Trust Goes Both Ways

[Leah Reach]

Rebel extremists. The bane of the Galactic Alliance and the essence of what Leah despised the most. Radicals was what caused the tragedy on Dantooine and the death of her husband. Because of them, the Rebellion was in the situation it now was. Be that as it may, as unforgiving the Jedi Master may be, the rebel ambassador could not take the rebels out of the equation. They played an important factor in the campaign for Jedha. Already in control of several points on the planet, in possession of weapons and munitions much needed by a desperate Alliance. They likewise retained enough manpower to aid in eliminating the Fanged Disciples, cultists who ruled the Holy City with an iron fist. Leah needed their support if the Jedi ever wanted to maintain a presence on the wayward world.

According to Rebel Intelligence, the rebel movement was located in the far reaches of the city outskirts. Tucked deep inside a crypt and monastery well past its prime, it made the perfect base of operations for the extremists, or as they called themselves, the Renegades. However, perfect as the sanctuary was, the rebels were cornered. Under siege by a small ensemble of the cultists, armed with heavy weaponry obtained under mysterious circumstances, the Renegades were forced to hunker down. Now, believing the Alliance could be of use, Leah sent two rebels to be the breakthrough the Renegades needed. By squashing the cultists, the Rebellion might not only finally gain an audience with the extremists, but prove their worth on the battlefield.

Leah had no doubt that Devrim Wolfe and Crix Dolan could do the job. One man was an experienced Jedi on the path to Knighthood and an agent of Rebel Intelligence. The other was a resourceful smuggler, a classy gunslinger and natural charmer. Leading a continent of Alliance soldiers, breaking through the siege would be a walk in the park. Persuading the Renegades, even if they were impressed by the display, was a variable she was left uncertain of. Nonetheless, the Jedi Master left the pair with one last thing, just before they engaged the enemy in their makeshift encampment:

“May the Force be with you.”

@Vosrik @Zay

 

[Crix Dolan (TL8)]

The Smuggler leaned against the upstairs window of the safe house they'd been assigned to as a rendezvous point. His pulled out a pack of ratty cigarettes and pulled out his last one. The addict sucked his teeth in disappointment realizing he wouldn't be able to resupply until he got of this weird planet. The planet felt... off to him. He couldn't tell if this was his years of smuggling kicking in or if the force was trying to tell him something. Either way he was unsettled. The streets were dingy, the city reminded him of a value version of Tatooine but with twice the blaster burns. His eyes fell upon a scrawny kid, maybe ten? The little guy was dressed in tatters and his thin frame was clearly visible underneath.

The Scoundrel lit up.

The kid brought back some bad memories. Crix remembered being that small. He couldn't forget. He had no doubt that the little guy would either end up in the extremists or dead... That's how it worked out for him, right? Sure. He took a deep breath and blew the smoke out the window. He tamped the cigarette out on the windowsill and returned the half-burned cylinder to its crappy pack. He checked his gear and found everything in its place.

The Scoundrel was clad in his scout armor. Over the chest piece, he wore his leather jacket with new patchwork repairs on his right shoulder. His thigh holster held his DL-7, and he'd added a reverse holstered Quickdraw blaster on his right hip. His gunbelt doubled as a utility belt containing basic mission necessities and he sported a wrist comm on his left arm. Satisfied with his equipment, he proceeded downstairs, they'd be heading into action soon.

The Smuggler's commanding officer was Devrim Wolfe, and Crix thanked his lucky stars for the Commander's presence. Having lived his entire life outside of the law's expectations he found military life to be tedious and pointless, nothing but pontificating bureaucratic gun heads barking about their supposed exploits... just a bunch of posers. Devrim, however, put his money where his mouth was and The Smuggler respected that. Crix also knew he was Force Sensitive and the willy smuggler hoped the wiser man would be able to explain the uneasy feeling that'd settled in his gut.

Crix glanced down the stairs and could see some of the other members of their group prepping blasters and checking armor. It wouldn't be long before they headed out. Their mission was pretty simple. Route the disciples attempting to kill the extremists, Hopefully, we can tell them apart. He mused sarcastically as he hit the bottom stair.

The Scoundrel made his way to Devrim and once in earshot, he said, "What's the plan boss?" There was a lot to consider here. The fighting was clearly wreaking havoc on the city. Its civilians were starving crying out, and their pain was amplified by the planets enate force connection. Even though he played the callous criminal, Crix was a bleeding heart. He'd vehemently disagree with anything that would put innocent lives in danger, he hoped Devrim felt the same way.

@Vosrik

 

[Devrim Wolfe]

Inhaling the breeze drifting off the streets of the acclaimed "Holy City", Devrim caught a whiff of a cigarette. It brought back a wave of nostalgia — the rebel used to smoke his fair share when working with the Dxun cell extremists. He had since given it up, although it had never really been a habit in the first place. Thinking back, he supposed it had primarily been a result of learning about the Force and the Light Side. Devrim no longer felt the need to resort to a smoke to relax, as he now had the ability to calm his mind and allow the Force to guide his actions with clarity. He did so now, basking in the feeling that came with meditating on the Light. The peace that it brought him was unlike anything he could describe, and it allowed him to focus on their mission.

From what they had heard from their informants, a strange cult was oppressing a group of extremists within the city. Wishing to exert Galactic Alliance control over Jedha, they needed the help of these rebels to gain the advantage. A few members of Devrim's personal Phaeda troopers, Wolf Squadron, were in the safehouse preparing for the battle that was sure to come. Devrim was already suited up for the mission, though his helmet was placed on a table nearby the Jedi until they began to move out. Hearing footsteps of one descending the stairs, Devrim felt the presence of Crix approaching. Having met the man on two separate occasions now, his signature in the Force was recognizable to the Rebel Commander. Moving within earshot as Devrim continued looking out the window of the safehouse, Crix asked for details on their plan of attack.

The black-clad rebel inhaled sharply, drawn from his train of thought. "We'll be moving out soon enough. I've already sent word to the extremists of our presence, and they'll be sending a delegation soon for us to speak with them formally." Devrim turned his head from the window to look at the scruffy-haired rebel. "Until then, we have some time to prepare." Using the Force to snatch the back of a chair just out of reach, he pulled it close and sat down across from another seat near Crix. "Tell me, what do you know about the Force?" Devrim asked, looking curiously at the rebel. He genuinely wished to know, and perhaps could help teach Crix what he had learned in the vaults of the Deep Stone Crypt.

@Zay​

 

[Crix Dolan (TL8)]

Devrim reached out with the force and brought a chair to his hand. He still wasn't used to these little tricks. Honestly, the only thing he really knew about the force was that he was connected to it.

He shrugged, "What does anyone really know about it?" He was only half joking as he replied to Devrim. Crix pulled a chair and took a seat in front of the other man.

"I've had a little training in telepathy, but honestly, I can't say I know anything about the force." He admitted.

To say things had been exciting would be an understatement, he'd gone on a literal tour of the Hutta sector during the uprise, he'd been invited to the operation on Kashyyyk, and he'd joined the Alliance during the evacuation of Al'doleem. Now, he was preparing to flex a little muscle to a group of extremists that are currently at odds with a group of zealots calling themselves the Fanged Disciples. Bringing his wandering mind back to the present he asked, "What do you know about the force, Devrim?"

The Smuggler was genuinely curious. He hoped he could glean some unexpected insight into the mysterious force that resided in him.

@Vosrik

 

[Devrim Wolfe]

"Well, that's a deep train of thought," Devrim chuckled in response to Crix' initial reply. He then listened to the rebel's short description of his limited experience. It was little, but it was still something. Simply nodding quietly and thoughtfully, the Jedi took a moment to think before answering Crix' question. What did he know about the Force?

"Not too long ago, I was just like yourself," Devrim began, giving his companion a smile. "A rebel hotshot, good with a gun and little care in the Galaxy for whatever this "Force" was. That all changed quickly." His mind drifted back to the moment when he had first met Master Leah Reach, who had felt Devrim's connection and helped him nurture it from nothing. "I know it flows through every living thing. You, me, these men here," Devrim gestured toward Wolf Squadron, who were paying more attention to cleaning their guns at the moment. "Even animals and the smallest creatures in the Galaxy. Close your eyes and reach out with your mind — what can you see? Look beyond this room, into the city." This was a first test, one that Devrim had himself done to become more comfortable with the Force.

"It has a will of its own, and it guides our actions. What makes us different than Sith is we set aside our emotions and let the Light Side direct us." Many of these teachings Devrim had learned not only from Leah, but also from the myriad of memory crystals in the Deep Stone Crypt. Masters Austin Wolfe and Gahalad Vult had gone into immense detail on every subject pertaining to the Force and the Jedi philosophies. The Rebel Commander felt it was his duty, in part, to teach others of the ways of a Jedi. If Crix truly wished to learn more about this innate power, then he would need a teacher. Devrim decided he would do his best to undertake that role.

@Zay​

 

[Crix Dolan (TL8)]

Crix considered smoking the rest of his cigarette while Devrim related to him. The smuggler appreciated the Commander's candor. Personally, Crix found this style of leadership to be far superior to the rank and file bs he knew was tantamount in the IAF. He listened carefully to what the man had to say about the force and his time before accepting the "truth" of the force.

The idea that the Force was to be solely obeyed without question sat wrong with him. That didn't sound like a connection it sounded like a possession, but he wasn't here to argue ideology, he was here to learn about the power within and that's what he would do. Crix was pretty open-minded when it came to the Force and while he'd entertain the ideas being established by the commander, he wasn't sure he completely agreed.

As Devrim instructed Crix closed his eyes and sat in darkness as Devrim continued to explain the force's true omnipresence. At first, The Smuggler wasn't sure what to look for. Was he supposed to see a ghost city in his mind's eye? Should he be able to perceive the unseen? Would the force show up as a cute little green guy who'd take his hand and lead the smuggler through a song and dance explaining the hidden meaning of the force?

Frustrated with his own ineptitude, the smuggler sighed with frustration, about to forfeit when all the sudden... something changed.

A faint stirring in his intuition cocked his head to the side curiously. He turned his closed eyes to the east, and though he couldn't actually see something he knew something was coming. He focused on the location detecting emotions he'd experienced before in his life. As an orphan, he'd survived the harshness of life early and his tumultuous upbringing in the undercity of Coruscant by learning to read the intent of people. Now, he knew it was the force warning him. Crix felt the being closing in on their location. Panic and desperation intermingled creating an amalgamated fear driven by anger.

"Someones coming," He said with a distant tone to his voice as he kept the majority of his attention on the incoming being.

The being moved with a strange gait, like they were taking a short step followed by a large one. Almost like they were imitating a gallop. As he continued to examine the individual he realized they were injured. They were limping, no, well yes, they were limping but, they weren't just hobbling with haste for fun, they were running as quickly as they could.

"They're hurt!" He exclaimed, standing from his chair and making for the door. This was his meeting with Leah all over again. Was the force really manipulating his every move? Was he really a slave to some higher power? He shook the doubt from his mind, knowing that his inaction would lead to the possible death of the injured being making their way directly toward the rebellion's safe house.

"Commander, I think the delegation's arrived." He said, stepping through the door and into the dusty street. A wounded Drabatan covered in a sheen of sweat, ambled clumsily in his direction. Crix Rushed forward. As he closed in on being, he spotted a figure clad in dark robes lifting a menacing looking blaster, without thought, The Gunslinger pulled his Quickdraw heavy blaster and fired.

Twin smoking holes punched through the beings robes dropping them instantly. The Smuggler returned his blaster to its reverse holster with a flourish and moved to the wounded runner, he'd collapsed when Crix had opened fire. The smuggler rushed to their side and asked, "How many were after you?"

The Drabatan grimaced in pain, but he managed, "That was the last one." He replied through gritted teeth.

Crix nodded, adding, "You're a member of the Votary aren't you?" He asked confirming the amphibian was a member of the extremists they'd been sent to assist. The Drabatan nodded. By now the rest of Wolf Squadron would have mobilized, turning his attention to Devrim, he said, "Looks like we're gonna need to table that lesson."

Before he could stand making room for the medics, the amphibian grabbed his arm, renewed desperation in the beings face as he said, "Please... you have to help them. The Fangs... they've got artillery and their attacking the monestary!" Crix looked to Devrim still held in place by the Drabatan's grip.

@Vosrik

 

[Devrim Wolfe]

Seeing that Crix took his suggestion, Devrim also decided to close his own eyes and practice what he taught. He reached out with his senses and inner eye, so to speak, seeing those around him as visages of light. Compared to his non-Force sensitive squadron in the safehouse, Crix shone brightly like a torch. His power was perhaps untrained and unattuned, but it was certainly there. Reaching further, Devrim's senses cast out in a wave across a portion of the Holy City. There was a myriad of emotions and thoughts rising from the crowds, but the Jedi kept himself distant from them and simply observed. One particular emotion rose higher and stronger above the sea of citizens — that of pain, urgency, and fear above all. And that particular person was approaching the safehouse as fast as they could.

Crix spoke, realizing the same thing. "I sense it too," Devrim replied, his muscles tensing as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. The Force, working with the feeling in his gut, was telling them both that something was not right. Danger approached. Standing up and wheeling toward the entrance, Devrim knocked over his chair in the process but let it lie on the floor. The commotion made the heads of Wolf Squadron rise from working on their weapons. "What's wrong, Commander?" one of them, Finnala, asked urgently. Devrim did not reply, as Crix made it to the door first and the scene played out before them all.

This was most certainly the delegation, but they had been attacked. Nobody else knew the Rebels were at their location or would have any reason to go there. Hearing the blaster shots from the Quickdraw ring out across the alleyway, the rest of Wolf Squadron rose and gripped their weapons tightly. Devrim raised a fist, telling them to hold, as he exited the building after his companion. His face firm and jaw set, the Jedi nodded in agreement with Crix. They had a job to do.

"Colovance, see what you can do for this soldier," Devrim called out. Rushing outside to do his leader's bidding, he helped the Drabatan inside where they had plenty of medical supplies to stabilize the extremist. "We'll take care of them," the Commander reassured before looking toward the rest of the rebels. "We're moving up our timetable. Move out — to the monastery!" A chorus of "Yessir!"s rose from the group, and as one they moved at a jogging pace through the city streets.

The sight that greeted the rebels was not a pretty one. Indeed, the dark cultist were wiping out both civilians and Votary extremists alike. With no adequate weapons to defend against the might of heavy artillery, the cultists were destroying all opposition and bringing down the monastery. "Spread out, men — take them down." Crouching behind what cover he could, Devrim eyed the artillery. It came in the form of a Rancour-IFV, which was constantly laying down thick firepower on any rebels that popped their heads out from cover. It needed to be destroyed. "Any ideas?" Devrim asked Crix. The Rebel Commander had several of his own, but this was yet another test. Devrim wanted to know how good Crix was at quick thinking under pressure.

@Zay​

 

[Crix Dolan (TL8)]

The amphibian's grip slackened and Crix caught it, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Rest, we'll take it from here."

The Drabatan was taken to safety and Wolf Squadron formed up. The Rebel's beat pavement heading for the monastery, Crix hoped they weren't too late. The Padawan was still open to the force. His consciousness was aware of the distress in the city. He could feel the fear. It was cold, dark, and lonely. It was a well-known feeling. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to accept the pain around him. He was determined to end it. He kept pace with Devrim, suddenly thankful for the other man's shared workout regimens. Without them, The Smuggler would have been looking for a speeder to steal so he could keep up.

Devrim held up a signal stopping the squad in their tracks. The sound of blaster fire and screams echoed through The Gunslinger's body. Like a siren's song, he longed to rush to their aid even if it meant his death. Devrim must have felt the same. The Commander called for the squad to fan out and Crix cut to the right of his partner. The scene was raw and gritty. Blaster fire set the air ablaze leaving the smell of burned ozone behind. Bodies littered the ground, children called for help, mothers looked for their kids. Votery, Civilian, Man, Woman, it didn't matter. The Fang's were waging war on any in their path. They were out for total obliteration and they had to be stopped.

Crix and Devrim took cover behind a partially destroyed wall. War was loud, over the cacophony Devrim asked for his opinion. Crix chanced a glance over the wall and spied the Rancour. It's turret scanned the area firing on anything that entered it's sights. Crix ducked behind cover when they started coming his way. Crix surveyed the area around them and noticed a side alley.

It was across the street from their location and Crix began forming a plan, "A team could flank the Rancor through there--" Blaster fire scorched by overhead and he raised his voice a little to compensate for the symphony of battle.

"One team stays here. Keeps their attention while the other takes anti-armor weapons and hits from the flank."

With a smirk, he said, "Better get going chief, I won't be able to keep this up long."

Before Devrim could stop him Crix pulled both of his weapons and stepped out of cover. His entrance upon the battlefield was welcomed with immediate blaster fire. His connection to the force beckoned and Crix obliged. His body moved with preternatural guidance as he moved through the battlefield, firing off both weapons with practiced precision while narrowly avoiding blaster bolts. Any who crossed his path met their end.

The Fang's began to focus him and that's when the Rancor's turret focused on him. He took two more shots dropping two fangs flanking the Rancor. No need for them to alert the tank of Devrim's approach. The vehicle opened fire and Crix hauled ass. Still submerged in the forces embrace he bolted to the right and took cover behind a nearby building.

He needed to buy Devrim and his crew more time so he kept it up. He was suddenly feeling incredibly tired and felt his connection to the force ebbing. He released his hold and gasped, he hadn't realized he been drawing so much from the force. His legs were nearly numb like he'd just run a marathon. His entire body seemed to reject the prospect of further combat, but Crix knew he couldn't stop.

The Rebel pushed himself up off the ground with a grunt and leaned against the wall of the building he'd sought refuge behind. Crix steeled his nerves and prepared to make another run. He'd keep peppering them until Devrim took them out. He just hoped there was enough debris left to take cover behind. Crix reloaded his weapons and made his next run.

@Vosrik

 

[Devrim Wolfe]

It was times like these that Devrim had become very good at doing one thing — closing his mind to the myriad of emotions that every soldier and civilian felt. If any Jedi allowed themselves to feed off of such dangerous senses and act upon them, then they would find themselves falling to the temptation of the Dark Side. Resisting the want or need to call upon such unbridled power was difficult, though it continuously plagued those who walked the path of the Light. Even though both Devrim and Crix would want to use such abilities for good to save these people in pain and agony, ultimately it would lead to their downfall. The Rebel Commander could sense that Crix, with his mind open, was feeling all these things. But although this drove him to act, he was not allowing it to push him over the edge.

Sitting patiently behind cover while his companion detailed his plan, Devrim nodded, pleased with the assessment. "Good thinking. One of my men has a PIPE VII that will be useful here." Motioning to Wolf Squadron, the few carrying heavy weapons backed into cover and made their way stealthily into the side alley. While he did this, Crix took it upon himself to provide said distraction. The man was already quite well-attuned with the Force, calling upon it to naturally avoid incoming blaster fire and taking down soldier after soldier of the enemy. Devrim raised an eye. To think that he had just told Crix how to open his mind to their surroundings, yet he was already utilizing the Force to enhance his senses in combat with expertise. A born survivor, indeed, the Rebel Commander thought, vaulting out of cover to give backup.

The rest of Wolf Squadron was getting into position, so they needed no further direction from Devrim. Just as the Rancour swiveled its turret to focus the new supernatural threat, the black-clad Jedi swept up beside Crix and ignited his lightsaber. A shot blasted forth from the turret, but raising his emerald blade to meet it with a two-handed grip, Devrim gritted his teeth as he reflected it back to the sender. The bolt impacted the barrel of the transport's turret, causing sparks to shoot across the field and melt the end of the barrel. While Crix took cover to restore his strength, Devrim extracted a frag grenade and hurled it behind a building where some Fang cultists were taking cover. The resulting explosion and bodies hurling into the dusty road was all the confirmation the Jedi needed.

Taking a stand, content to hold position and deflect any incoming blaster fire, Devrim began taking out more and more of the cultists by reflecting bolts to their origins. However, several of them had gotten excited with the prospect of killing a Jedi and taking his lightsaber. As one, multiple cultists pulled out repeaters and began laying down heavy fire on Devrim — more than he was able to handle. "Anytime now, men," he relayed to the rest of Wolf Squadron getting their heavy weapons in position. In response, a stream of smoke shot across the open streets as the PIPE VII was launched. Impacting the stationary Rancour, its armour was punctured and black smoke billowed from the wreckage from the explosion. The cultists faltered in their assault, with their flagship vehicle now destroyed.

"Forward, men! TO VICTORY!" Devrim called out, rushing forward and drawing his Quickdraw. Releasing double-shot after double-shot, the cultists began to retreat in earnest. Their assault on the monastery had failed, and the rebels were driving them back. "Wolf Squadron, hunt them down. Capture who you can, put down those who give you no choice. We're finishing this cult once and for all." The City of Jedha, with the intervention of the Rebels, would no longer be plagued by the destruction and pain caused by these people.

@Zay​

 

[Crix Dolan (TL8)]

Just as Crix was about to round the corner, he heard the explosion. He breathed a sigh of relief, then blew away two cultist shoulders attempting to flank his friend. Crix might not have seen Devrim's supernatural return, but the stirring of the force and the destroyed hover tank told him the Commander had gone to work on the tank before it was taken out.

"Show off," Crix teased coming up behind Devrim.

The Commander rallied his troops and Wolf Squadron cleaned up. Crix was sent to secure the monastery and make contact with the Votery in order to get delegations underway immediately. With the cult's sudden increased aggression, The Smuggler worried these extremists would be stirred into a frenzy. He was greeted by a squad of guards dressed in a similar fashion to the Drabatan scout they'd met before. Crix was flanked by two members of Wolf Squadron and Devrim would be joining them for the meeting.

Crix relayed the info and set up the meeting. His party was led into the monastery. The grand hall was intricately ornate. The history of the building meticulously preserved and the attention to detail stood out to The Rebel as they continued down the main walkway to a pair of large ornately designed doors. The ancient doors swung inward the creak of their hinges as deep as the doors were old. Before they proceeded into the final meeting Devrim caught up.

"What you don't trust me?" Crix joked as they moved into the final room.

The room beyond the threshold culminated in a makeshift throne before a perfectly preserved alter. In the throne sat a single figure clade in drab robes, with a small metallic circlet on his brow. The being was Drabatan. He was older than the man Crix and Devrim had helped earlier. The greenish-gray skin of the being before him was wracked with anxiety. The leaders furrowed brow seemed to intensify as the rebel's approached.

"I suppose you've come to gloat." Said the Drabatan as they came into a comfortable distance.

Crix cocked an eyebrow, "Funny way to say thank you, but you're welcome." he responded with a wry grin and was promptly elbowed by his comrade. Luckily, Devrim was more suited for diplomacy. Crix listened as the other man spoke letting his indignance simmer.

Crix nodded a greeting when he was introduced and then let go of his pride. The Leader of the Votary was named Dralbac, and he was as surly as he was drab.

"Look, we didn't come here to gloat," he lifted his hands guiltily and continued, "We came here to help." Crix took a moment to admire his surroundings and said, "It's clear to us that you care deeply for the heritage of this city. The Fanged Disciples are up to something bad, and if we don't work together to take them down there could be monstrous consequences."

Indecision was still prominent in Dralbac's expression but the possible thread had taken seed in his mind. Crix stepped back turning the floor over to the more eloquent one in their party. Crix was certain The Commander would be able to bring it home.

In the middle of Devrim's speech, a familiar voice cut through the room.

"Father, please... Listen to them."

@Vosrik

 

[Devrim Wolfe]

Though Crix wouldn't have been able to see it, Devrim smirked at his companion's comment. He certainly didn't consider himself a show off...but the looks on people's faces upon seeing a Jedi, long thought extinct, was priceless. While Wolf Squadron dutifully followed their Commander's orders, Crix and Devrim had other business to attend to. That of bringing the extremists here on Jedha under the wing of the Galactic Alliance. Not fully trusting the Votary, two members of Wolf Squadron accompanied them as they entered the monastery and were brought before their cell leader.

Entering the central hall of the building, Devrim could see why the extremist rebels held it so religiously. It was beautifully designed, a work of art preserved through years of decay and use. If the cultists had gained the upper hand, there was no telling what destruction they would have wrought to the monastery that so many held close to their hearts. Crix made a quiet comment as Devrim pulled his black helmet away from his head, holding it under his arm. The Rebel Commander gave his companion a wink. "Your time will come. I have some experience with these kind of rebels."

Entering the pseudo "throne room" of the monastery, it appeared that these rebels had gone a step further than Devrim had previously thought. They'd even set their leader so high as to be a king among them — the metallic circlet around the Drabatan's wrinkled brow told the Jedi much. The first words out of the leader's mouth were not that of thanks or gratitude, instead filled with spite and clear dislike of their intervention. Crix was quick to talk back to the aged Drabatan, inciting a quick jab from Devrim's elbow. Such interactions required tact, and although working with these extremists could be unpleasant, the Galactic Alliance needed as many allies as they could in the fight against the Empire.

"Dralbac, leader of the Votary," Devrim began after quietly clearing his throat. Unlike what many others thought, the Jedi was in fact terrible with words and speeches. Being a man of brevity, he vastly preferred actions over words. But after being in a position of leadership for some time, even he recognized the necessity of inspiring and convincing others through speech. "I am Devrim Wolfe, a Rebel Commander of the Galactic Alliance. This is Crix, another fighter for our cause against the Empire." Now that his companion had simmered down somewhat, Crix continued the discourse which was immensely more helpful to Devrim than the rebel likely knew.

The Jedi continued, "The Galactic Alliance is in constant need of soldiers and rebels willing to take up arms. We can offer our help to the Votary in driving back and taking down the Fanged Disciples. Your monastery would be safe, and you would never have to fear further attacks from them in the future." Devrim paused for a moment, letting the thought take root in the Drabatan's mind. It would take some resources for the Alliance to do so, but in the end it would be profitable for both. "In return, we only ask that you aid us in the fight against the Empire. Their grip on the Galaxy is the same as the Fanged Disciples' reign of terror on Jedha. Once your own home is liberated, your expertise and resources would be beyond helpful to the Galactic Alliance." Raising a hand and clenching it into a fist, Devrim finished his inspirational words. "Help us free innocents across the Galaxy from Imperial rule."

Dralbac looked down upon the Rebel Commander and Crix with scrutinizing eyes. "I'm not wasting our few resources in a fruitless cause! Fighting the Empire is suicide. We will be safe here on Jedha, as we always have been." With such a refusal, Devrim stepped forward and opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, but stopped himself as another wounded Drabatan spoke up. Turning, the Rebel Commander saw his own Wolf Squadron medic leading in the wounded rebel that they had saved earlier. "They saved me, Father. They care about us and our cause. Listen to them."

For a moment, the aged Drabatan was speechless. The fact that the rebels had saved his own son from death clearly weighed heavily upon the leader of the Votary. Taking a deep breath and turning his wrinkled face into further knots, he mumbled something incoherent before finally speaking again to the Rebel Commander. "I owe you the life of my son, and for that I will listen. Come with me, and we'll discuss the terms of the Galactic Alliance." Standing, the leader motioned toward a side office in the monastery. A smile returning to Devrim's face, he patted Crix' shoulder before they followed the Drabatan into the room. Their work had been finished, and hopefully it would be the beginning of a fruitful and successful alliance.

Fin​

@Zay​