Chalco
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Post by Chalco on Mar 23, 2015 14:37:19 GMT -8
He watched with amusement as Morgan removed the quiver of arrows from her shoulder, setting both it and her tiny bow down on an empty desk. Stepping fully out of the storage room he allowed the door to whizz shut behind him, laying the Ithorians suit out on the table next to the bow and quiver. He was just stepping into his own suit when her voice called out to ask for his assistance. With deft movements he hiked the bulk suit up and over his shoulders, letting the hood-like mask dangle about his shoulders.
"Turn around..."
He crouched as she complied and fastened the straps at the back of her suit, pushing the mask up over her head so the clear faceplate hung down over her face. Clinching the back as tight as he could so as to account for the extra dimensions it possessed when on her slight frame, he then straightened to step around her as Molan returned from securing the samples. As the Ithorian hastily donned his own equipment Chalco leaned down to secure Morgans mask.
"Just breathe normally. The suit is a closed environment and will feed you air from these..."
He turned slightly and gestured to the small tanks that were housed in the back of the suits, a contained air purification system that would last several hours. The pack also contained an emergency magcon field should the suit rupture or in some other way fail. He didn't see any need to worry the small girl with such things so he left such details unsaid.
=Molan= "Are we ready?"
The was no mistaking the urgency in the Ithorians gravelly voice and Chalco turned to see the alien wringing his hands slightly as he watched the Falleen pull his own mask into place. Molan had already secured his own and was standing next to the decontamination room awaiting their readiness.
"Patience, my friend. You have said yourself many a time that such actions as this must not be rushed."
With his mask in place he looked down at Morgan, peering at her through the faceplate of his mask. With a wave of his hand he gestured her forward towards Molan and the decontamination room, following along behind her as she preceded him through the door. Once through Molan went directly to a control panel to their immediate right and hit a big green switch. Joining them in the middle of the room they waited as the lights dimmed and red lights flashed a countdown in front of them.
Machinery in the ceiling and floor whirled to life as the red lights finished their countdown and disappeared. First to happened was the emergence of a fine mist steaming out from vents in the ceiling. It drifted down to settle on their suits, glittering like millions of tiny stars in the reflected light from the control panels various colours. Looking like they were not wearing suits of sparkling diamonds the three figures remained still as robotic arms whirred out from the ceiling to spin around them in a lazy circle, spraying them with some kind of clear liquid, a fine spray that joined the shining coat that they already wore. Tiny rivulets ran down their suits to form a strange jigsaw-like pattern. The light changed from a deep red to a sickly green as yet more arms folded out, this time from the floor. The blast of gas thundered out to obscure their vision, enough force rocking them slightly as they stood. The spray died off and another loud whirring sound heralded the return of the vents, this time sucking the excess gasses from the room.
Chalco has reached out to offer Morgan his hand during the last blast of gas roared out, partly for comfort and partly to steady her should she need. The process had barely finished before Molan was moving to complete the programme and open the way forward into the clean lab.
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Chalco
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Post by Chalco on Mar 17, 2015 1:16:30 GMT -8
The Falleen Jedi nodded his head gravely. His expression remained serious though the slight twitch of his lip betrayed his amusement at her words. With aplomb he extended his hand to indicate she should proceed, Molans impatience clear in the Force as he waited just within the turbolift itself.
"Very well, little one."
With a swirl of emerald robes he followed after her, stepping into the elevator besides the Ithorian. He rested his hands on Morgans shoulders as the door whisked closed in front of them as Molan once again swiped his ID over the reader to get them moving. A light blazed from the control panel to scan Molan's retina, repeated the process with both Chalco and Morgan. The Jedi Master wasn't sure by what criteria the computer analysed who was to be admitted but it seemed that all of them had the required access to descend to the secure area, a fact he found rather amusing.
After a few seconds the door whispered open and Molan stepped out, hurrying off towards one of the sealed laboratories situated down here. Chalco was more relaxed in his debarking, stepping slowly forward to cast his eyes around and to allow Morgan to take the scene in.
The turbolift opened into a small foyer area, a space of about twelve meters by ten with the longest distance stretch ahead. A desk area was situated in the middle of the far side with doors to either end. It was through one of these doors that Molan moved, getting ready to take such tests as he needed to. To the right there was a huge transparisteel window the looked into a room that had several strange tubes that looked like bacta tanks, some of which contained some form of plant, animal or substance. The tanks varied in size and there were about a dozen of them, with what appeared to be other storage devices behind them along the wall. Access to that room seemed to be through a door in the right hand wall from where the foyer looked in. Opposite this room, to their left, was a glass tank of some sort with a murk substance within. At roughly a meter and half across, half a meter high thick, it rested on a table in front of another transparisteel window behind which was another room. This one had a metal table with various devices on it, some of which looked to be restraints. A lot of the implements looked pretty gruesome, almost giving the room a torture chamber aspect.
The door through which Molan went contained a decontamination room as did the other door in the far wall, both of which led to clean rooms within which one could examine biological samples. There was one more door behind the desk that led to a small room with environmental suits.
It was to this room that Chalco led Morgan, his manner now grim and reserved. The door slid open at his approach and he spent a moment rummaging around in a locker. Finally he stepped back and produced three suits. Two were fairly large, one of which obviously for an Ithorian judging by the faceplate. The third was much smaller. He held it out to Morgan.
"It probably won't fit you very well..." He spoke with apology in his tone and a slight shrug of the shoulders. "It was designed for a Sullustan medic who has sometimes helped here. Its the closest thing we have to your size."
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Chalco
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Post by Chalco on Mar 16, 2015 19:26:44 GMT -8
The labs were a sprawling complex that housed just about every form of modern and historical science the galaxy had dreamed up over the years, devoting resources and lab space to many a discipline. Situated on the ground floor, set back from the main area that contained the small foyer, the bio labs were a semi-isolated unit that contained labs, cooling chambers, dedicated information center, small comm room, a priority medical suite, as well as an extensive quarantine area. It was also linked to the medical facility across from the tech labs by a sealed corridor with high level security access.
Further back, passed the labs and through several access hatches, there was a secure turbolift that descended several floors to labs set up to house dangerous materials of biological nature, be them natural or artificial. Protocols set in place would prevent the spread of any such materials to the surface, including a destruction protocol that would sear the labs in airborne fire should the need arise.
It was towards this area that Chalco followed the Ithorian, Morgan hurrying along to keep up with their steady pace. Molan moved with purpose as he made his way passed several security doors, his ID taking him through each point with a beep and a whoosh of a sealed door. He slowed as they neared the turbolift, a frown crossing his face as he looked to Morgan.
"You must be wary down here, Morgan. This is a place full of things that can harm you. There are lifeforms down here with only the goal of destroying other lifeforms on their agenda. It is not a nice place, child..."
Concern etched his brow as he glanced over her head back the way they had come.
"Perhaps it is best you do not come down to the secure labs...? You can keep track of what is going on from up here..."
Even as he said it he suspected she would insist on accompanying the all the way. Still, he had to stress his concerns for her well being despite the subtle urgings of the Force that seemed to insist that she would be a help to them.
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Chalco
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Post by Chalco on Mar 16, 2015 14:51:16 GMT -8
The old Jedi smiled at her, marvelling at her determination and optimism. Her faith in her 'mother', her faith in the Force, buoyed him somewhat, gave him hope in a resolution. It was strange that he would be the one to be soothed by the words of the child but then he'd known since he first met her that this child was special. Her connection to the Living Force was as profound as he had ever encountered in a lifeform and it lent her wisdom beyond her years, a serenity that sometimes ran at odds with her childlike nature and appearance.
With a nod of his head the tall Falleen rose and placed a gentle hand upon her head almost in benediction. His gaze took in Molan who seemed equally in awe of the child's reaction. Chalco's smile remained in place despite the deep seated worry that gnawed at his resolve as he cast his eyes around for a moment.
"You are right, child. Who are we to know the workings of the Force in such matters. We are but motes in the wind to the mysteries that sustain us."
He gestured to Molan to lead the way to the labs, gentle guiding Morgan to walk with them.
"Come. Let us see what science can tell us and compare it to the will of the Force."
Following Molan he made his way towards the interior of the Jedi base...
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Chalco
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Post by Chalco on Mar 14, 2015 6:15:23 GMT -8
He was about to turn and hurry to the lab when the small voice called up to him. He had not felt her approach such was her own presence intertwined within the overall sense of Felucia herself, the small girl seemingly as much a part of the planet as any being could be. His eyes looked down to her own emerald orbs peering up at him with such intensity and focus that it was hard to equate said eyes to the childhood body that they were a part of. Concern mingled with curiosity, something Chalco could understand having being young once himself. Saying that, he struggled to remember such a time, so long ago in the dusty remnants of his past.
Casting a glance at Molan the tall Falleen crouched low, dropping to one knee in front of the small child. There was no deceiving her, no hiding the truth of what they had found no matter how much it may upset her. Chalco never even contemplated such a path. She would know. Somehow she always knew when the subject was to do with Felucia and Chalco's sad eyes matched her jade intensity.
"We found a dead Flying Manta, child. It had been poisoned by the same rot you found all those weeks ago..."
He paused, watching her reaction carefully. Despite her seeming maturity at times Chalco reminded himself constantly that she was still just a little girl no matter how she bore such responsibility. Somehow the planet itself moved through her, within her, and it often thrust her to the fore of such situations. He watched for despair... fear... any emotion that may require comfort. He had only just begun teaching Morgan along with several others at the base but had already developed a bond with her, much like he had with Felia on Yavin IV. The two were strikingly similar in so many ways and the Jedi Master marvelled at the way the Force moved within such treasures.
"Molan thinks that the Spore Plants have suffered infection and are now releasing spores that are also corrupted by this ailment. He has tests and will seek to investigate further..." The Ithorian held up the case and nodded his huge head in confirmation. "But things don't look good. The spread is greater than we had hoped and we are still no closer to understanding."
His eyes closed for a moment and he blew out a breath. Opening them again he looked at Morgan with a steady gaze, watching carefully for some hint that she may know something about the planet that may help.
"The Force was even more disrupted, as if sickened somehow..."
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Chalco
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Post by Chalco on Mar 13, 2015 23:32:17 GMT -8
The speeder had outrun the rain on its way back to the Jedi Base, the landscape of Felucia sweeping past in a blur of colour as it sped along a meter above the ground. Its approach brought it in from the South-West, speeding along the banks of the river to curve around the base itself, following the Western edge to enter the hangar bay at the back. Cruising through the doors the old Sorosuub V-35 Courier slid in amongst the ships, navigating its way towards the berth where vehicles of her class were normally housed, out of the way of the space-going vessels. The dull green surface looked in need of a re-spray but the mechanics worked just fine and it settled in place besides a blue speeder of the same type with a minimal of fuss.
Shutting off the engine and let the craft settle on its repulsors before taking his hands from the controls and rubbing them over his face. His mind still struggled with the unnatural feel of the area just outside the Rancors Graveyard, the strange sensations still worrying at his concern. Molan had been more silent than his usual vociferous self too, arms wrapped around the case he had brought, a case they hoped would contain some answers. Breaking the reverie of both him and the Ithorian Chalco cleared his throat and heaved himself out of the pilots chair. Molan seemed to shake himself, as if coming out of some dream and followed suit. He had run tests on the way back and had confirmed that neither of them had traces of the black liquid on them and all bio scans came up clean. Chalco had still reached out to study them with the Force, preferring to perform his own scans. Neither of their life forces seemed affected and the strange disturbance, the strange absence of cohesion, seemed not to have followed them from the area.
He stretched languidly as he looked around, the long drive taking effect on his ageing bones. The hangar was much as they had left it, a bustling hive of activity much like many others he had visited. The camaraderie here, the fellowship among the residence, both Jedi and civilian alike reminded him of Yavin IV, prompting a sad smile to cross his reptilian features.
"I remember the first time I came here..." His voice was wistful, surprising Molan somewhat with his reminiscence. "It was such a bright day. The jungles shone in the distance, blazing as if challenging the brilliance of the sun herself. The wind whispered across the plains, a voice in itself as it sang softly to all those that dwelt beneath her kiss."
His eyes drifted closed as he thought of the dark conditions and worrying death of the Manta, trying reconcile those concerns with the bright future the past had seemed to offer. His eyes drifted open again, turning to the Ithorian who was watching him strangely.
"I have visited many worlds, my friend. Many planets teeming with life. On every one of them the Force spoke, sometimes a whisper sometimes a shout..."
He turned and looked passed the activity of starship being fueled, out of the hangar to the approaching night. His hands came across his body to bury themselves in the sleeves of his robe as Molan came to stand next to him, peering at him with a quizzical expression. His left mouth twitched slightly into what a human may mistake for a grin and opened as it spoke.
=Molan Bawad= "And here?"
Chalco smiled and looked at the scientist with eyes that held over a century of wisdom.
"Here it sings."
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Chalco
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Post by Chalco on Mar 13, 2015 21:16:39 GMT -8
The sky crackled with the hint of thunder, clouds rolling against each other to shroud the day in an ever deepening blanket of gloom. The air was more humid than normal as Felucia herself seemed to be uncomfortable with the conditions, building up to a cleansing rain in an effort to wash away the taint. To the south lay the fabled Rancor Graveyard, itself containing a nightmarish aspect that the murky conditions did little to alleviate. To the North, East and West the jungles of Felucia stretched to each horizon, the latter punctuated by the dirty grey ribbon of a river. Usually vibrant and garish in the light of the systems ultraviolet star the plant life seemed grey and decayed in the meagre light, absent the shining aspect it often portrayed. The normally bright and glittering fungai cast a forlorn look as it huddled mournfully beneath the grim skies.
Perhaps it was just his imagination, Chalco Gannor thought as he looked out towards the Graveyard, his thoughts as gloomy as the scene around him. Perhaps it was just his mood reflecting the dismal conditions, provoked to paranoid delusions of insidious designs. Alas, he thought, it would be nice if such worries could be explained by such anxious flights of fancy but he knew it not to be so. The Force thrummed with the signs of torments and corruption here, the symbiotic flow of the planet interrupted in fits and starts, drowned by strange pockets of absence that swirled through the teeming stream of life like poison. Felucia was the most Force-rich world he had come to know but here something had changed the life, a creeping illness that was now starting to spread itself across the world. While still isolated to an extent the malady seemed not only to effect the plant and wildlife but seemed to permeate the very soul of the planet itself. Some kind of deviation sinking its roots into the very being of Felucia. The Jedi here had felt it as Chalco felt it now and had taken steps to correct the problem, to little avail.
His gaze turned away from the distant bones to look down at the stricken creature that lay on the floor, tail half-resting in a small stream that tumbled over the rocky ground to pour down to a pool thirty feet below. The Flying Manta worked its mouth in what seemed to the Falleen Jedi to be silent screams and he could feel its pain as it died before his eyes. He had done what he could for the ailing creature but the rot inside had been too much for the Force to correct. He had wanted to end the creatures suffering but Molan Bawad had insisted that he'd get better data from it were it still alive, something that Chalco had conceded to with great difficulty. The Ithorian huddled over the Manta now, taking samples of the black fluid that ran from the creatures orifices, a vile liquid that seemed to sizzle the skin as it broke free. He could feel the wrongness of the fluid. Not anything dark, just wrong. Alien. It seemed to twisting the tendrils of life as seen through the Force, swirling it down into a black hole of nothingness. It disturbed Chalco more than the pain of the Manta.
=Molan Bawad= "Its dead..."
Indeed the creatures mouth had stopped moving and the slow rise and fall of its torso had become still. Likewise the garbled presence of the Force had left, allowing the creature to return to its embrace. At least Chalco hoped so. With such pollution muddying the waters it was hard to say what deviations life took here...
He scratched his face just above where the breath mask covered his mouth, squinting his eyes at the approaching storm. The clouds were fighting now, thunder beginning to grumble its way towards an outburst as the static discharged became larger and more frequent. He tore his eyes away and glanced down into the slight depression where the stream emptied into the pool. The Spore Plant sat silently next to the pool, its tendrils and pod sack silent. Malan Bawad had thought that the Manta had drifted to close in an effort to drink and had been poisoned by the spores the plant could release. While usually a natural act on this planet it was the nature of the death that concerned the Ithorian scientist. While the spores could indeed be lethal they had never been contagious and had never killed in a way such as this, transmuting the flesh and tissue, even the very DNA, into something completely different. Something completely at odds with nature here. The black fiscal residue was high in nutrient and the like but seemed to work a different way than most of the life here, poisoning what couldn't absorb it. Chalco could see the black veins spider-webbing the surface of the Spore Plant, spreading up the stem and out through the pods.
A flash of lightning highlighted the scene, followed almost immediately by a savage snarl of thunder. The wind picked up, whipping his robe about his legs and flapping his top knot insistently in its grip. A drop hit his bare forehead, and another, and soon the rain was hammering down.
=Chalco Gannor= "Come doctor. It is time to go."
The huge head turned towards him, the leathery skin glistening in the rain. Straightening from where he had been crouched over the poor Manta he gestured insistently towards the Spore Plant, words growling out from both mouths to give the sound a dual aspect.
=Molan Bawad= "But.... I must study the Spore Plant. If it did indeed cause this illness then I must study it."
Chalco waved away the protest and turned towards the speeder.
=Chalco Gannor= "Another time. This storm is going to get ugly and I have no intention of allowing you to poke around with a dangerous life form in it."
He gestured towards the speeder and waited why the Ithorian gathered up his equipment. Grumbling the scientist made his way to the speeder and got inside while another glaring flash lit up the sky. The rumbling thunder seemed like the discontent of the planet to the Jedi, a disquieting moan of sorrow for the departed Manta.
With one last look at the creature, now little more than a blob of disjointed flesh and bone as the black substance ate away at its physical form, Chalco Gannor got into the pilots seat. With deft movements he started the engine and got the speeder moving, steering it back towards the Jedi base.
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Chalco
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Post by Chalco on Oct 25, 2013 16:32:26 GMT -8
Just passing through...
"Yes, Dav possesses many such talents..."
His eyes held hers for a moment, his urbane smile holding steady despite some misgivings. She was obviously designed for war and conflict. He poise and demeanor fairly yelled it to the calm and serene Falleen. His own distaste at war and strife flushed his skin slightly, pheromones reacting slightly to his distress, momentarily escaping the rigid control with which they were usually regulated. His eyes dropped for a second, a tiny moment, before returning to her face. He hoped that any reaction was hidden, or at least vague enough not to give the impression he disapproved. That was certainly not the case. It was war he disliked not the warriors who fought it, no matter what their reason. Even his enemies he felt compassion, their misguided path to destruction one of the worst curses a being could bear. To ruin all before you before being laid to waste yourself...
His hand drifted to his injured side, a wince marring his features for a moment. He inhaled, feeling the warm flow of the Force enter, its calming nature washing over him and drowning out the sense of conflict that thundered all around them. Some would thrive of such chaos, the more forceful of their order gaining strength from a righteous enacting of justice. Not him. He sought that beautiful inner peace, that core of serenity, that tranquil oasis that could never, would never, be touched by the disharmony around him.
"Forgive me," His smile widened despite the pain, a whimsical expression hiding nothing of the shrewd appraisal he was giving her."I am not looking my best."
Just passing through...
Something about the way she had said it stirred something in the Force, a nebulous feeling, tenuous even. Conflict and mistrust surrounded her yet she stood firm within the uncertainty. Unsure of her path perhaps but willing to walk it anyway, trying out a new way no matter how uncomfortable it may be at first.
Just passing through.
He words to him had also contributed to his smile even if he did not quite understand their meaning. He made her uncomfortable too, it seemed. Perhaps for the same reason. Perhaps not. That she was here and willing to help was all that mattered to the wizened Jedi, a seasoned fighter would be a boon in the grim days ahead...
"Glad to have you with us, Lita Trykk. The Force guides us strangely at times but guide us it does."
His eyes also too on a distant look, a faraway gaze all the more disconcerting in his Reptilian eyes.
"Guide us it will..."
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Chalco
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Post by Chalco on Aug 14, 2013 7:44:48 GMT -8
With a nod to Dav as the other Jedi turned away to deal with the matter that was brought to his attention Chalco turned his emerald gaze on the Irdonian female as she voiced her desire to assist. He didn't know her but was already impressed by her firm determination and poise. This was one at home in the theater of combat, he thought. She would be needed in the coming trials.
"Of course..."
His words were soft and sibilant, possessing the mesmerising quality common for his kind.
"Perhaps we can achieve our ends with an adept of the white current, one who has the skill but lacks the power. Others can then assist to fuel such an undertaking..."
He was theorising with this as he had no idea whether such a feat would be possible. He would have to seek an adept of the Falanassi technique out and that would be difficult given the limited nature of his possible investigations. With a quick glance at Dav, looking concerned again with some of the news he had received, Chalco finally recalled his manners and returned his attention to the woman.
"Forgive me, miss..."
Offering a deep bow of introduction he straightened and flashed her a tired smile, his wounds screaming at him to seek some rest.
"I am Chalco, a teacher here."
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Chalco
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Post by Chalco on Jul 15, 2013 12:11:26 GMT -8
Chalco had dipped his head in return to the Zabrak female, also impressed with her assessment of the situation. His own expression thoughtful throughout the diatribe he nodded his head slowly as Dav joined them and outlined his idea. is own knowledge wasn't likely any more extensive than Dav's, at least in application, but he voiced what he knew anyway.
"The Fallanassi were very adept at smoothing those ripples to ease their passing. I also believe that their extensive ability at the immersion technique meant that they had little affinity for any other Force powers..."
He nodded at Dav's reference to Luke Skywalker, having also researched the great Masters actions of that time.
"Skywalker was considered a rare example of a Jedi being so proficient int he skill, many having tried and failed to employ the technique to the levels that the Fallanassi women were able."
His emerald eyes took on a distant look for a moment as he recalled what he could of the quasi-religious order.
"There was little in the archives about its application when I researched it but I would assume it is not much different than the use of Force Illusion in theory, probably closer to the Force Concealment. Burying oneself in the Force. I would also hazard a guess that the caster would need to exert considerable concentration to achieve ends such as we're suggesting."
He shrugged apologetically, eyes tight from the pain that flared in his injured shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I know little more and even less about actually practicing the art."
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Chalco
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Post by Chalco on Jul 4, 2013 12:59:51 GMT -8
Chalco winced. The reaction was partly due to the pain in his shoulder but mainly due to the losses they had suffered. He silently added the fighter pilots to his growing list of dead, bowing his head for a moment in mourning. His green eyes came up to flicker over Dav, sweep around the room, then finally return to Majos Owains.
"Indeed it could Major..."
His mind flashed briefly over how close the Mandalorians had been to discovering the hidden shield generator when they had pursued them back from the jungle. His eyes closed for a moment, a slow blink, as he attempted to sort out his chaotic thoughts. Calm was becoming hard to harness for him as the strain of war began to tell on them all. The pain and suffering alone was enough to drive them to distraction, adding the worries for those under their care only served to heighten his frustrations. His gaze drifted again to Dav. Was he also feeling the pressure? As Chalco looked at the man he thought he could see a tightness around the eyes, a heavy droop to his shoulders, perhaps a sigh waiting to be exhaled. The Falleen smiled to himself as he realised how foolish he was being. While all that may be true he was focusing on the negative. There was nothing submissive about Dav Man'Sell even here and now. The pain was there for sure but the defiant gleam still maintained its constant vigil in those dark brown eyes, challenging any that should attempt to invade his bastion of peace. His shoulders may have felt heavy but they were straight and firm in the face of the odds stacked against them, holding up under the pressure of Mando aggression. His sense in the Force too was solid; avoiding wavering from one extreme to the other, not registering in the deep depths of sorrow or despair, nor subscribing to the anger and rage that floated heavy on the air. While Gannor was sure he felt all these emotions and more Dav tempered them with the iron will of one used to strife. One used to dealing with it and having discovered a working method that required no loss of desire or soul inn what he did. This was no Jedi robot but a man at ease with himself and what he must do to further the goal of the Jedi, to carry the light in this darkest of times.
Gannor nodded his head in silent praise at the man, his own resolve hardening as he looked back to the Major. He was concerned as to the situation in orbit. With the Jedi fleets scattered only the ion cannons were stopping the Mando warships from directly assaulting the Praxeum. While the shield defended them there was little to stop the Mando's from burning them out by setting ablaze the jungles around them. Even in the wet season enough concentrated fire to reduce the surrounding area into a burning inferno and smoke them out from under the shield.
"Do we still have guards in place around the shield generator and the ion cannons?"
His lips formed into a thin, grim line.
"Its only a matter of time before they strike at them..."
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Chalco
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Post by Chalco on Jun 22, 2013 12:04:30 GMT -8
*Either the Falleen had the best sabacc face ever or he genuinely didn't know who Dav was talking to. After all it was likely something from before his time, him having only been here a year or so. He shrugged his shoulders in response to Major Owains glance, wincing as the pain flared in his shoulder once again, the burns tightening the flesh uncomfortably as the bacta patches sought to do heir job. He kept his attention on Dav, awaiting the outcome of the comm conversation, while he occasionally checked over the various displays for progress and updates.*
"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough, son..."
*He smiled slightly but the expression seemed forced and certainly didn't carry to his eyes.*
"Its been a strange few days and I'm not about to start predicting Master Man'Sell."
*He looked around to locate the sensor displays of orbit, narrowing his eyes as he squinted at the scene depicted.*
"Any updates on the station or the situation in orbit?"
He looked around again but could spot the appropriate display.*
"Where are our fighters?"
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Chalco
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Post by Chalco on Jun 14, 2013 6:49:30 GMT -8
*Chalco stepped into the War Room and paused to glance around at the various displays, taking a moment to analyse the situation outside the Praxeum walls. A report from Master Madoon caught his eye and he stepped over to the appropriate console, gesturing for one of the orderlies to call up the hastily compiled document. He winced as his shoulder and upper arms burned, struggling with his movements when he leaned over the shoulder of the young Bothan to peer at the screen. There had been an encounter with Mandalorian forces outside the entrance to the Great Temple. Two fatalities. One trooper dead from enemy fire and one Jedi. Chalco knew before he read on that it was Dace, having felt the dimming of the Force several hours previously. While at the time he hadn't known who it was, his unfamiliarity with the man making it unlikely he would have associated the feeling with the mans death, he know knew with certainty what had befallen the former Sith come redeemed Jedi. While with so much death and destruction going on could numb one to such a loss, Chalco was not the kind of man to idly shrug off the death of his comrades. The nameless soldier from Beta Team and Dace Concordia settled in Chalco's mind along with the twelve soldiers lost in the jungle following Mike and his rescue of Felia and Brakus. They all joined the growing list of those that had fallen in this war, a list of those that had given their precious lives to preserve the peace of the Jedi, laying down their souls for their ideals and freedom.
He watched the footage, alternating shots from the troopers cams and the surveillance devices set up outside the Praxeum and Temple proper. The incoming fire came streaking in from unknown assailants, the Mando attackers being careful to remain unseen. All apart from one. The computer systems gave it a ninety-three point seven percent chance that the black-clad figure was Ashrah Intalbo, Mand'alor of the Mandalorian Empire. Chalco's emerald eyes narrowed as he watched the video through again. The Mandalorian leader displayed impressive strength by hurling the body of Concordia, a man of towering height, and went on to show insolent disdain for the Jedi defenders by standing there and taunting them openly. He burned the image of the armoured form into his mind as he watched the man turn and, with a mocking wave to Zuli, disappear back into the woods.
The gauntlet had been thrown down it seemed. The open disregard and savage state of Dace's body making it clear that this man meant to wipe them out no matter what the cost. A chill settled over Chalco as he realised for the first time that the Mandalorians would follow this man into genocide in this endeavor, an unmerciful wave of Beskar that would seek to drown them all.
He glanced at the man sat at the control station he had commandeered, seeing the same trepidation in the Bothans face, the furry snout twitching in what Chalco had come to recognise as unease.*
"Courage my friend..."
*His voice was soft, barely above a whisper as he straightened and glanced around the Strategy Center. Spying Dav across the room, hand pressed to a headset, the Falleen Jedi Master lay a bandaged hand on the young operators shoulder.*
"There isn't a better place to weather a storm than here..."
*He glanced up at the ceiling for a moment before removing his hand and moving gingerly across the room towards Dav. His gait was slow and tender, favouring his right-hand side heavily. The bandages and bacta patches were stifling to him, interfering with his circulation, the glands with which he could distribute his pheromones making them all the more uncomfortable.*
"Even a storm raining Beskar..."
*He muttered the last with something close to dread, shaking his head in frustration before stopping next to Major Owains. He nodded respectfully to the wily veteran, smiling as he gestured back towards the turbolift, drawing a flash of pain and a wince as he stretched his wounds with the movement.
"The other Owains. I just left your brother in the hangar bay."
*It was likely that the Major knew where his brother was but in times as dire as these Chalco assumed it would be nice to know that ones family were safe and well the last time they had been seen. Alex and Ni'kor Owains were typical of the good men and women that defended Yavin IV. The unassuming heroes that put their lives on the line alongside their Jedi peers, every bit as important to the well being of their charges as their saber-wielding allies.
"I don't understand the Gands jokes like your brother does but they seemed to be in good spirits when I left them."
*His eyes moved to Dav, noting that the Jedi Battlemaster was frowning as he spoke into the headset, his aura in the Force spiking with surprise.*
"What's going on?"
*He addressed the question to Majos Owains but spoke loud enough for Dav to hear and note his presence. Not that Chalco thought for one second his arrival had escaped the enigmatic Jedi's meticulous awareness...*
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Chalco
Member
You can lead a man to water but you can't make him think.
Posts: 55
Affiliation: Jedi Praxuem of Yavin IV
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Post by Chalco on Jun 1, 2013 12:23:10 GMT -8
*Moving with pace towards the turbolifts, quick but controlled strides, Chalco Gannor winced slightly as his shoulder burned in pain, the blaster wounds reminding him of the previous days struggle. His upper body was heavily bandaged, bacta patches plastered over his right-hand chest area, bicep, and shoulder. His teeth ground together as he recalled how much the defense of the temple had cost them and mourned silently that it was just the beginning of the pain and suffering that was sure to come. A mix of relief and anger dwelt in his heart as he thought of the two truants he and Mike had found and returned to the Praxeum, shipping them off immediately to safer shores. Though they had been saved from their fate in the Jungle, the cost to the good men and women of the PTF had been high indeed. The location of the shield generators had also nearly been compromised due to the rash actions of the two younglings, the Mandalorians nearly stumbling upon the site in their pursuit of the small squad, led by Mike and Chalco as they fled back towards the Temple, their two errant charges in tow. True the kids had held up admirably under the strain of being put in such a situation, even combining to foil one of the ruthless warriors that had been trying to draw a bead on Chalco, actually saving him from injury or maybe even death. They had combined their power to tear a branch from an overhead tree, sending the limb crashing down onto the Mandalorians head and foiling his shot. The blaster bolt, instead of burning through the Falleens chest had seared through his upper arm, a painful but not serious injury.
He smiled as he remembered the wide-eyes enthusiasm of the two as they jumped up and down celebrating their small victory with the exuberance and joviality that only children can muster. The smile didn't last as he recalled the next few minutes. The downed Mando rising from the tumble of leaves and branch that had felled him, his visor glowing an evil red as he raised his blaster. Chalco's saber had flashed out, a desperate throw that had taken the mans hand off at the wrist despite his near-impervious armour. The man didn't flinch, didn't how out in pain, as he brought his other hand up to lob the grenade towards the two helpless children. Chalco could imagine the grin behind the faceplate as the man ducked back behind a tree. He had yelled out, raising his left hand and grabbing both children in the Force, hauling them back and out of the blast zone. His right hand came up to erect a hasty barrier of Force energy as the detonator exploded with fiery rage, knocking him off his feet. He winced once again as he remembered the pain of the burns and other wounds, splinters from shredded tree's piercing his flesh along his right-hand side.
Only Mike, the children and he had made it back, the twelve troopers that were with them either lost in the wilderness or victims to the ferocity of the Mandalorian invaders. Twelve brave men and women who had been willing to fall behind to secure the safe passage of the two Jedi and their charges. A flash of guilt invaded the pain and sorrow, the regret that he had not stayed to buy the others a way out. To save them as he had saved Felia and Brakus. He wondered briefly if Mike was wracked with the same sense of shame that he felt, perhaps drowning out the feeling with a bottle of Whyren's like he seemed to do with everything else. Well, thought Chalco grimly, if it works for him... He had tried such remedies in the past but to no avail. The horror of war had always forced its way past the perpetual fog of drink and drugs, cutting like a laser right through any defenses of rationalisation and justification he could employ, freezing his soul with the misery of survivors guilt. If Mike could find haven in such circumstances then good for him. Its was Chalco's lot, it seemed, to always be thrust into the theater of war no matter how fast he tried to run for it, or how deeply he tried to hide.
He entered the turbolift and ascended to level two, his mind dragging itself back the the here and now. He'd just come from the hangar where he'd ordered all available craft counted and made ready, that included those in deep storage. Even now ships were being brought up from the sub-levels below the main hangar bay, those non-military craft being refitted with whatever weapons they could scrounge. The lift doors opened and he stepped out, traversing the short hallway and stepping into the War Room, preparing his report to Dav...*
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