https://docs.google.com/document/d/1PZuB5M-Pl9q6hY78sbHGepk0ZSzRqY3_x5hTi9OFQEg/edit?usp=sharing

The War Is Over…
KP Kordath Bleu d’Tana

The Tipsy Rancor was winding down for the night as the patrons began stumbling to their homes or barracks for the evening. In a few scant hours daylight would be breaking through the dusty windows at the front of the cantina, and many would regret this night’s festivities. But for now a few stalwart, dedicated alcoholics remained within their temple of bad decisions. Service droids were already picking through the debris of empty glasses and nut bowls while a trio of Arconans sat with their drinks.

A bottle sat in the center of the small, round table. Upon the label in Aubresh it proclaimed itself to be ‘the finest spirits this side of the Core’, though it didn’t state which side of the Core that was. The amber liquid within was past the halfway point, and it was obvious from looking at the three who sat around it, where it’d gone. Bits of shells from nuts and the occasional burn mark from a missed ashing attempt littered the table top, accompanied by three sets of glasses.

Nearest to the bar sat a Human, his somber expression marred slightly by the glazed look in his eyes. The lone Obelisk of the trio lifted his shot glass to the two Krath sitting with him, who lifted theirs in silent acknowledgement, before they all drank. To his left, the Ryn poured a fresh round, while the Miraluka woman sipped a beer to wash down the taste of whiskey. For the barkeep working that night it had been an unsettling evening, watching these three. He was happy that many of the Arconan’s that had gone to Korriban had come back alive, they were good customers.

And these three were some of his best, and usually raunchiest and uncouth. But they appreciated his work and tipped well; they also rarely caused any actual trouble. The number of fights he’d watched the Miraluka and Ryn break up by ordering drinks for the would be brawlers had also saved him a lot on damages over the last two years. It was worrying, watching the two of them, and their Obelisk companion, drink in silence all night. He watched as they did another mute toast, knocking back the whiskey and filling up the glasses once more.

Laying next to the Miraluka’s beer was a datapad, screen turned on still but for the most part untouched. Earlier the three had passed it around, marking names off of the list on display. This too had been done in silence, and strangely in sobriety. Only after the datapad had been put down had the Ryn approached the bar and quietly place an order for the table. A bottle of whiskey, three beers and glasses, and the gentle suggestion that the Lady at the table would prefer these things keep coming.

The barkeep hadn’t argued, he knew better and he could tell how battered the group was emotionally. Besides, the Miraluka was starting a new job tomorrow, and he wanted to stay in her good graces when she took the Throne. He didn’t bother them as they filed out, hours past closing time. The Miraluka paused at the door, hugging the Ryn and the Human before they headed off to the quarters Galeres had on world, and she turned towards the Citadel.

When he cleaned their table he found the datapad still there, and found the list of names that they’d been crossing off. He grimaced, placing it behind the bar. They probably would be back for that, someday.

--Fin

New Tython
Menat Ombo
Visulu Marketplace

There was no better place for Droveth to find peace on this entire planet than in the Visulu Marketplace. The padawan was seated atop a warehouse, deep in a meditative state. His mind drifted slowly out of the trance as he heard the sound of laughter. Droveth opened his eyes and drank in the warmth of the midday sun. This building was where he found tranquility, but what it contained he had no idea. At one point it was a fish market, before that it was a brewery. The owners had always seemed happy to have a Jedi around, even if he was just going up the to roof. They never bothered him, always left him in peace.

The bustle of the marketplace reminded the young Consular of home. He often daydreamed about his days on Talus, running through the city delivering food as a boy. Before the conflicts he daydreamed to remind himself where he came from, so he would never forget. Now it was so he could forget the horrors he had seen. Droveth laid down on the rooftop and stared into the sky, watching a shuttle etch a line through the clouds.

Although he had not seen much actual combat during the battles on Korriban, the Disciples had been a heavy presence after they ended. It was their duty to assist in the healing process, the help care for the wounded and remove the dead. Droveth was not a healer, but he had done his part. Over seven hours of constant movement, carrying the dead to their graves or to caskets to send them home. He collected lost limbs and returned them to their owners, alive or otherwise. The jedi had ensured that everyone found peace, including the fallen Sith. When he finally boarded the shuttle to leave, the Consular stripped from his bloodsoaked, muddy robes and cried.

The memories flooded back into his mind, but he did not stop them. They were part of him now, part of what fueled his desire for peace. No people, evil or not, should see death on that magnitude. More laughter broke the silence, and he opened his eyes to see the sun was now setting.

“I must have fallen asleep...” Droveth sighed, pulling himself to his feet and brushing off the sand. The marketplace was still alive with business, and the torches were just beginning to be lit. He climbed down from the roof and made his way slowly through the streets, stopping to talk with a few of the locals he had befriended. Now was the time to go and train, to better himself so he could help more the next time.

‘There will always be a next time,’ Droveth thought to himself, ‘if there wasn’t, well, nobody would need the Jedi.’ He climbed onto the shuttle and entered in the coordinates for the Arca Praxeum. He watched through the window as he flew over the city, looking down over the braziers illuminating the night sky.