A Confluence on Tython
~ 155 ABY ~
IC: Jedi Master Chalcedony Isosi Kast
Tython - The Northern Temple
Ruination. Calamity. Collapse. ~ 155 ABY ~
IC: Jedi Master Chalcedony Isosi Kast
Tython - The Northern Temple
Thoughts like storm clouds gathered in Master Kast's mind; the end of her cane clacked loudly on the polished stone floor of the hangar as she walked from one end of it to the other, her hip feeling particularly seized today. The hangar itself was a mess, with crates upon crates upon shuttles upon boxes of rations upon, upon, upon... all scattered about, betraying the hurriedness in which things had been piled up and ships had been landed. And the storm-thoughts in Isosi's mind matched the fervor of the room around her, and the torrential rain beating down outside the old Northern Temple the hangar was housed in. Jedi, their robes of homespun brown and white all a blur, bustled about, their sweat palpable on the humid, yet cool, air.
The stress of losing the temple on Coruscant had followed them all the way to Tython.
They had fled from the capital world as it burned down around their ears, the Sith Empire laying waste to the Federation, the Senate, the Jedi Temple, and more. Their Order crumbled beneath their very feet-- and many friends and allies lay dead. Isosi swore the name of the Sith who led the charge on the Temple, an uncharacteristic hiss on her lips. They had lost much, and the pain of it was fresh; they had only arrived on Tython but one week prior.
Reaching the end of the hangar, she stopped near a bank of turbolift doors. She slumped heavily against them, and pulled herself together. In her mind's eye, she parted the storm clouds of her thoughts, allowing the brightness of the light side to act as the sunlight that chased out the dark ruminations. Straightening, she adjusted her poncho and tapped her cane on the floor before pressing the lift button. Some of the Order's forerunners would be gathering in the Council chamber floors above, to take stock of what had survived and decide their next steps forward. Hardly any of the Council had survived, so they were counting on the strongest of their Masters and Knights, and their loyal padawans, to help carry the diminished Order into the future. Into a brighter day.
Isosi boarded the turbolift, and it whisked her to the top floor of the Tythonian Northern Temple, and she stepped out into the wide hallway before the Council chamber, a stunningly beautiful room of polished, cool stone and a soaring glass ceiling. In a wide circle, the traditional Council chairs had been placed with care-- the meticulousness in stark contrast to the happenings in the hangar below. Master Isosi Kast, one of the last remaining Council members, entered the Council with reverence and grace, bowing her head in greeting to those who had gathered.
"Thank you, all," she said as she approached a chair on the far side of the room, "for gathering today. I feel there is much to discuss and we have been hardly able to set aside time in which to talk. Our losses may be great..." She sat and leaned back, placing her cane-- which was now visible as also being the Master's lightsaber-- across her knees. "But our resilience is greater."