Darth Raze next?

His fists landed solid blows against the punching bag that was custom designed for him. As a Matukai, he could destroy most training equipment, so this one had to be especially fortified to withstand him. Even then, he didn’t use the Force as he did normally, simply testing his physical strength against the surface.

Each blow he landed was cathartic and released the stress he felt from Dathomir and the aftermath. He didn’t feel great about the trial either and he had to recuse himself simply because it would have allowed rumors of favoritism to diminish Jonathen’s career even further. He also didn’t know what happened after his orders were issued - his focus had been solely on Renfry. The entire thing left him more confused than upset.

The tiefling heard someone in the firing range, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. Sweat lined his body and the green hue of the lightning from Sheehan was still on his bare chest, vibrant against his obsidian skin. He needed to let off steam and this was his moment to do it.

@Raydo

 

[Jonathen Baize]

Score: 40 out of 40

He looked up from the display below him, finally satisfied for the moment. Next, he would practice until he did it five times in a row, but he was out of ammo and had already used more than enough for one day.

Jon turned, hearing the rhythmic thud of someone on the punching bag. It was by far his favorite exercise. Deciding he wasn't quite ready to go home and face an empty apartment, he put his blaster in a proper locker and stepped into the gym next door, planning on hitting some weights before calling it a night.

The strikes grew louder as he stepped inside; someone apparently was really giving the bag a run for its money. Jon started across the room before Altair came into view. Jon stiffened slightly, not expecting to see the Grand Marshall here.

They made eye contact, and Jon saluted as was proper, even in workout gear. "Good Evening, Grand Marshal," he said stiffly. "I didn't mean to bother you." he added. Jon felt somewhat awkward, wishing he now had just decided to go home earlier. Dathomir still weighed heavily on all of the IAF; the battle and the aftermath had certainly taken a heavy mental toll on Jon. He guessed it was even worse for the Grand Marshal.

If dismissed, he would continue to the weight racks and leave the Grand Marshal to his business.

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair was getting into his groove at last, sweat lining his torso. Everything weighed heavily on his mind, and he thought of where the Empire would go next. While he agreed with a new Emperor that wasn’t Force sensitive, he could only hope this wouldn’t turn into the old Sith Empire all over again. There was a danger to a Drast sitting on the throne once more.

He looked up when someone entered, surprise on his face. He had been so consumed by his thoughts that he didn’t even hear Jon come in. Altair wiped sweat off his brow, stepping back to regard the man and return his salute. If the tiefling had any opinions, they certainly didn’t display on his face.

“Hey, Jon,” He said in return, dropping the formalities. What happened on Dathomir wouldn’t erase everything Jon had done prior to that. Altair had only known him to be one of the most loyal soldiers in the Imperial ranks, and he had noted as much in the Dathomir report. Ultimately, he couldn’t actively participate when he had no insight into what happened after he gave his orders.

Altair gestured for Jon to join him against the punching bag if he chose. Jon would realize soon enough that the thing was tougher than anything he hit and normal humans would hardly scratch it or make it budge. The tiefling took a swig of water, “How’re you holding up?” He asked calmly. His demeanor was as welcoming as usual, inviting Jon to speak his mind. Altair seldom had a standoffish attitude towards his men.

@Raydo

 

[Jonathen Baize]

Jon dropped his salute, standing only somewhat awkwardly awaiting a dismissal that never came. When Altair gestured towards the bag, Jon stepped forward. "I'm alright, Sir," he said. "One day at a time..." he said, trailing off.

"How are you, Sir?" he asked in return. The weight of the IAF rested on his shoulders, and while Jon's regiment had lost a lot of soldiers, Altair had to contend with losses spanning the entirety of the IAF. That was a heavy weight to bear, even as someone as experienced as the Grand Marshal.

Jon waited for a response before stepping up to the punching bag. He spent large amounts of time training on the punching bag, having always found it therapeutic in a lot of ways. He had watched the way it swung as Altair had hit it when he walked in, so he assumed it was a fairly average bag.

Jon's got into a stance, muscles tightening as he threw his first punch. Pain shot up his arm as he slammed into what felt like a brick wall. To his credit, the bag did move but not by much. "God damnit..." he cursed instinctively. "What did you fill this with? Duracrete?" he said, massaging the feeling back into his hand. He looked down; nothing appeared to be broken as he slowly extended the fingers.

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair pondered on his question, exhaling, “I’m surviving, I suppose,” He said with a bitter laugh, “Dathomir weighs on me heavily,” He couldn’t exactly vent to Jon about how he had some self doubts while he was fighting Renfry. Nor could he wonder aloud whether sending in a team of Ciphers would have been smarter. Hindsight was 20/20. He had ideas for tackling future invasions, but he couldn’t bring back the soldiers that died, “It was sick…what the Nightsisters did,” He hadn’t been there to witness the reanimated corpses of their fallen brothers and sisters, but Jon would have seen it.

He was distracted when Jon hit the punching bag, his eyes widening, “Oh.. I forgot,” He muttered with a sheepish grin. Altair stepped back and looked at the other man’s form, “You want me to show you some Matukai tricks? You don’t need to be Force sensitive for it,” He mentioned. He used to be captain of the combat team at the Dromund Kaas academy, and quite frankly teaching was one of his favorite gigs back then.

“So what’s your story, man?” Altair asked, “Didn’t see you around too much back when we were doing the Sith’s bidding.”

@Raydo

 

[Jonathen Baize]

He grimly nodded to Altair's words. There were no words of comfort to make it easier; there was only the Imperial camaraderie they all shared and the fact they all knew their mission had been just. He looked away; the sights he had still haunted him, still kept him up at night. Even knew he could feel a cold sweat bead on the back of his neck. It was sick what they did, but would they not do the same if their home had been attacked? War was hell for all sides.

He rubbed the feeling back into his hand, looking to Altair as he apologized. He didn't get the feeling that this was some sick joke being pulled up as might have been done in the old Sith days. He shrugged. "Sure, what's Matukai?" he asked honestly. Apparently, it had something to do with the Force, like everything most Force Sensitives did. It was much the same with Kali. The Force was something that seemingly touched every aspect of their life. Jon guessed it made sense, even if he didn't quite understand much of it.

As they prepared, Altair turned the conversation. Jon was slightly disarmed by the Grand Marshal's casual tone and approach to the question. It was something a lot of soldiers didn't talk about that much. "You kept your head down for the most part in those days..." he said, turning to face him. It was no easy thing being a footsoldier in the Sith Army. He had seen commanders killed for not achieving the results their Sith Overlords thought they should have achieved, whether or not it was out of control.

"Even still, it took a while to rise through the ranks to an Officer level. I don't have the military academy training many of the other officers did," he said candidly. It wasn't bitter about that fact; he had taken a different path like all of them did.

@Sreeya