Bankor

Oddyn was wandering across the rubbles in search for more or less legitimate market entrepreneurs who could get him a simple thermal cloak.

[Cashing out 220]

Durasay would consider this part of his duty. Watching as people begin to populate their civilian areas. The rebuilding and recuperating from an occupation. The first push of an offensive, letting people back into their homes. Moving along, armored boots tapping against the ground, he seemed in high spirits. Somehow, being back in a military lifestyle seemed to rejuvenate the Pantoran Senator. He moved down the pathway of makeshift shops and people beginning to restart a semblance of normal life.

The Vizsla was glued to a mural left on a single wall that had once belonged to a gadget shop.

It was a stunning mural, or at least, one that stood out amongst the debris and rubble. Durasay approached the other man, crossing his arms over his chest, regarding it for a moment.

"It's a shame murals run the risk of being torn down, when calamity strikes."

Across the street there is a young soldier handing out food stuffs from the back of a speeder to the locals. The people needed food, and the base had plenty to spare it was a simple mater to “procure” what was needed and hand out to the masses.

No one would miss the stuff. Right?

OOC: Power reduced by 2.

Oddyn stepped away and looked at the other man whom he didn't know. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"It has served its purpose. Things like this don't last forever. They're just a projection of a mindset, values. Those are worth preserving, not shades their cast."

He then pointed to the man distributing food. "A humanitarian." He uttered with some distaste.

"A lot can be learned about beings from those shades. The memories, lessons from a culture." He didn't match the man's narrowed gaze. Instead, he took a moment to appreciate the piece, before looking to the other man.

"Some civilizations have disappeared completely, leaving only their artwork." A slight smile, before his attention was drawn to the soldier pointed out.

"You and I seem to have a different mindset about the situation. It's admirable, helping the downtrodden when one is able to do so."

"And what's the purpose of tracing those? Take pleasure that you last and they don't? Try to play make believe of being inheritor of something?" He shrugged. "If cultures live, they live. If they die, they die."

He paused. "We are indeed of different mindset. What I see is a man spoiling people, teaching them how to unlearn living on their own in their own home. He'll walk away, and they'll stay with their recurring want they no longer think they should meet themselves."

"I disagree. With that aid, they can stop focusing on an immediate need of being fed, and instead, focus on things that require a little more attention. Rebuilding, fortifying. Developing infrastructure."

He shrugged. "And studying those lost cultures can show how prevent the loss of one's own civilization."

"Doesn't make them less prone to hunger once you leave." Odd retorted. "To prevent the loss of you civilisation you need to take care of its survival. There's nothing else you need."

"But if they've had the ability to focus on restoring their own agriculture, than worrying about being hungry, that solves that problem itself." Durasay shrugged.

"It's not enough to survive. A civilization, a culture, must thrive."

"Thriving is a feature of those with supreme ways for survival." Oddyn didn't want to let this point go. "For the time being, the plan seems to be to give them fish rather than rods. From what I heard, some dumb Republic politicians also ordered draining wells where fresh water was available."

"It could be for developing irrigation to restart farmland. Long term goal with short term costs." He shrugged off the comment about politicians. "Have you ever been fishing when you're hungry? Unable to focus that even if you have the skill, your odds of catching go down. It's best to have a need taken care of to build up. It's not a hand out. It's a leg up."

Oddyn shook his head. "It's arrested survival. Getting legs up means you don't learn to jump and reach out even if it bloodies your fingers. Only nice things, safe things, while life is a struggle, a war. Maybe it's fine in the Republic, to encourage this or that haplesness. But then, elected politicians like docile populouses, don't they?"

"I prefer an engaged and vocal constituency. I enjoy having to convince beings." He smirked at that, and then shrugged. "It's only a struggle if one doesn't have the means to overcome it. That, charity, just gives those in need that they can focus on their real challenge."

Besides. No one is ever really docile. If they are docile, they lack the passion life demands.

"Guess the Mando'ade can't be bothered to expect too much from these freeloaders." He shrugged. "This world may be indeed a better fit with the Republic, latching for structure, guidance and trickle-down benefits." He spat to the side with distaste. "You're from where?"

"Pantora. A cold, beautiful moon, deep in the Outer Rim. Orbits Orto Plutonia." He relaxed his posture, seeming almost wistful when talking about it. "Your accent, and being so obviously Mandalorian, I want to guess... Concord Dawn?"

"Taris. I wasn't born a Mando'ad." He paused. "Aliit ori'shya tal'din."

"That it is. Family tends to be something one makes, not just what one is born into." He spoke cooly with the Mandalorian, turning to more fully face him. "I've had Mandalorian friends, worked closely with one. It helps to learn as much as one can about one's friends, and I suppose, now adversaries."

"Mando'ade should always be on their side despite any colours they may be flying as part of their employ." He shrugged. "Here, the Republic is the invading force. It has chosen to make the Kryze their adversaries." He didn't know how to feel about an aruetii speaking his language with fluency.

"Bankor is a Republic World. Deprived of proper defense forces because of being in the outer rim, but still a Republic World none the less. Kyrze drew first blood." Durasay said it without a hint of anger, or proselytizing. It was the cold, clinical precision of someone going over a tactical readout of resources. "This is about taking back what is ours, and giving these people the support they should have had to begin with."

"Well. Lucky for us then. I don't accept anything less than total victory. And there's a reason I have a reporter accompanying me. She'll keep the story moving. Nothing stops the signal." The Pantoran focused on the larger Mandalorian before him, almost as if assessing him as he would any soldier that had been under his command. "That is one constant about the Mandalorians. History does prove their assaults are always at the points the Republic allowed itself to be weak. That weakness has to be eliminated. A cancer upon a government. Maybe this time, will finally be the time they get their collectives heads out of their bantha rears."

Oddyn laughed at that, suddenly and cheerfully."Good! You have spine. Sure the Kryze are going to relish you as their enemy. Nothing kriffs the day more than an unworthy, cowardly opponent."

"Isn't the first gunfight I've been to. Won't be the last either. What's the old saying? It's a good day for someone else to die? When it comes down to it, that's where I stand." He grinned at the burly warrior, and then extended a hand. "Durasay Mixo."