Open Ajan Kloss Honoring the Dead

[Oren Zapan]

Open to Jedi, Rangers, and @The Arcanist Only
​

There was a strange air to the jungle world of Ajan Kloss, the usual decorations or liveliness that filed the temple of peace had been filled with a somber reflection, the colorful tapestries that typically lined the halls of their temple had been replaced with banners of white--a symbol of purity and a passing on into the force, the Jedi believed that one's will would go on to join the Force in their passing, to rejoice for those who pass on, and to not fill oneself with resentment. These words were simple, and they were taught to every Jedi during training, but Jedi no matter the tales are still mortal creatures, and thus the pain could be felt across the yards and temple.

@Nashyr Ris and @Saul Devan had given their lives to defend Rangers and Prisoners as they fled the destruction of the Coruscant Prison, their lives were the first to fall at the hand of darksiders since Ben Solo's sacrifice all those years ago on Exogol. Jedi from all over the galaxy had arrived to pay respects to their fallen, and to celebrate their life, but that wasn't all. Members of the Sector Rangers and even the Free Worlds Alliance had come to pay respects to the fallen, and thus pictures of the fallen Rangers of Corellia and Coruscant had been put on full display across the commons area of the temple. The memorial service would be held inside the temple, where Jedi and Rangers alike could pay their respects to the dead, though there were some who could be found lingering around the rain swept courtyards of the temple.

Oren hadn't slept much, knowing that today was coming. He had been there on the front lines, he had witnessed the destruction that two Champions of the Darkside could bring, and he had been powerless to stop them, he should have had Nashyr and the others help on the evacuation, but they stayed with him and now they were gone. Not much had gone well during his tenure as the Jedi, though he knew that Nash would say that he had been holding it all against his shoulders, and that it wasn't true, but that's how he felt. Countless Jedi had gotten injured under his command and now two of them, were dead.

The Jedi Master saw the diplomatic ships slowly trickle across the atmosphere, their thrusters bursting through the stormy sky. He was alone at the Memorial Site for Jedi of all versions of the Order who had fallen in battle. He had been there since dawn, alone in reflection on his own shortcomings and failures--his black jedi robes soaked with the rain. Today would be a celebration on the Jedi and Ranger's life, lives that Oren felt he could have and should have saved. I'm sorry..

 

[Bast Emblai]

Bast had left her helmet in her ship out of respect. She felt vulnerable, yet not solely physically. Her heart had been aching since her escape. The escape she had made, but countless others had not. She had known none of the rangers who had died, but their profession-no-their lifestyle of devotion to justice and order bound them as brothers and sisters. She gazed over the pictures, hoping to recognize none but knowing she had likely seen a few lying cold in the prison. She simply stood solemnly.

The ranger had never been one to mourn or even express remorse in public, but standing in the beautiful temple, surrounded by flowers and the sharp pain of loss, tears welled up in her dark eyes.

 

[Kal Zyn Dross]

Kal wasn't the same after having escaped from that prison, helping Oren and whatever other survivors there had been get out before the blasts had gone off. He managed to keep consciousness until they'd gotten away, to a hospital, where he finally allowed himself to pass out from his injuries. Even though the blast hadn't been lethal, the lightning had injured the Tiss'Sharl greatly, spreading and burning him inside and out. He'd needed significant bacta and hospital treatment, though even now he was still fairly well wrapped in bandages with one arm in a sling. Gone was his usual smiling face, the mask he wore to let people know he was doing okay and that it would all be okay in general. Right now, he didn't feel it. What he saw on those cameras and in person, the brutality and raw power of the Red Sabers, shook him to his core. How could the defenders of peace, the Sector Rangers hope to combat an enemy that powerful? They'd all treated these terrorists as a small band, though there had been hints at something larger. He should have followed his gut this time.

Stepping off the transport, Kal searched some time before the ceremony for a certain person: Oren, who had been healing for longer than the Ranger had been. He couldn't bring himself to face the man fully, yet he forced himself to. Unable to meet his eyes, tears forming and falling from his own, Kal walked up to the Jedi Master to just stand silently for a short time. Eventually he spoke. "...I'm sorry...I can leave, if you want...I couldn't protect any of them..." He'd been the one in the command room, giving orders and helping the evacuation, using the Jedi to buy time for the innocent to escape. He took that responsibility to heart, and it was on his watch in that case that Saul and Nash had died. It was his fault, and he felt that the Jedi would hate him at the very least for not doing more to save their own. They didn't even have to be there.

@TWD26

 

[Douglas Hudson]

Just when everything was looking up, these Red Sabers had to go and kick the Ranges and Jedi both square in the jewels. There were too many questions that needed answering yesterday, such as how the terrorists had found out so quickly what prison the captive had been sent to, how they had managed to gather that many powerful explosives to nearly level the place, where they'd gotten such support and numbers, and just how they had been so powerful in general. One of his Rangers on the scene had managed to get some camera footage uploaded before they'd been destroyed, showing the brutality of the different leaders of the assault. Verbal accounts filled in what the cameras couldn't, painting a grim picture for any of the other Rangers or most Jedi that would go up against them in the future. With all this information and combat data, it was clear that some drastic changes would need to be made to keep up with this threat. That was a discussion for after the proceedings, though.

Douglas landed with his staff on the jungle world of Ajan Kloss, the man looking up at the cloudy skies that seemed to weep alongside those gathered today. Nashyr and Saul had been friendly with the Rangers, the former working together with his men and women to investigate the attack on the office on Corellia, which the latter had tried to help defend. The Chief didn't know if he'd ever told Saul he appreciated that he tried to help save his people, or thanked Nashyr for her readiness to help bring terrorists to justice. Another two regrets to add to the long list he carried on his heart, par for the course for his career. He'd had more successes than failures, yet it was always the latter that weighed the most on him.

Walking over to each other pictures hung up in memorial of those who had lost their lives so far, Ranger and Jedi both, Douglas would wordlessly lay down a simple violet flower, seemingly unremarkable in size or color, yet it had a deep meaning to the man. His daughter had loved the flower, one having been printed on the first blanket she'd ever been wrapped in, and it represented a promise to him. The reason he bore that regret, that pain, and worked so hard to not only bring peace to the Alliance but also keep his Rangers safe and sound. His daughter would never be able to grow up and enjoy the fruits of his labors, but others could, and he knew she'd be smiling at him for doing his best every day. He'd have to do his best for the sacrifices the Jedi had made on his behalf as well. That, in itself, was a form of Justice.

Finished with the flowers, Douglas made his way inside the central room where the ceremony would take place. He silently greeted Rangers he knew and any Jedi that came up to him, giving a somber smile that was so different from his usual roguish charm. Today wasn't the day for that. Today was for the fallen, and to honor their dreams and desires to make the galaxy a better place.

 

[Naeva Rue]

Thick drops of rain hammered the waterproof cloak the Prime Minister wore for a brief moment before her aide quickly unfurled an umbrella to shield the Togruta from the elements. With a dismissive wave of her hand, Naeva had the aide put the umbrella away. ”If the Jedi are wet, then so am I,” she stated firmly, much to the aide’s confusion; they’d never seen the Prime Minister so somber, nor had they seen the glint of grim determination that twinkled in her eyes. This was a day of remembrance, not just for the fallen Rangers, but for the Jedi who came to stand by their side and gave up their lives for the same people who, at one point, feared and hunted them. It felt like even the skies, as tumultuous as the weather was, wept for the lives lost in the recent attacks. There was something to be said about the poetry of it all.

There was something to be said about the courage needed to live the life of sacrifice that a Jedi lived, and though Naeva understood little about the order, she knew that they were cut from a different cloth than any other group she had met before, including the Rangers. She knew the stories, of course – everyone did – but to see that they were upheld in reality was something different altogether. She just wished such a revelation had not come after the senseless deaths of so many. This visit was more than mere politics; it was a way to connect the two organizations under one banner of brotherhood forged through fire and blood.

The Prime Minister and her aide traveled across the courtyard to the temple in quiet solemnity, stopping only to offer condolences to those Jedi and Rangers who stopped them, though with each encounter she would suggest they move inside for further conversation. Once within, she shook off the soaked cloak and hung it up to dry before moving farther inside. At each photo of a fallen Ranger, the Prime Minister halted to memorize their face and name, making a mental note to honor the families of the fallen in some way.

After several silent minutes, she made her way to where the memorial would be held, making no attempt to announce her arrival aside from quietly maintaining the dignified repose of one elected to the highest office of the Free Worlds Alliance. She clasped her hands in front of her body and waited quietly for the service to start. Not far from her position, she spotted Chief Hudson of Sector Ranger fame, giving him an acknowledging – and, in a way, apologetic – nod of the head before returning her attention to tonight’s activities.

 

[Talak Rand]

Talak felt completely out of place. A Jedi gathering? Members of the Sector Rangers? Free World Alliance? Was that the Prime Minister he'd seen land?

And then there was Talak Rand. The Arcanist as he was known by many. The fact that the two were one and the same wasn't yet widely known, and his invitation to this gathering was only the result of his actions at the prison. He suppressed his own presence in the Force so as not to cause an uproar. Despite having turned his back on the Sith, there was a great deal of darkness that still stained him. He put the hood up on his clothes to shield himself from the rain coming down.

He didn't know the Jedi who had fallen. He'd never met either of them or the Rangers who had died either. He knew that he was still sickened by what he'd seen in the recordings of Ender killing the men on Corellia.

He headed toward the main compound where the event would be held before stopping. A familiar presence - one of the few he might recognize from some place like this - caught his attention. He walked slowly and cautiously over to the the Jedi @Oren Zapan and stood next to him in the pouring rain. It wasn't near the main event, but somehow he felt his presence might be more useful here.

He could feel grief and even conflict in the man. Despite not knowing him well, they'd met once before. He could only assume that he had been close to the lost. Jedi may not have been supposed to feel attachment - or at least that was what Talak had been told about Jedi - but they were still people. It was what people so often forgot.

I'm sorry for your loss, he said quietly. The Jedi might recognize the voice or he might not. Either way, the words fell short of healing the very real wounds the man experienced. @TWD26

 

[Vinry Forge]

For the first time in a very long time, Vinry Forge stood in solidarity with the other members of the Jedi Order. Or at least she did in spirit. She was more or less and outsider among the Jedi, and had decided to stay on the periphery of the gathering. For it was not a gathering to celebrate a change in the way the Jedi operated as she had long sought. No, the Jedi had not change and had done what they always did, serve the light. It wasn't to witness the birth of a new generation of Jedi. No, that generation had already passed her by and done more than most ever could, more than she ever had. And it wasn't to face some great evil to protect the innocent and downtrodden. No, the Jedi had already done that. And payed for it with their lives. They were here to mourn the loss of many a bright light in the Force, but also to celebrate their lives. To celebrate their courage, their perseverance, and their steadfastness in the face of evil.

She though, she was here to face her own failing. She had run away for so long, thinking she knew better, thinking she was doing what was right. But where had she been when she was really needed, when the very thing she had vowed to fight was striking at their very heart? She was not the only one who felt that anger, at the ones responsible for this loss, and at themselves for not being able to do more. There was anger all around the memorial site.

She had felt it around her as she stood in the rain, her cloak long since soaked, the cold seeped into her very bones. This wasn't a Jedi gathering, though she felt it tint their stoic reserve. But it was not just Jedi here, there were Rangers, civilians, and dignitaries from the Free Worlds. They were nothing like the Jedi, and their emotions were bubbling at the surface. So she couldn't tell if it was the cold that sent shivers down her spine, or the feel of the Force around them.

She could have closed herself off from the Force, let herself go numb and shut out the pain radiating through the Force. But she wanted to remember this, learn from it. So she left herself open to the Force, open to those around her, open to...something very odd. She turned around, to look in the direction of the sensation, and her eyes fell on Oren Zapan, the Jedi Master who was probably the only Jedi in the gathering she actually knew. And also one of the only survivors of the attack. But it was not him that she had felt, though his pain and suffering had almost brought her to tears when she had first arrived and found him already there. No, she got the feeling that it was the man standing besides him who was the source of her uneasiness. He was trained in the Force, and powerful. Very powerful. But he felt like no Jedi she had ever known.

Almost glad for a distraction, she walked over to the two men, and came to a stop in front of them. She wasn't sure what to say to Oren, after all what could she say to him? But at the same time she knew she must say something. But even as she wrestled with the words, her eyes were locked on the man besides him, brows slightly furrowed in confusion and uneasy intrigue. "Are you alright?" She asked the Jedi Master, briefly facing him, but unable to suppress the uneasiness she felt in the Force. "I'm sorry," she finally gave in and addressed the stranger, "who are you?"

@TWD26 @Phoenix

 

[Rizkacha]

Riz'kacha, of course, was among the crowd. Her master (@Nashyr Ris ) was among the dead, along with another Jedi (@Saul Devan) she had met. She hadn't even known that Saul was dead until after she got back to Ajan Kloss. Her brief encounter with him during the joint interrogation with the rude ranger had certainly left an impression. He wasn't a bad Jedi. Not by any means.

Neither, of course, was Nash. Though she was often considered unconventional, the Cathar had more than earned her way into the ranks of the order. She fell protecting others. Some aren't so lucky. Riz'kacha hadn't known her master for long, but she still left an impression. "Strength is the courage to face something head on, even if you hold fear. Fear will control you if you let it." That's the first lesson she taught the Twi'lek when they had first met in a forest not far from here, and she died exemplifying it. She died because Riz'kacha had failed to follow it. Maybe if she had been better, the Cathar would be standing here instead of her. She was much more capable than the Twi'lek was, as far as she was concerned.

The Twi'lek hadn't approached Oren, the man who had brought her into the order. She couldn't bear to look at him. To her, seeing his grief-stricken face was a reminder of a failure. Her failure. She didn't expect him to forgive her. The numb tips of her fingers played idly with the zipper at the bottom of her jacket as she stood idly, head bowed down. She was told that the numbness would subside soon, but frankly that didn't bother her as much as the scene before her did.

If only I had been better.​

​

 

[Lyra]

Lyra had a few choice words for the very real nightmare laid out before her, but there was no point in saying it. A blanket of rain and grief had descended over the burial grounds, over the temple and the memorial inside. Lyra didn’t have to know them personally to feel the pain and heartache their deaths had left. Every Jedi lost was like a wound in the Force, scars that might never heal.

But her focus was on much of the living as it was on the dead.

Master Oren had been through too much. He had lost his right arm and sight in one eye, been imprisoned and mistreated for the wrong reasons, burned and electrocuted for the right ones. Of everything he went through, Lyra had never seen him as broken as she did now. There was a faraway look in his eyes, empty of the same light and kindness he first showed her when they met.

Lyra couldn’t even begin to imagine what he was going through.

Cloaked in white, her black hair matted in the rain, she ought to have said something. Give him words of encouragement, something about peace and purpose, but what could she say that he hadn’t already heard a thousand times? Instead, she kept her distance as one stranger after another swamped him in the burial grounds, each as quiet and somber as the last.

She should have been at the indoor memorial with everyone else, but Lyra didn’t think she deserved to honor their memory. Pictures or not, she couldn’t look at them in the eye. She hadn’t been there. She hadn’t fought alongside them. She failed them.

So had the Council, wherever they were.

 

[Oren Zapan]

A soft rumble would escape the sky, as Oren stood silent and alone at the shrine, his soaked fading brown hair clung to his skull as he thought over all the different faces. How long had it been since he stood there, he had lost count, but it didn't matter now. Someone slowly approached, and Oren could tell through the force--it was the Ranger from Corellia. He listened to Kal's words, the tenderness in his voice as he spoke to him. "There is nothing to be sorry for Kal," he'd say as he continued to stare towards the statue, "You did your job, and if it wasn't for you, the whole station would have been chaotic..your words guided people. Like I told you on Corellia, the skills and gifts you have make you who you are, you're the only one in the galaxy like you." He'd turn back towards the man, taking one look at his wounds, "You don't need to be sorry.."

He would let the man linger for a bit, watching him before he departed, he'd go back to staring at the statue, alone with his thoughts for sometime, he felt many connections through the force, but one caught him off guard--he hadn't felt it since Naboo, but here he was. There were rumors among the survivors, but he hadn't been able to confirm or deny it, but as he felt the man approach, he knew it was him.

The two of them would stand in silence for sometime, he wasn't sure what to say right away. "Thanks.." He'd say with a soft voice, the pain on his face was clear--and his markings glowed with a gentle agony. His words wavered slightly, but he held himself with confidence. "She and I were together, we both knew what could happen, still though it hurts..and I miss her more than I should," He could feel the pain in his voice, "But, she died like she lived, defending others with a fire and passion that I will carry on." He'd turn to face the man, to see him without his mask.

He knew back then that the man had the potential to redeem himself, though it would be difficult, and something one would always struggle with. He held no judgement against him, "You've taken first step to finding peace, and I congratulate you for it." He would have said more, but he heard the words of Vin call out.

"I will be in time," he'd say softly as he bowed his head, he was never too good with crowds. He'd peer towards Talak with a soft look, "He is a friend of the Order, he put his life on the line to protect the lives of those in the prison." He wouldn't say any more, his words were confident and he trusted the man, but he didn't want to push him. The path to redemption was difficult and one of the steps was requiring honesty from the speaker, and reflection from the listener.

tag: @Phoenix @Wit @Insalius

 

[Corran Velt]

Rain. Corran usually liked the rain. It meant the passing of the cold season on Commenor and it usually gave that nostalgic feeling for a more liberated youth. Before adulthood. Before facing hard truths. Before all this. He looked skyward only briefly, to let a few warm droplets slide down his cheeks. The young Ranger clenched his fists and turned his gaze forward to the pristine yet naturalistic building where the ceremony would be held.

Dressed in his usual strict and professional style, Corran looked buttoned up, as if his polished boots and firm jacket were restraining his feelings. When he entered the mourning hall, his eyes swept over the attendees first, which included Chief Hudson and the Prime Minister of the Free Worlds Alliance. Jedi he didn’t know comforted each other, almost in a matter more understanding than sorrowful. A few Sector Rangers had made there way here and Corran moved to join their company. He hadn’t been on Coruscant when the prison assault occurred. Countless lives had been cut short by some Force-enhanced murderers. More innocents killed in a war they shouldn’t be fighting. A battle between zealots with trillions of normal sentient beings caught in the middle.

Corran took up a spot near Bast (@Kestrel) but didn’t speak. He didn’t know her all that well, but it was apparent that she was holding a large burden. The reports said she had been at the prison compound and lived, mostly intact. The rookie Ranger looked at the images of the fallen, Jedi and Ranger alike, who weren’t so lucky.

A part of the young Ranger felt remorseful that he hadn’t been there. Like he could of done something. In reality, an image bearing his face could have been up there with his body laid to rest. The two pictures of the fallen Jedi produced more thoughts of action than sadness. If the trained Force-Users couldn’t defeat these Red Sabers, then the Sector Rangers couldn’t rely on them for protection - at least not entirely. The order and safety of the galaxy hung in the balance and the Rangers couldn’t sit on the sidelines and wait for the Jedi to sort this out.

No, the Free Worlds Alliance would need new tactics and methods to combat this new threat. Corran wasn’t there at the Coruscant Prison attack, but he would work to make sure that if something like it happened again, his comrades would be ready.

 

[Fiach Dubh]

A connection to the Force had many, many advantages. But it also came with aspects that Fiach could never have imagined and was only now coming to terms with from a practical level. Yes, as a Padawan she was taught all about attachments and every living thing’s connection to the Force.

But that was, at the end of the day, theory and it was not until she not only saw it in practice but actually felt it, that it truly hit home.

The mood was sombre yet not morose. Fiach knew one of the Jedi that died personally. She recognised the other’s face, but could not count either a true acquaintance. She’d worked with Saul Devan on a rescue mission once and — like most Jedi — was the embodiment of what she aspired to become.

Nor did she know any of the Rangers that had fallen on Coruscant — doing what those that swear to protect the weak and innocent do…namely be prepared to lay down their lives for the greater good. And for those being remembered today, that oath had been fulfilled with the greatest sacrifice.

Of course the Jedi believed that death was merely a gateway to a connection with the Force. Fiach was pragmatic in her understanding of this. She knew she would die one day — only the date was yet to be determined. And she served the Force in life and would serve it in death.

Fiach felt a part of the ceremony but also apart from it. Feelings and social interaction were hardly her thing and so she remained on the periphery. There…but on the outside looking in.

 

[The Gatekeeper]

It was a somber day on Ajan Kloss. Rain fell heavily in sheets from a gray sky, soaking the temple and joining the tears of the the living as they mourned those lost in the fighting. Sector Rangers and Jedi intermixed to pay their respects to those who had put their lives on the line to defend others and in doing so passed on into the Force. The Jedi Council had approved the memorial in an instant.

Besides, they strongly suspected it would have happened even if they had forbidden it.

Stepping through the rain, the four members of the Council joined their kin in mourning, dressed in all white variations of the traditional Jedi robes with cloak hoods drawn up to ward off the rain. They could feel the mixture of emotions in the air, sorrow and sadness mixed with pangs of anger and regret. Now was a tumultuous time for the Jedi Order and the Rangers both, and it was up to their leaders to guide them to a brilliant future.

As one the Council stopped before each picture, offering up a few words and a small gift to each fallen Ranger. They had fought just as bravely and just as hard as any Jedi, and they were deserving of just as much respect. Although the Sector Rangers and the Jedi Order had almost become enemies in the not so distant past, they were working together now to keep the peace and protect innocent lives from those who would steal them away. The dark forces in the galaxy had finally revealed themselves in a storm of fire and blood, but the light would not falter. They would need to shine brighter than ever.

The council finished their rounds and headed into the main building, joining the others and offering their silent greetings to the visiting Ranger Chief and the Prime Minister. They were to be a part of the memorial itself later, when others had gathered, but for now they would pay their silent respects to the two fallen Jedi on their own. Saul Devan and Nashyr Ris had shown themselves to be true Jedi no matter what else they had been in life, throwing themselves in front of impossible odds for the chance to save others. A Jedi's life was one of self-sacrifice, a shield before others. They would not be forgotten.

Grandmaster Oota Boan stepped away from the others, slowly walking his way through the rain over to what had become a small grouping around Master Oren Zapan(@TWD26). Oota's eyes, full of kind patience and no small sorrow, swept over to the figure(@Phoenix) standing beside him. The Grandmaster paused for a moment, then bowed his head slightly in a wordless but respectful greeting. This man had also put his own mortality on the line for the lives of others, and now was not the time to address other details. Few souls were beyond healing and redemption, such was the way of his people both old and new.

Oota turned to Oren, reaching out to place a hand gently on a rain-soaked shoulder, his four throats thrumming as he spoke. "I am sorry she was lost." his translator piped up in a serene-sounding droid voice, pausing for a moment as Oota took a deep breath. "I have confidence that you will honor her memory and her sacrifice, Master Zapan." He withdrew his hand and bowed again, walking his way into the memorial building proper and hung up his cloak with the others and standing with the rest of the Council.

Many things would need to be done and deliberated very soon. Recent events changed some things and reinforced others. But for now, in silence, they would say goodbye to those who had passed on into the Force.

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

"I must not fear."

Hannibal had shown up later than most. His usual morning routine had been skipped, which seemed to throw off everything else. He'd been sleeping plenty, or at least been in bed, but had eaten little the last few days. He could just about deal with all that. What had given him real pause was the swirl of negative emotions around the the memorial, something he was particularly sensitive to. He hesitated at the edge of the building, standing in the rain and letting the falling rain seep into his traditional black and white robes. His hands shook subtly beneath his sleeves and he took a deep breath, allowing the Force to flow through and revitalize him for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

"Fear is the mind killer." he thought to himself and took a slow step into the crowd, then another, then several more. He moved somewhat listlessly, feeling the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on him, but he needed to be here for others as well as for himself. Quiet strides brought him over to Master Zapan and the Arcanist after the Grandmaster had departed, hearing the last of his parting words. His eyes passed over the little gathering and he stopped in front of Oren(@TWD26), his expression stony. He was silent for several moments. Hannibal didn't think the Jedi Master needed to hear another person telling him how sorry they were the love of his life had died, something the young Knight considered an empty if respectful platitude.

"I think she'd be proud of you. Be brave, and never forget." he encouraged quietly from beneath his black hood, turning to look at the Arcanist(@Phoenix) next to him. Hannibal gave the man a long look, understanding the reason he was here. He had no complaints about his presence, he only hoped now that he perhaps understood the Jedi point of view a little better than he had back on Nar Shaddaa. "Some peacekeepers are warriors too." he remembered saying at the time. This was what he meant.

He offered a silent nod in greeting and moved off into the memorial proper. "Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration."

Before each picture of a fallen Ranger he put up a small offering, things he'd spent his time after the hospital gathering to keep himself occupied. Flowers from native worlds, tokens, geometric and multicolored stones, and other objects of the worlds they'd died fighting to keep safe. Hannibal may not always trust the government nature of the Rangers, but he had been perfectly willing to work and fight alongside them as fellow keepers of the peace. They had been brave, and they would not be forgotten. "I will face my fear."

Hannibal sighed softly to himself, the Force passing gently through him and carrying away some of what made him feel so heavy. "I will allow it to pass over me and through me." He looked up, finding the tall Riz'kacha(@WiffWaffs) among the others and walking over to her. He placed his hand on her shoulder and gripped it gently, both in support and to gently guide her into the building. He could feel her self doubt through the Force, and personally believed it could not be more misplaced. The young Padawan had been brave, just as her master had. "Come on." he said, and walked into the main temple. "When it has passed I will turn my sight inwards to see its path."

Hannibal slipped off his dripping black cloak as he entered to hang it up, leaving him covered only in his stark white, long-sleeved tunic. He didn't hesitate this time, stepping over the threshold into the gathering. "Where the fear has gone there will be nothing." Another deep breath, another moment of focus, another step forward. He stood himself amongst the others, hands slipped into the sleeves of his robes and clasped around his forearms out of sight.

Nashyr(@Killa Ree) had fallen and Saul(@Nightfall) with her. He had known the former much better than the latter, but he would miss them both. They were both part of what he quietly considered his family, even if he didn't always show it, and their deaths hit him hard. He'd loved Nash, not in the way Oren had but as a good friend and a kind soul, someone he'd always looked forward to seeing and a bright light in a dark galaxy. Hannibal hoped she was at peace in death, feeling she deserved nothing less. Saul himself had fought for the lives of citizens and Rangers both on more than one occasion, and although Hannibal did not know him personally his actions were deserving of praise and respect.

"Only I will remain." He finished his silent recitation and exhaled slowly, finding peace and solace in the gentle embrace of the Living Force. He would not sully the memories of the lost by sinking into fear and despair, he couldn't. Hannibal would instead honor them by celebrating their life and what they had fought to protect. He stood silently amongst his fellow Jedi, their solidarity and sorrow permeating the room, and awaited the beginning of the ceremony.

 

[Ori Ardell]

Ori stood in front of the pictures of the fallen Jedi. When Maxims Tionson had brought him to Ajan Kloss many months ago, he hadn't even really been sure what a Jedi was. He thought that after his initial training was over that he might finally have an idea of what it meant to be a member of the Order, but he still wasn't convinced.

Now he knew.

Nashyr and Saul had laid down their lives so that others could live. That was what being a Jedi was. It wasn't about being the most skilled with a lightsaber or the most powerful Force user. It was the willingness to put yourself in harms way to protect others. To use the powers they were blessed with for good.

The two fallen Jedi exemplified that standard and although Ori had never met either of them, he was proud to know that they were part of the same Order. He hoped that if he ever found himself in a similar situation to them, he would be able to show the same bravery they did.

"May you find peace in the Force." Ori whispered as he bowed his head to the pictures of Nashyr and Saul.

After paying his respects, he moved away from the pictures to allow space for others to approach and stood amongst the crowd that was beginning to gather in the common room.

 

[Rizkacha]

Riz'kacha would've been content to stay in the rain, but at Hannibal's (@Mr. Teatime) touch she made an effort to move. There was a tiny bit of pain associated with the touch - her muscles were still sore from the lightning - but she didn't say anything. Instead, she followed the man inside listlessly, her eyes drifting from one face to another. Some she recognized, like Lyra (@Feng Mian), and there were plenty she didn't. The padawan hadn't met very many rangers in her time, and they were just as present as the Jedi were.

Once they got inside and found a new place in the crowd, Riz'kacha eyed the monuments to the fallen with regret. I should've done more. I should've trained more. I should've focused less on philosophy. Her mind continued to play back the battle in her mind, and she continued to pick out what she perceived as mistakes on her part. Truth be told, she had been scared. "Fear will control you if you let it." Nash was right.

 

[Talak Rand]

Talak felt a chill down his spine that had nothing to do with the rainwater seeping through his clothes. It was because of the many looks he was receiving from the people nearby. He felt like he was imposing on the mourning of others with his presence. The woman (@Wit) who came up to speak to Oren seemed skeptical at best, but before Talak could formulate an answer, the Jedi Master spoke up in his defense.

He placed his hand on the Jedi Master's shoulder. They may not have known one another well, and he hoped the gesture would be taken in the spirit it was given. Reassurance. He knew the loss that Oren felt. He had loved and lost once before, and the memory had lingered with him for years. It was only in recent days that he truly felt as if he'd begun to recover, but that still left its scars that would never fully heal.

The Jedi Master's (@TWD26) words about the path he had started walking elicited a nod. He didn't know where his place in the galaxy was yet. He knew that despite the repercussions he didn't regret stepping in to fight at the prison.

Perhaps we can speak later, he said quietly. You may feel alone, but you're not, he said. He knew how isolating that pain could be. Talak could tell the Jedi Master was a beacon to the Order. He drew others to himself even if he didn't want to, and Talak was glad that the man had survived the fight. He gave a final squeeze to his shoulder and stepped back to allow others to speak to the Jedi. He hoped they would be able to speak again once the memorial was over and perhaps once more healing was done.

He saw the Jedi Grandmaster (@Oota Boan) step up and give him a nod, and felt... very uncomfortable again. All of this felt surreal and he returned the nod respectfully.

Hannibal (@Mr. Teatime) came by a moment later and gave Talak a nod. The two of them... had an odd history, but it was Hannibal who had saved Talak's life at the prison. He extended his hand to the Jedi, perhaps one of the only two "friends" he had here. Even that might have been a liberal term, but someone who knew more about Talak than just to consider him a mysterious and out of place stranger.

 

[Juniper]

Nara didn't intrude much. She wasn't good with these sorts of times. Regret and sadness tinged everything and it just made her feel... tired. She felt bad that she wasn't more angry. Countless people had died, giving their lives for others. Two of them Jedi, two Jedi she knew. One of them was... well, it's complicated to explain. But Nash meant everything to Oren, so Nara had always liked her and respected her. Or at least, disrespected her to a lesser degree than she did most others.

Now she was gone. Like Saul. Like so many Rangers. She didn't know what to say.

She lingered around the edges, watching people and deliberately staying back from Oren. There'd be time later. She'd be there for him, whatever happened, but she didn't want to go up there and just say the same things as everyone else. It felt... inadequate and hollow. The procession of people offering their condolences kept on going, including some gussied-up Togruta lady and... was that the Grandmaster?

Oh, nice of him to show his face, Nara thought peevishly, but she stopped herself from saying more. It wasn't the time for snide bickering, even in her mind. She just watched, worried, the rain pattering down on them all as the somber crowd of Jedi and Rangers filtered through. With a breath, she stepped inside the Temple, slipping through the gathering crowd. As she did, she made a silent prayer to whatever was listening.

For Nash. For Saul.

 

[Roland Rook]

THEME​

Rain hit the shaded hood of the Mandalorian. They turned into beads that would run to the edge of the well worn cloak. The faded mythosaur symbol surrounded by the symbol of Roland's clan sigil almost looked like it had genuine snake scales writhing across it . A chilling breeze moved through the rain and across him causing his cloak to move slight, showing the blued armor of the Ranger. Inside the armor Roland shivered slightly but did not move from his spot despite the cold.

On his belt he had the saber used by the Knight of Ren he had slain. Some would perhaps mistake it for a trophy but that was far from the case. The more Roland had come to learn about about the Jedi and force sensitives the more he realized there were abilities he could not have imagined. Chief among them, something called psychometry. Not entirely sure how it worked he still requested the evidence to be brought to Ajan Kloss to see if one of the Jedi could try to uncover any clues from it with their ways that were still strange to him.

The Mandalorian had not known those that had lost their lives very well. Roland had met Nashyr during their meeting over Oren Zapan's arrest. She had seemed like a nice enough person from and part of him was bothered by her loss. They had spoken about their organizations working together which now seemed to bee the direction the Jedi Order and the Rangers were heading towards. After fighting the Knight of Ren on Coruscant it put things in perspective of the type of adversaries the Sector Rangers would be facing in the weeks to come. He pulled the lip of hood a little further forward, casting a long shadow against his helmet and walked inside to join the others that had arrived before him.

Part of him felt like he could have been better prepared to fight the dark siders at the prison. Even though he had emerged victorious with his the one on one fight it felt like it had not been enough. People had died, the prison had been broken into, and the assailants had escaped. The Mandalorian was not delusional. He could have died just as easily on that landing pad if things had been slightly different. Things needed to change.

Behind his ornate cross visored helmet, he looked over the pictures and holo-projections of the Rangers that were also being remembered. Sorry He thought to himself silently as he passed each one. His head tilted down to look at his forearm. Handpainted black, grey and gold scales. There were only a few of the scales and they did not cover the entire forearm plate. Roland was thankful for that. Inside each of the scales were the initials of a dearly departed friend or family member in Mandalorian runes. Grey was for mourning but that did not stop his hand from balling into a fist and returning to his side in anger.

The man that had escaped. That man. Ender, he was still out there and it angered the Mandalorian. It made him really just want to leave the memorial and fly off in his firespray to hunt him down. But the momentary fury cooled as soon as it had risen. Indulging that feeling was not who he was. At least I hope I'm better than that...

Looking up Roland would see plenty of faces he recognized among the living. Some he had met and others he had simply known about. The Grandmaster of the Jedi, the Prime Minister, the tragedy had affected more than most realized. The lawman was not entirely sure how to talk to the Jedi or strangers. Mandalorians tended to handle their dead a certain way but even so, the Order and the Free World Alliance were still different from one another in how they handled things.

"Wish I had known you were a Jedi back on Nar Shaddaa and not some bounty hunter." He said with a lighter tone than he had expected. He came to stop beside Hannibal, facing the same direction as hee was. Roland had learned about the man's participation in the Prison and the injuries he had sustained. A purple twi'lek was near him too though he did not feel the urge to introduce himself. "Did you know them well?"

@Mr. Teatime @WiffWaffs

 

[Thalia Windraider]

Thalia had taken one of many shuttles to the Jedi world of Ajan Kloss and she was apprehensive to even come today. She still was in a lot of pain, bacta did its part, but she was still healing, the bandages wrapped around her torso and her muscles had not stopped hurting since she woke up in the hospital. Luckily her wounds were able to be hidden, not drawing attention to herself as she arrived to the Jedi world. Additionally her apprehensions also rested in the fact she was arriving on a Jedi world; she was still uncertain about them, a distrust she felt commonly with most individuals, but she wondered if it was in part to her own sensitivity in the Force that just made her more self-conscious about this place.

Standing in the rain, she was cautious about feelings, there was almost a hum or warmth, but she could feel the grief that those in attendance carried. Always thinking about what everyone else is feeling and not yourself... the inner voice reminded her and yet, feeling inside would be what she needed. She wasn't ready to face those feelings and she must have been standing in the rain for just a moment too long as someone directed her to where the memorial will be held. Her step was slower, she would never have guessed how many core muscles were required to function.

The Ranger would make her way to inside the temple where the memorial service was held. There some faces she recognized instantly such as the chief and prime minister, but others were less familiar more so those she had never met. She looked up at the image of Saul (@Nightfall), she had heard he did not make it and that was difficult for her to accept. Even at the prison, she had spoken to him, he helped her and she tried to help him, only to be bested by the dark siders. His life was cut too short.

She glanced down at her fingers, unconsciously rubbing them together as though she were trying to bush off some unseen force. Survivor's guilt was a horrid burden.

She stepped away and found herself a quiet spot in the back as she watched others arriving for the service to be held soon.