Through the Flames {DLA}

[Dutch]

It amazed Dutch how even after so many hours, Erle still looked as he always did. The large, tall man lay in peace, his beard groomed and his clothes cleaned. His eyes were closed, but when they winked and sparkled, they were the same color as Dutch's. His arms were crossed, and in each hand, he held an item. In his left was a holo of Leiliana- Dutch and Al's mother- Erle's beloved wife and best friend would be with him to the end. In his right hand lay the handle of a large sledgehammer with a point on one side of the head- Erle's melee weapon of choice and icon of his might as a true warrior.

He lay in a wooden boat just big enough for him to fit in, herbs of Dantooine littered the bottom of the boat to created a bed for Erle to lay on. Dutch was grateful that Surge and a couple of others had taken the time to clean and seal any wounds Erle had- one could barely tell that he had been through the same hell as Dutch. He knelt forward and lay a hand on Erle's chest, the body long gone cold. Dammit Dad- I thought you weren't gonna quit on me... Now I gotta pick up the slack.

Dutch brought his hand back up to rub at his face and jaw, a sigh escaped his lips before he stood back up. His eyes went to the others around the boat- all carefully chosen for this moment. Dutch knelt back down and grabbed a small peg that jutted from the edge of the boat. With a nod to the others Dutch heaved upward in a lifting motion. Once Erle's boat was set the procession started. At a slow place they moved forwards out of the cavern that led to Homestead.

After a few moments they were out of the cave, the boat carriers led what seemed to be the entire DLA out to the beach outside Homestead. Dutch's jaw was clenched shut the entire time, his eyes trained forward and his pace steady. If there was one good thing about Homestead's new spot, it was that it was near the sea. Sampson tradition involved burial at sea, and Erle was going to get the burial he deserved. It wasn't long before they were at the water's edge.

The boat was lowered to the sand and Dutch sighed softly before he stepped aside and turned to face the group. Here I go...

"Erle, my father, was a great man. But I don't think I need to tell you all that. He was more than a father to just me, I think we all felt the love and pride that washed off of him. As founder of the Dantooine Liberation Army, he started a revolution that will go down in history not only on Dantooine, but in the galaxy as a whole. What he started, I am proud to say I will finish. This is far from over, I promised Dad that I will not stop fighting, not until the breath has left my body for good. I expect to see you all there with me."

After his little speech, Dutch nodded to the group in front of him, and turned to the boat. As per tradition, the children of the deceased would push the boat out to sea. Dutch bent down and began to push- Al's assistance would be all the muscle they needed to push their father to peace. The boat slid silently into the water and began to drift out, the current took the wooden boat out as it started to get farther and farther away. He turned to look at Mo and nodded. The final part of the burial was the most important part- cremating the body. And Mo had been instructed to send a fire arrow into the boat when told.

Dutch sat and watched as the boat slid away, his eyes slowly became redder as he stifled tears, his hand going to Al's shoulder as he gave it a squeeze, just to let Al know that his brother was still there. But as life seemed to be lately, Dutch stood alone- or so he thought. With Erle's burial, the reality of the situation hit. All these people behind him, each and every one- brothers, sisters, friends, comrades- they all now depended on him. As the new leader of the DLA, their safety and health all fell upon him. Dutch gulped and finally lowered his head, no longer able to hold back. His eyes stung and Dutch's face frowned, slow tears now leaked down his face, but thanks to his position in front of the crowd, barely anyone would see his tears.

[Otterling]

It’s strange the things that run through one’s mind when it’s clouded with pain. For Kabira there was a strange fog that floated over her. She walked solemnly behind the procession that bore Erle’s canoe to the shoreline but she couldn’t tear her eyes off the back of Al’s jacket. He had dust on his jacket. A smear of it. It was just below his left shoulder. Kabira’s whole world narrowed to that point and it was all she could see or think about while the walked. She had lost her own father only a few months ago…how many months had it been?...and now she was laying to rest another. She had been unable to bury her father, the remains of the garage had done a roughshod version of that, and with Sith in the area still, she’d been too scared to say behind and try to dig him out by herself. Was he still there? His hand still curled up out of the twisted and blackened metal? Or had wild Krath hounds found him already? Was he little more than carrion now for the scavengers that wandered the lavender grasslands of the Kylah plains?

Kabira felt her face crumple at the horrid thought of it, her eyes stinging and a thump in her throat so large it threatened to choke her. The pressure built until she was forced to let out a small strangled whimper, like a kicked animal, but she swallowed the rest down with an iron will and refused to acknowledge it. Her mind ran straight back to Al’s jacket. It was odd how riveting that dust streak had become. It was easier to bear than looking at Erle’s body. She couldn’t bear that, not without bawling like a child, something she steadfastly refused to do. She watched the spot move up and down with Al’s gait, watched it stop at the water’s edge which her mind barely registered. Her fingers had gone knuckle-white around the single torch she bore, like the other DLA members here, in honor of their fallen leader.

Words were said. Kabira barely heard them but she nodded anyway. It seemed appropriate. She saw the spot on Al’s jacket move again as the boat was pushed into the waters of the bay. Beside her, someone sniffled. Behind her, someone coughed. Her grip was sweaty and she wondered for a moment what it would be like to get in a starship and sail away, never to come back. She wouldn’t, she knew that, but the strange thought occurred to her none the less. She thought of her father and how he used to cook for them. He was horrible at it. Kabira loved it anyway. She thought about how Erle smiled. She could almost hear his voice, the way he’d smile, chuckle, and shake his head when she had come to him growling about the lack of light in the back corner of the garage.

Why are you even back there, girl? You have a whole hangar to work in and you pick the one spot without light. All right, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll get someone working on the light but you have to take the rest of the night off and get some rest. No arguments.

She’d wanted to argue. She really had. Erle’s smile won though. His grin so warm, like her father’s.

Dutch’s hand was covering the dust smear now. He’d brushed his hand over it and wiped it away in an instant. In that moment, Kabira’s focus wiped away. Maybe it was the comparison between that smudge of dust and the lives of men that fought things larger than themselves. Maybe it was the lack of something to hone in on and the rush of pain that swelled in around her without it.

A streak of light arched across the open water, rippling across the surface. Then the boat caught alight. The fire blurred until the whole shoreline was nothing more than a swath of muted dancing colors that made no sense any more. Every now and then it would clear for a moment as the tears in Kabira’s eyes spilled over and rolled soundlessly down her cheeks. There was a bunch of work to do…somewhere. She had…she had things to do. So many things.

Dutch and Al would understand.

Without a word, Kabira turned and walked back toward the building, her pace quickening until it broke into a run, her torch left laying on the sand.

((OOC: Please do not take this as meaning anyone needs to go find Kabira. I lost my own father just this year so this thread is a little hard for me. I wanted to post because she would be there but I don't know that I have it in me to go much father than that. Thanks.))

[Meira]

They'd mourned before. Mo had mourned the loss of both her parents, she'd mourned the loss of fallen friends and allies. She'd mourned the loss of strangers. But this was different. Not more painful than the loss of her parents, but very, very close. Erle had been like a father in many senses, just about everyone present could say the same. And then there was the extra sting of Erle's loss as a leader. Following Erle was like breathing. It came natural to listen and heed his words, not out of fear or bribery or any other artificial means. People followed Erle because they genuinely wanted to. He'd had a way of making everyone feel important, needed. When you lost someone like that... well, you felt lost. At least that's how she felt.

The sun was just below the horizon as the procession exited the cave and moved onto the beach. Though the sky was growing dark, there were still hints of pink and red in the sky, even as the stars began to blink through into sight. The heat from the torch that Mo carried made ripple in the air, as if the sky were a pond she'd just disturbed with a small stone.

Dutch's voice brought her mind and eyes back down to earth, and the weight of their current errand fell back down around her. It took all her strength to remain standing. He didn't say much, but what he did say echoed in Mo's heart, and as he turned to push the boat out to sea, Mo forced her torch into the sand with a sense of purpose. Taking Aditi from her back, Mo quickly knocked the special arrow that had been prepared. Rather than a broadhead, the end of this arrow was wrapped in a cloth that had been soaked in a flammable agent. Further, Mo had etched a line from the song Erle had requested she sing so many times.

No gale can down this ship

Dutch gave a nod and Mo knew that it was time. She lowered the bow so that the end of the arrow caught the flame from the torch. She then first aimed it toward the boat, then raised the bow up into the air, took a moment, closed her eyes, and let the arrow fly.

She kept her eyes closed and focused on the sound of the arrow cutting through the air, the ripple of the flame as it moved. When she heard the faint thud of the arrow striking the boat, she clenched her eyes even tighter. Not until she could tell the flame had taken the tender of the herbs in the bottom of the boat, not until the flames roared did she open her eyes. The boat was now a pillar of flame that converted into smoke as it raised toward the sky.

Like the others on the beach, Mo stood transfixed by the sight. Time flowed by them all as they watched the boat slowly give way to the flames until it was consumed entirely.

[Rugs]

For most of the day, Allistair had been silent. The time had come. His father would be put to rest. How could this happen? Of course, everyone died. That much was as inevitable as the harvests that came every fall. But Erle had been different. To the people of the DLA--or to Allistair, at least--the work he'd done had lifted him, perhaps almost to a position where it seemed he'd become something more than human. It seemed like he was always there for them when they need him, and that he always would be. But now he was gone. It was one of those simple facts of life. Every died. It was unavoidable. Even so, it was a very hard thing to see Erle go.

And while the loss would certainly be felt for a long while to come by the members of the DLA, it was even harder for Allistair. Erle was his father. Dammit, Dad, he thought as he looked out over the waters at the darkening skies, don't leave us. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, and his throat grew tight.You can't. Not now... The young man sighed and looked around him at the other DLA members that had gathered. It seemed that most, if not all, of the DLA had come to this ceremony; a fitting tribute for one such as Erle. They were a good bunch. Allistair's eyes turned to Dutch. Now that Erle was gone, Dutch would be taking the lead of the DLA. He sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. We'll carry on the fight without you, Dad. And we'll win. I swear it.

The ceremony began. Dutch said his farewell, to Erle, and Allistair looked down, trying to hold off the tears that threatened to overflow until everything was done. The signal was given to Mo, and a single arrow, shining in the dimness of the evening sky, shot forward, and met its mark. Erle's boat was consumed in fire, and for a moment there was nothing but silence. But some movement behind him aroused Allistair's attention. He glanced back to see Kabira leaving. For a moment, he thought to go after her to be sure everything was alright, but he could not. She'd more than likely wish to be alone, and he still had a part to do. A part that the time was drawing near for.

A few more moments passed, and Allistair stepped forward. It was time. "It is Dantooine that gives us life," he said loud enough for everyone to hear, hoping he could keep his voice strong throughout what he had to say. "She nutures us, she provides for us, and she shelters us. And sometimes, when she is angry, she takes from us what was hers to give. But through it all, we are her children, and she is ours as much as we are hers." He paused a moment to clear the growing knot in his throat before continuing. "And now she is threatened. Threatened by those who would take by force what is not theirs by right. Dantooine needs us. In the same way we depend on her to survive, now she needs us to fight off the cancer that is moving to conquer her." He looked out to the burning ship once more, and his voice started to quaver, but he kept going. "Father, you took a stand for her. You knew the odds, and you knew the hardships that would come, but still you fought for her." The tears started to form again, and he knew he would not be able to hold them back this time, but continued to push through. "You were a patriot to the bitter end." Finally, the dam broke, and he felt the warm tears sliding down his cheeks. "May she welcome you home." It was spoken quietly, though still loudly enough for most to hear. And now that his part was done, Allistair took a few steps off to the side and watched in silence as his father's body was taken by the flames.