New Home, Old Heart

[Silverface]

Nilash III
Clan Bralor Basecamp​

Nilash's jungles were smothering. A thick canopy encompassed the majority of the planet, hiding the surface beneath a green shroud. It was a backwater, a planet nobody truly cared about. It was as good a place as any to start over, to keep one's head down and regroup. Which is exactly what was happening, with the shattered remains of Clan Bralor having set their claim on this insignificant backwater. Beneath the green, a small compound had been built up, using local materials and damaged transport craft to assemble a new home.

It was a rough affair, with a thick palisade wall built from sturdy trees and sections of hull plating from a downed assault transport that would never fly again, roughly a five hundred meters across from edge to edge, forming a solid compound wall. A parapet provided a defense against the frequent Gundark attacks and made it easy to maintain a ever cautious look out into the jungle. Being here only a few weeks and the alpha predators of these jungles had tested the defenses with frequency.

It made for good training, good food too. Nothing went to waste. The interior of the compound was speckled with low-set homes, made from the same materials as the rest of the compound. The assault transport that donated it's weapons and armour plate to the compound was set in the middle of the compound, turned into a multipurpose facility for those things that couldn't be done in the bunker-like homes Mandalorians favored.

An ever-present gloom and mist settled over the hastily built, rough-edged home. The Clan's ships were hidden and secure. The compound was sturdy and, although a little pungent, home.




Echoylir sipped from a tin-plated mug of caf, scowling at the bitter taste as he looked out over this new home from one of the lookouts. For once, he wasn't wearing his distinctive armour, the suit finally being set aside to gather dust. Instead, Lir wore a faded, patchy brown jumpsuit. He felt naked without his body armour, it had been his companion and his 'skin' for the vast majority of his life, protecting him from all sorts of threats, but it had to be done.

Nostalgia's pang competed for his attention with his grief however. Out of nearly three hundred people, barely a fraction of that managed to escape and get here, to this backwater. From what there was, to the handful going about the daily tasks that had to be done to maintain life in this humid, secluded place. Just under fifty survived, a handful of ships. Out of them, two were stuck in the infirmary with injuries from the escape.

It frustrated the elder Mandalorian no end that his kin were so broken, so low. It would be easy to just wish revenge on the Imperium, to haul on his armour and reforge himself as one of the Kyr'tsad, the Death Watch. Embark on a dark path to pointless personal revenge. As Lir shook his head, a rueful smile graced his craggy features. Dedicating himself to vengeance and thinking that his pain, his loss, was more important than anything else was incredibly selfish, hypocritical even considering what the Mandalorians had unleashed on the galaxy only a decade ago.

"No.. this has to be smart. Thoughtful. Not riven by emotion" Lir grumbled to himself as he drained his caf, letting out a harsh growl-like grunt as the bitter tasting, hot drink was downed. Looking out over the compound again, and then over his shoulder at the unrelenting, fathomless, gundark infested jungle beyond the wall, Echoylir shook his head again and made his way down from the parapet into the compound proper.

There was a lot to do. Hunting parties to organize, priorities for the forge, contacts to reach out here on the Rim, on Sullust, Utapau and other worlds.

"Damn this humidity though" came yet another grumble as Echoylir started to make his way across the compound...

 

[huntressofworlds]

It had been a long hike through some forbidding terrain. Leaving her shuttle off and by itself wasn’t entirely a joyous thing. Moreso because in fact she had to carry what equipment she needed to the compound, but mostly because there was so much more convenience in it than the equipment at the compound. The heavy pack strapped to her backside was almost too much for her to carry, indeed it was weighing the doctor down, reminding her of the days during the Clan Wars in which she’d had to backpack across far more familiar territory, but no less as perilous. She’d taken a few stops along the way to sit and rest, finding something to perch against so she could regain her strength. Her helmet’s display showed her the route laid out by the Clan some time ago.

Still, she memorized the last bit of it, reaching up and twisting her helmet to break the seal and then hook it at her hip, it was miserable inside of it, the humidity was near dripping off the inside glass of her visor and her face was literally soaked, it looked as though she’d stuck her head beneath a pool of aqua. Taking a cloth from one of the more accessible compartments on the side of her pack she tugged out a white cloth and wiped her face off with it, draping it over her shoulder before finally pushing herself back up and continuing onward.

It was a good quarter of an hour later when she finally punched through the tree line and into the area of the compound. She expected more’n a few eyes to lock on her as she headed steadily on her way towards the compound gates. With her helmet off and that vibrant red hair she expected to be noticed. Her light armor was crested with red, though held a dark grey main body with black accents. Her pack however was a worn white, with it’s red logo upon both sides and the back, a logo which was more than a thousand years old. Medic.

Jin supposed she could’ve upgraded the thing, it had been old when it had been given to her as a gift, back during the wars she’d used it, and it gave her a familiar comfort with it, though it wasn’t entirely discrete in appearance, not that she had ever really felt the need to ‘blend in’ to her surroundings. The right mind, a good blaster at your side, and not doing something dumb had always served her well in the past. Blaster had already come in handy since she’d arrived here with a Gundark that had thought it more than a pleasant idea to try and devour the white packed humanoid that was nimbly making her way through the trees.

Now that had been something Jin could’ve lived without experiencing. She hadn’t killed the thing, but it had left with a reminder that even the smallest of Mandalorians could very well leave a sting that it wouldn’t forget. At least within the periphery of the compound she wouldn’t have to continually watch her back, a place where the wolf head painted on her shoulder bells with their red claw-stripe could speak for her instead of her blaster or her prowess in engaging someone that was willing to put a blaster bolt through her noggin.

“Copaani gaan?!” She finally called out, as dire a situation it was that they were there, she was almost relieved, even perhaps a little bit overjoyed to see those figures above, there were many gone from their people, but that some had survived, well.. It was a bitter victory, but one none the less. Vivere Est Vincere. To live is to Conqueror.





Copaani gaan? - "Need a hand?"

 

[Kiro]

The one Bralor member whom had taken the change from Mandalore to Nilash III with the most ease, was Vhipir, the young wolf pup that had stowed away aboard the Claw, and had been adopted by Parja. The pup had adored the fact that it could simply be somewhere that wasn't a cramped and smelly ship full of two-legs. And after having arrived at Nilash III, the exiled Clan quickly learned that young Vhipir (whom had been named in memory of Echoylir's deceased akk dog) adored gnawing on gundark ears.

And that was exactly what the young canine was doing while Parja was busying herself with applying the final touches to her armour's new paint-scheme. It had formerly been simply blue, in the Clan's old tradition of following the Neo-Crusader pattern of colouration, where one's armour colouration signified their position on the battlefield, where Parja had been a simple warrior. But with the majority of the Clan, and indeed, the entire Mandalorian culture and people destroyed and decimated, the young half-Danthiri had decided to abandon the Clan's tradition, for another which had been common amongst the Clans following the Supercommando concepts. With a last spray of charcoal grey to her breastplate, which she places on the ground next to the rest of her suit, she nods to herself, satisfied with her work.

Charcoal grey and matte black. According to the Supercommando tradition, the colours signified mourning and justice, with emphasis upon mourning. It was a perfect reflection of Parja's current emotional state. While she hid it well around most of her Clan-mates and extended family, her heart was full of grief, pain, and impotent anger. All Parja had known in her life was war and death, more so than most Mandalorians should ever have. She had lost two mothers to war and the Imperium. Two homeworlds. And the second of both hurt far more than the first. While she wouldn't tell anyone this, not even her beloved grandparents, Parja had little to no hope of a better future or a better lie. She couldn't see anything but war and death ahead. To say that she was disillusioned and jaded was likely a grand understatement.

As she reached out to give Vhipir a scratch behind his ear, while the pup gnawed on a gundark ear, Parja glanced up to the parapets where Echoylir was sipping a mug of what she assumed was caf, glancing across their new home, she could only wonder what was running through her grandfather's mind. She knew he was plotting something. He was always plotting something. And he still cut an imposing and impressive figure, despite having abandoned his old bone amour.

"So... you wanna go hunting soon, boy?" Parja murmurs softly to the pup, as she waits for her armour's paint to dry under a directional heater, the thick mists making paint difficult to dry under it's own power. "Thank the Manda this backwater's got good hunting. I wanna see how I can take on a gundark on my own..." She murmurs, one hand scratching the pup behind his ear still, while the other rested on the top of her knife's hilt.

 

[Apollyon]

Kell had worked countless hours in the medical bay aiding his temporary partner, a woman named Jin; tend to warriors, women and children whose injuries were substantial. He had treated countless fractured bones, gashes, and infections with the limited medical resources available to band of what he had once believed to be mercenaries. Kell had used two of his vials of bacta spray to create medical gauze soaked in the healing substance and used it them only on the most grievous of injuries to ensure that the medicine was stretched out to cover the massive need for the “miracle substance”.

Kell walked down the infirmary halls, giving his patients one last look over, reading their medical charts and ensuring their conditions particularly a pair of warriors who had been placed in critical care. Although he didn’t know much about the two warriors the pair had been placed in side by side beds and had been placed in a medically induced coma shortly after being brought into the infirmary. Kell remembered watching as the two broken bodies were laid onto the beds, he remembered both he and Jin tirelessly working to save their lives, but most importantly he remembered the man repeating something to him in Mando’a urgently before the sedatives kicked in. When Kell had asked a nearby warrior what he had asked the man replied with the loose translation.

“Ner cyare oyayc? Kaysh jahaala?” The warrior had stated before pausing and dropping his gaze to the floor. “He wanted to know about her.” The warrior continued after what sounded like swallowing a lump that had formed in his throat. He lifted his head and pointed over to the female warrior on the bed beside the unconscious man. “He wanted to know if his beloved was alright, if she would live.” The warrior continued gazing into Kell’s eyes.

Since that day almost two weeks ago Kell had spent every moment of his free time devoted to the pair, devoted to reuniting them. Now the two were beginning to show the first signs of stabilization, the first stages of recovery, and to Kell the first signs of hope to an almost hopeless situation. Kell hadn’t realized it but he had paused in his rounds and had been staring at the two forms on the beds for several minutes. As he slowly pulled himself away from the memory of when they arrived he rapidly blinked his eyes before glancing up at the clock on the wall between the two beds, his shift was almost over.

Kell finished up his rounds, checking on the patients before making his way back to the entrance of the infirmary and jotting down the status of each of his patients and the developments both positive and negative. Before stepping out of the infirmary for a bit he turned to one of the warriors with moderate medical knowledge, he told him to keep an eye on the facility, took a single communicator and jotted down the contact number for the man should anything go awry. Kell had waited a month and a half to ask the leader of the clan questions pertaining to the Clone Wars and how things had gotten this bad, dozens of questions danced through his mind as he stepped out into the humid climate of Nilash III.

Kell wasn’t in his armor as he had been almost every day before their arrival on Nilash, instead he wore the armor’s black bodyglove which served as both light protection and a breathable field uniform. Everything about the planet screamed heat stroke if he wore the heavy armor as the military demanded of him and dying before his debrief wasn’t exactly the most favorable of options. Despite the aid he had given the clan during his time with them he still felt out of place, not so much unwanted but as if the warriors of Bralor had never seen a Clone Trooper before or perhaps had and secretly hated them. Whatever the case was Kell had remained on his best behavior and his toes, while he was duty bound to aid any possible ally of the Republic as both a trooper and a medic he also had no want to die quite yet.

Kell wandered the camp for several minutes asking what remained of the Clan where they had last seen their leader, it took a few minutes but eventually he was pointed towards the main gate. Kell made slowly made his way to the gate house rehearsing both how he would greet and ask his questions to the old warrior. A young boy must have heard Kell’s mumbling as he rehearsed because he soon ran off snickering into his family’s small house as Kell passed him. When Kell arrived at the gatehouse the guard didn’t have to point to Echoylir’s form coming up towards the camp, Kell had already picked it out and had left to go meet the man.

“How are you holding up?” Kell asked, unintentionally giving the aged warrior the same greeting he gave his patients when he checked in on them.

 

[huntressofworlds]

In those weeks Jin had gotten to know their newest member, she’d seen many odd things in her years, but she’d never met someone from well over a millennia in the past. She could tell Kell had a lot of weight on his shoulders now, he seemed more quiet than she would have expected at times. She’d taken it upon herself to research what data she could on the clone troopers of his day during her trip to her shuttle to retrieve more supplies. She’d researched for well over an hour on what she could get into regarding the Clone Wars. She had to admit, having such records on her new found comrade without actually having to perform all the tedious tests on him was a very unique experience for her.

Until now she could at least be honest when she’d answered those questions Kell had given her about his brothers, with an ‘I don’t know’. He was a good guy though, far as she could tell. He knew his way around a medical bay too. Seemed the two of them shared in a few practices, though for the most part, Kell was some thousand years behind the medical times. A lot of breakthroughs and advancements in medicine had come since he’d gone into stasis. Jin, however, did not question Kell’s tactics, though she might have considered a few to be ‘crude’. Even so, it was nice to have someone in the medical bay with her, someone who knew what he was doing, and how to properly maintain things. Someone she trusted well enough to mind things there while she took the hike back to her ship for supplies.

Supplies which she would be glad to finally get off her back. Observant as ever she had taken note of her clone counterpart heading towards her through the gates as she was heading in, her eyes meet with Kell’s as she neared, a slight smile given and a nod, “Su'..!..Err..” Jin quickly corrected, still a bit unaccustomed to talking in basic only. Though she was making progress, “...I mean, How’s it going?” she asked in passing, already able to tell that Kell had much on his mind. She headed onward towards the infirmary to restock it’s supplies.

Dropping her pack next to the counter she went to check on the two patients whom were still unconscious. Checking their bioreadings she found improvements with them, comparing their charts she’d also noticed Kell’s notes on the readings. It was good news indeed, she knew how Kell had given extra care to them well above and beyond what was called for, maybe it was starting to pay off after all.

She had watched him from time to time. Perhaps it was the loss of his fellow troopers, or perhaps he just needed something to focus on, to believe in. Whatever it was, she had left Kell in charge of their basic day to day care. Perhaps even a little bit of her hoped, just as much as the clone did, that they would be reunited. Jin though, through a lifetime of loss on both the battlefield and in some of the nicest medical centers on Jakelia had grown probably a bit too unattached to it. It still bothered her greatly those she’d lost in the past, her own way of dealing with it now was to try and do her best, if it wasn’t to be, then she tried to make them as comfortable as possible till the day they went to meet their makers.

This wasn’t to say that Jin was cruel or uncaring, far from in fact. It wasn’t easy to be a doctor trained to save lives, only to discover that you didn’t even have the basic compounds and equipment to do your job. The Clan Wars were a hard thing to bear, it was why she’d left the Mandalore Sector to begin with. Those months she’d spent, trying to learn new techniques, gather new supplies, new equipment, and to obtain various plants that could thrive on Nilash III. Plants that very well could make the difference some day when they started running out of supplies again.

Speaking of supplies though, she’d turned back to her pack, unzipping it and starting to retrieve the medical inventory she’d retrieved from her shuttle, including the packs of kolto and bacta, both which were depleted within the infirmary after the surgeries both she and Kell had attempted on their patients. It had been a long night that one, longest she’d had in recent memory, she honestly wasn’t certain she could’ve done it without Kell’s assistance in it. It had been a surreal thing when they had finished, stabilizing the wounds which otherwise might have killed both the man and woman on the tables. She remembered collapsing next to Kell on that bench outside of the infirmary after those long hours into the night.

Her eyes had lofted skyward, never really having taken the time to just look up and study them. She supposed this was home now, probably really the first time it had really sunk in to her mind. She had asked Kell about his home, if he had one. She’d listened as he told her about Kamino, about the world covered in water, about the cities above the waves. About his brothers that lived there. It had sounded like a wonderful place, maybe sometime the two of them could go there. The cloners certainly seemed a medically advanced society, surely there would be knowledge gleamed from them.

She knew more now than she had that night, almost two weeks ago. While the news of it was potentially troubling, she didn’t let it weigh her down too much. Sorting the supplies, putting them back in their proper compartments, making a few checks on things before she had slipped into the rear of the infirmary, a more stationary RMSU really, a place where she could let the sonic shower set up in the rear wash away the lengthy day’s dirt and sweat from her hike back to her ship. She’d stripped down out of her armor, out of her jump suit beneath and stepped inside, placing her forearms against the wall and closing her eyes, tilting her head forward and resting it against her hands pressed together, exhaling out and savoring the feel that came with those pulsing waves that took those layers from her body. To be honest she’d been looking forward to this ever since she’d set out this morn, the humidity always made everything feel so sticky.

 

[Silverface]

Echoylir had been strolling by a sadly unguarded stew pot when Kell had caught up to him, the elder Mandalorian having pulled out a battered, stained folding spoon and about to help himself to the latest in Gundark-themed cuisine. "How am I holding up? Well, all things considered. My family's scattered across the galaxy, my home's an ashen wasteland by now and the only hope I have of securing a good future for my motley band of savages lies on siding with people who are entirely justified in hating my guts" comes the brusque reply from the old warrior, who dunks his spoon into the bubbling stew and helps himself to the spoils his spoon 'liberates'.

As he took in the mouthful, the owner of the cook pot returned, a young Twi'lek Mandalorian who hurled highly verbose abuse at his alor, accusing him of food theft with a grin on his face. Echoylir swore right back at the other Mandalorian, returning the grin before shoving his spoon into his mouth to give his hands a moment to fish out a bag of nuts and berries, tossing it to the Twi'lek. "Needs something sweet in it to take the acid out of the gundark, vod! And next time, leave a lid on the pot lest I liberate the contents completely!"

"Chakaar!" was the reply.

"This is why I love my family" Lir muttered, grinning as he turned back to the wayward clone they'd picked up. Echoylir knew his history, knew what the Clone Army was, what it did. "Kell, was it? You've got questions written all over your face boy. Come, we'll walk and you can ask them" the elder warrior said, directing the clone towards the central Shriekhawk transport that doubled up as so many specialist facilities, including the medbay where Kell had just come from. Although Lir was directing them both towards the forges, not the infirmary.

 

[Apollyon]

"How am I holding up? Well, all things considered. My family's scattered across the galaxy, my home's an ashen wasteland by now and the only hope I have of securing a good future for my motley band of savages lies on siding with people who are entirely justified in hating my guts" Echoylir replied as he sampled a thick stew made from Gundark parts.

Kell had expected the man to reply in a gruff manner and direct manner, in his short time with the clan he had come to know that all of them were slightly more direct and to the point. However, the Clone was unsure how to reply the slightly sharpened statement. An apology wouldn’t aid the pain that the aged warrior felt and Kell couldn’t state that he knew what a loss of that magnitude felt like in a sincere manner. Instead of a verbal reply Kell simply gave his host a short, almost hesitant nod as an acknowledging reply.

Kell watched as the stew’s owner came out mock raging over Echoylir’s sampling of his stew he listened to the short banter between Echoylir and the man. A small smile appeared on Kell’s face, the clan wasn’t too different from his own family, direct, slightly rowdy at times, but generally caring towards one another. The short “banter” between the two warriors reminded Kell of the mess halls at Clone bases and the arguments that arose between his brothers; he couldn’t help but miss that same familiar face each of them had. However, his short stroll down memory lane was ended as the man hollered a single joking accusation towards Echoylir before the aged warrior continued guiding him towards whatever destination he had planned.

"This is why I love my family" Echoylir muttered as he walked on.

“I know that feeling” Kell muttered in reply before giving his head a short shake to refocus himself on the conversation at hand.

"Kell, was it? You've got questions written all over your face boy. Come, we'll walk and you can ask them" Echoylir asked, ending a brief but uncomfortable silence that had set in as they walked.

In that moment a thousand questions popped into Kell’s mind, he wanted to ask how far the war had developed, how many of his brothers had died, but most importantly he wanted to know when he could go home. But before he could speak his training kicked into overdrive, he needed to liquidate all those questions into a single one to save both he and Echoylir time. A single memory appeared in his mind, the stasis pod he had been in, Kell had no idea how long he had been inside the pod, it would be his single question.

“How long was I in stasis? Days, Weeks, Months…” Kell asked, ripping his eyes from the ground and his mind from thought. However, he paused slightly before continuing his question; he was hesitant to speak the final word out of fear for what it symbolized. “…Years?”

 

[Sreeya]

Kale was in little mood to socialize. She had walked away from the group, finding a copse of trees between which she stood. This place reminded her vaguely of the first time she had crash landed into Mandalorian territory as an Alliance soldier. Her comrades had died merely a few meters away, the entire forest going up in flames. Kale closed her eyes, exhaling to push the thoughts away. Those memories blended together with the fresh memories of seeing her clan homes burn. She wondered if she would ever be granted the luxury of a true home, a permanent home. Perhaps it would be her grave, she thought bitterly.

"Hey!"

She turned to see one of the small boys she had rescued running up to her. Kale furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"I thought I settled you into your living quarters."

"I know..but I wanted to come here."

Kale said nothing, sitting down atop a small, flat rock. She gazed up at the skies, thinking of where the rest of the Mandalorian people were scattered, and where they had flown to. She turned to the small boy, who sat down next to her and followed her line of sight. She couldn't help but smile at him mimicking her actions. After a few moments, Kale wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. He looked like he had been crying, but Kale mentioned nothing of it.

"Thank you.."

Kale did not ask for an explanation. She simply hugged him tighter.

 

[huntressofworlds]

The sonic shower had been just what she needed. The repetitive pulses along her nude form helped soothe away some of the ache from her joints, it certainly returned her to being clean. Soon enough though there was just a point that she was wasting power, and when she realized it she let her hand toggle the interface and deactivate the cycle. Running her fingers through her hair she combed out the mess. Despite the fact that the shower used no water, somehow it always managed to leave her hair a mess.

Once she’d gotten those strands of her deep red locks unjumbled she looked down along her body, a few fingertips traced along a scar here and there. One along her shoulder, another smaller one right above her breast, one near her stomach. There were dangers even in being a medic or a doctor, especially in times of war. Most of them had been caused by shrapnel, even if the target wasn’t her specifically, she had still taken her own damage.

Stepping over to a set of compartments built into the wall she tugged out some personal gear, starting to dress in the simple tank and trousers. Next came a crisp white tunic, a synthiweave that made it far more cool to wear than it looked. She simply didn’t feel the need to suffer through her armor for the remainder of the day. Drawing the flap over she weaved it’s singular decorative button through the top, her eyes lingered on the button with it’s engravings, JMC. Jakelia Medical Center. Little relics of a life she once had thought would be semi-normal. At least, back when she’d wore the same tunic in a real medical center, not what had they’d managed to make due with way out here.

Drawing the crisp red belt around her waist she weaved a couple of pouches onto it, fitting one over each hip she checked to make sure she had the initial tools for any medical situation that might arise, then fastened it neatly with the buckle on front. Last came the simple shoes she put on, casting one last look towards her armor she’d stacked neatly on the bed she’d been using for her own. The area she was in was tucked in the back of the medbay, and even had a door that closed it off, while the space was shared with the sonic shower, storage, and a few stations for medical research she figured it best that she at least be there incase something happened in an emergency. Maybe that was it, or maybe it was the low hum of the electrical components that gave her a sense of comfort.

Such was neither here nor then though. Stepping back out finally she went to check on the two patients once more, finding no additional changes she slipped a data interface onto her wrist, much like a small bracer she took one of the larger datapads and stepped just outside, dropping herself onto the bench just outside the door she let her eyes pan around her surroundings, taking it in, getting a feel for things around the compound before returning her focus to the datapad and some of the test results on plant specimens.

 

[Ender]

Tapcaf. That was at least normal, he thought to himself as he clutched his own caf machine. The one piece he had left from a former life. The now ex-accountant ran his hand over the smooth glass globe of the pot and glanced around the camp. He didn't belong here. With the humidity, the wild animals, the jungle. By all rights he should have died in Norg Bral. With his weight problem, his skills he had no place among these warriors. And yet. Here he was.

"Fierfek, Aaron. What have you gotten yourself into?" He asked himself, and huddled closer to the fire. His face was still bruised horribly from when Berry had given him a working over the day of the attack. He shook his head, even that hurt, and he poured himself another flimsi-cups worth of caf. Not from his pot, of course. From the communal pot. Now. He had to hand it to them. These warrior types made a great pot of coffee it was black and strong and heightened his senses. It smelled divine, though to many in Sundari it would have repulsed them. Berry had always liked his caf strong.

Once more, he looked around and took in everything. There was a young woman with a shock of red hair walking about. He wouldn't mind sharing a bed with her. Another woman, maybe just a girl, walked about with a wolf pup. That was adorable. He liked dogs. Somewhere a child and another woman (was her name Kade? Kale? He'd picked up something like that). Nearer to him, was one of his great cousins. Echoylir Bralor. Something of a God to the younger Bralor children (it took no small effort to suppress his thoughts of his most likely dead young relatives). But here he was. In the flesh.

Slowly, Aaron rose and began to move past the pair (Bralor and his companion) to get to his bunk. He took a gentle swallow of his caf as to not not gain any attention from anyone. It didn't work. His caf was still rather hot and he swore loudly when it burned his mouth.

 

[Srota]

The mood was sullen, at least where he sat, it seemed to permeate every fiber of his being, the destruction that had been visited on all he had come to cherish as his adopted home had wiped away another portion of his past, just like they had to Coruscant. It emanated off of him in waves, and had he been anywhere else in the karking galaxy, he'd have been in the nearest tapcaf or cantina, drowning the mood away in a copious amounts of alcohol of some form or another. But here he was, and there was no drink in sight. Well, that was going to be a problem. He rose to his feet and walked towards the rest of the group, the rather bulky falleen moved with a rather surprising ease that his size belied. He had to get off his shebs and do something, after all, even if he just went out and took on one of the myriad nasties that inhabited this backwater planet.

He nodded politely to the few he knew, Lir, in particular. He had nothing but respect for the man who had led them through such a hard time and now had already gotten the clan settled in at their new location and was already focused on making sure the newest member of the aliit was taken care of. He sighed quietly, as he walked to where he had stowed away his gear. The process would take him a few minutes, after all, the black and gold beskar'gam was not somethign easily removed and then reworn at a moment's notice. Clutching the buy'ce in one hand, and a belt with a single vibroblade and an N-95 Zeus in their respective sheathe and holster in the other, he stepped out.

"I'm going hunting, vode, anyone care to join?"

 

[Silverface]

Echoylir was about to answer the Clone when, quite rudely, a certain soft-bellied Sundari cursed behind him. Lir's arm struck out, grabbing the accountant by the scruff and dragging him to the burly Bralor elder, whom wrapped his arm securely around the boy's neck. Caf would spill and soak into the damp, grassy ground. "What have I caught here, hmmn? A lucky shabuir who got his sorry shebs shot out of the sky by a lucky shot and -then- got dragged into a Jai'gaalar dropship at the last moment. Thought you'd come flying up and visiting us northern savages eh?" the old Mandalorian growled to the 'civillised' southern boy playfully.

"Parj'ika! Konrad! Get this little osik-head suited up in some plates, burn his chub off eh?!" He called out, loudly, completely embarrassing the accountant intentionally. "Eh? You need it eh Aaron? Sure you're not a quarter Hutt? Eh?" Echoylir continued, teasing. He patted the younger man on the head affectionately. "You'll need to start pulling your weight here, Aaron. So you'll get to hunt down something, then Konrad here can show you how to gut it, and little Parja over there can show you how to cook it. Eh? Sounds good lek? Serve up something good for the aliit, vode!" the elder Bralor said, shoving the unfortunate accountant towards the looming Falleen that was Konrad.


Grinning, Echoylir looked back at Kell, then his grin dropped. "A lot has happened, Kell, since you went into a freeze-tube. Your Republic, the Old Republic, became something known as the Galactic Empire. You won, in a way. The.. Confederacy of Independant Systems was it.. yes, them. They were wiped out, from what I understand. Somewhere along there, the Old Republic's army turned on the Jedi after some.. betrayal. The details are pretty fuzzy. As far as I'm aware, the clones of Jango Fett aren't around anymore. A few had kids, started their own little bloodlines. Probably still out there, the descendants. But you.. you're the last clone soldier"

He paused as they trudged on towards the armoury, the older warrior tapping a quick message to the ever-skilled Jin Reau and her datapad: ++Old Bralor needs a checkup, shoulder joint acting up. Armoury, two minutes++

"Look.. I can give you historical documents Kell. I can give you some credits, a ship, and send you out into the galaxy if you really want. Or I can give you a home and a family here, with my lot. One of my direct ancestors, Rav Bralor, she helped some runaway Clones once. So I'll do the same for you if you want it" he eventually added as they came closer to the armoury, a pair of Mandalorians worked both the primitive forges and the more advanced technology to repair or create so much of the equipment needed to simply survive. A few suits of Aliit'gam were piled in one corner, blasters and bladed weapons in another. Lir dragged a pair of seats out to the area in front of the open air forges, indicating for the clone to sit as he himself did.

"Sit down and think, Kell, before you decide. You'd be welcome here. Another pair of hands would be welcome around here for sure. As a soldier, you'd find a place here too" Echoylir said, watching the clone as the aged warrior sat down.

 

[Kiro]

Parja was prodding one of her armour plates under the heater, testing to see if the paint had set yet, when she heard her grandfather's cry. As her keen, pointed, ears listened to his request and how he teased the tall, chubby, southern human, she had to struggle to contain the urge to grin. With a finger flicking off the power of the heater, she began strapping on her armour plates to her thermally insulated flightsuit as quickly as only someone whom had spent decades doing exactly that could.

As she fits on the last of her plates, making sure everything's powered up, connected propperly, and fitting right, she leaves the helmet off, letting it instead hang mag-locked to her belt as she jogs over to her grandfather and Aaron, the chubby accountant. "Well, ba'buir... you weren't joking when you said Sundari were soft. This guy's got more blubber on him than a well fed frost akk." Parja whistles as she lets her green eyes wander over Aaron's chubby figure, falling in with her grandfather's half-joking, half-bullying, tune. Glancing up to the Falleen Echoylir had instructed to assist, she taps a finger against her chin. "What'cha think, Konrad? We even have plates that'd fit that gut?"

 

[Srota]

Deep chuckle escaped his lips ad a black gauntleted hand fell against the Sundari mandalorian's shoulder. "C'mon, verd'ika, let's see if they taught ya anything useful in Sundari." He grinned cheekily, before smiling and nodding to Echoylir. It felt good to have something to do again, even if it was just teaching the new verd'ika how to hunt and how to gut his prey. Well, as they say, better to be busy for idle hands are the devil's playground, or something like that. "I think we might need to modify them a bit, he is rather large." He smiled and began to move, the large falleen man making his way towards the small armory, and beginning to root around inside to find gear for the newest member of the aliit.

 

[huntressofworlds]

Jin was sitting quietly outside of the medical center on the bench just to the right of the doors. She'd resorted to almost a slight slouch as she tried to get comfortable on the otherwise uncomfortable spot. Her hands held the over-sized data tablet against her knee, reading over the results and readouts of the latest tests. Unfortunately most of her specimens weren't doing so well in this harsh of an environment. Was looking more and more like she'd have to keep a small greenhouse with imported soils or some variant of hydroponic gardening. She sighed a little bit, all her work thus far wasn't looking to be entirely adaptable to Nilash III. There were a few plants though, ones which were doing decently - as in, not dying. Still even they were not showing the promising growth she'd hoped for despite the area's abundant vegetative growth.

It was perhaps a blessing in disguise when her armband bleeped a message from Echoylir. The message was text based, but even it drew a slight chuckle from her. Old Bralor indeed, she smiled as she rose up and turned back into the medical bay. Stepping over and activating one of the medical bots she informed it to take over operations within the infirmary, keep an eye on the two patients in the beds and to contact her if she's needed. After which Jin retrieved her medical kit with it's scanner and toolkit for biomechanical implants. Honestly when it came to those she felt more of an engineer than a doctor, but she supposed the two were one in the same. Engineers fix ships, Doctors fix the body. Unfortunately Lir was becoming more and more ship than body, though she'd never mention it to him, even in jest.

One she was sure she had everything she'd need for any minor adjustments for the Alor's shoulder a well as a few compounds that might help him if it was not mechanically related. She shouldered the pouch and stepped on through the side door this time, the one that led into the compound proper instead of outdoors. Her eyes scanned along the area she was headed, taking in the changed details of the compound itself, a few minute differences since the last time she'd been there, a tweak here and there. Whatever was needed to turn what was once a ship into a fortress. She had to give it to Lir, in the time since she'd last set foot on Nilash III, he had transformed it from a forbidding looking death trap to a forbidding looking home. Despite the last few months spent in the galaxy abroad in relative comfort and new technologies, she felt oddly comfortable in the Compound. Perhaps this was the one place the poor Doctor had actually been able to relax in and not worry about getting pegged by some would be mercenary or worse, the Imperials or Sith.

Turning the corner into the Armory she let her eyes scan the various equipment and weaponry stored there. Thinking back this was likely the first time she'd stepped into the room fully, aside from noting where it was in the tour she'd received. There were varying items, though one of the larger rifles drew her focus just slightly as she traced it's sleek polished barrel with her finger in passing, drawing her finger back she noticed the minute traces of oil but she rubbed her pads together and absorbed it in as she finally turned her head to find Echoylir.

She'd find him as she made her way towards the forges and watched the other vod working and repairing things with that fiery furnace. The closer she got the warmer it seemed, circling around the area as she headed for the other side of the forges, her forehead already starting to slightly glisten from the increased heat in the area. Finding Echoylir and Kell together wasn't all that unexpected, in fact she was pleased to see her antiquated Medical counterpart speaking with the Alor, hopefully Lir could give him the answers to things that she could not. Either way she kept her distance well enough to afford them both the privacy of their conversation, though she was sure to have her eyes meet with Echoylir's and give him a slight nod of her head so he knew she was there.

 

[Apollyon]

"A lot has happened, Kell, since you went into a freeze-tube. Your Republic, the Old Republic, became something known as the Galactic Empire. You won, in a way. The.. Confederacy of Independant Systems was it.. yes, them. They were wiped out, from what I understand. Somewhere along there, the Old Republic's army turned on the Jedi after some.. betrayal. The details are pretty fuzzy. As far as I'm aware, the clones of Jango Fett aren't around anymore. A few had kids, started their own little bloodlines. Probably still out there, the descendants. But you.. you're the last clone soldier"

Every word the aged warrior uttered hit Kell harder than anything he had ever experienced, nothing could compare to it. Kell’s eyes fell to the ground and flickered in deep thought, the pain and confusion he was feeling in bleeding through onto his face. He didn’t understand how this was possible, the last clone soldier in existence seemed like an impossibility to him. After all, to him, it was just a month and a half ago he had been on Ryloth.

As the aged Leader led Kell into the armory the clone ripped his mournful gaze from the harsh metallic floor and back up to the man. Normally, the clone would have been proud of his ability to cope with a situation, to continue surviving but even for a being bred for battle and to take the impact most would find emotionally and psychologically devastating this blow was too much to bear. His mouth moved weakly, unable to put his thoughts into words as he gazed at Echoylir.

"Look.. I can give you historical documents Kell. I can give you some credits, a ship, and send you out into the galaxy if you really want. Or I can give you a home and a family here, with my lot. One of my direct ancestors, Rav Bralor, she helped some runaway Clones once. So I'll do the same for you if you want it"

The offer seemed halfhearted to the clone, even in his current state Kell could tell the warrior was silently praying to the gods, if he believed in any, that he would stay. Before the mention of Rav, Kell was sure of his decision, he wanted to see the truth for himself, he wanted to return home to Kamino in hopes that this was all a lie and his brothers were still alive. But at the mention of the only woman he considered to be his mother, Kell’s mind changed instantly.

"Sit down and think, Kell, before you decide. You'd be welcome here. Another pair of hands would be welcome around here for sure. As a soldier, you'd find a place here too"

Kell didn’t need to hear the warrior’s last words to know the truth behind them, nor did he need any more convincing. If what Echoylir had said was true then his near fanatical loyalty towards her fell to him and his “lot” as he had put it. On top of this, Kell had been trained to put the needs of other before his own, to risk his own life to protect those in need. Despite the Galaxy he knew having vanished completely the clone couldn’t deny his training or his instincts.

“Rav was like a mother to me.” Kell stated simply, his voice cracking slightly from the stress of the situation. “She taught my squad and I more than just how to kill and obey orders, she taught us how to live. She was more of mother to me than any cloner could have ever been, I owe her my life.” Kell continued, explaining his relationship with the man’s ancestor to him. “If what you say is true and she is your ancestor, then that debt falls to you.” He said finally, his voice lightening as if a burden was lifted off of his shoulders. “Through her bloodline you have my loyalty, I won’t be going anywhere Bralor.”

 

[Wit]

Not too far from the compound, the clan's largest member scrambled out of a decent sized cave and carefully jumped from rock to rock to make it to the banks of the small pond that covered its opening. Parja had found the cave in the days after they had made landfall and had recently told him about it. While the poisonous waters of the pond made the cave somewhat useless for them, it would serve perfectly for Chak. The cave was dark and damp, and the poisonous waters kept wild animals away, specially the Gundarks that inhabited the planet. All in all it was the perfect place to make a nest for a clutch of Barabel eggs. He would have to think of a way to keep them away from the waters once the eggs were hatched, but for now the cave would do perfectly for them, the cave's natural defences and his own added traps would ensure their safety.

Stretching to loosen his muscles as he landed on firm ground, he let out a joyous growl as he felt the breeze on his fur. His side felt a lot better than it had when they landed and he finally felt well enough to exert himself a little. Within minutes he was up the nearest tree, swinging from branch to branch as he made his way back towards the compound. He was almost there, covering the distance in half the time it would have taken on the ground, when he spotted Echoylir down below, walking with the trooper they had rescued while he had been out cold. Changing directions, he swung around from tree to tree before dropping to the ground close to them, just in time to hear the last of their exchange. [Hmm,] he rumbled as he walked towards the pair, [I see you've picked up another pup old man. Careful of strays, they can bite.]The last was said in a soft whisper, for Lir alone, the Wookiee's careful nature might be known to everyone in the clan, but the trooper didn't and there was no point in making him think Chak didn't want him here, on the off chance he understood Shyriwook that is.