Gash Jiren stared broodingly out the window of his office in the higher reaches of the Great Temple. His gaze fell down onto the the Massassi trees which covered the entire world of Yavin 4 in a perpetual forest. The blue sky above was split by the enormous visage of the gas giant Yavin, as red and angry as the God of War himself. The red planet was a constant reminder of the moon's past- both recent and distand.

The recent past, of course, was the Battle of Yavin 4- in which the Death Star was destroyed by Rebel forces only seconds before it would have blasted the moon into oblivion. In that time, the moon had served as the base for the Rebel Alliance, led by Leia Organa. The Rebel Alliance; a brotherhood of rogues, scoundrels and outcasts which had evolved into the New Republic of today. Into an unmatched military and political force in the galaxy.

The far flung past was that of Sith and Massassi, darkness and hatred, the Dark Side. The Massassi had been a mutilated race of warriors and murderers. When they were found by a cunning Sith Lord, they were warped even further, into dark and evil beings living to serve the sick will of the Dark Side.

Spirits of dead warriors and Sith still haunted the moon, causing havoc whenever it was possible for them to do so.

Which called into question the choice of Gash Jiren to place his Rogue Jedi Praxeum on the planet, and even more so the choice of Luke Skywalker to place the first Jedi Academy on the troubled forest moon, in his days of rebuilding the Jedi Order. Gash had done so in order to inspire students with the planet's Rebel and Jedi past, to spur them on to greatness with the memories of warriors and heroes long past. That, in addition to the Jedi Master's belief that knowledge of- not sheltering from, as some Jedi suggested- darkness was the best tool for combatting it. Better that one of his students be tempted by the Dark Side while they were still Padawans, and under his watchful eye, then as fully-trained Jedi Knights experimenting with darkness outside of his supervision.

Luke Skywalker, on the other hand, was simply a fool.

Not mentioning the other Jedi Master's staunch opposition of Gash's ideals at the recent Jedi Council meeting, Luke's placing of the Jedi Academy on Yavin 4 without warning or foreknowledge reinforced Gash's opinion of him as a Jedi with nothing but luck on his side, a man who acted without thought or intelligence.

But despite the planet's usefulness as a training center for young Jedi, Gash had already decided it was completely useless as the capital of a faction, nation or empire. And certainly, it already appeared that the Rogue Jedi Order was seeking to become just that. The new faction's prompt acquisition of Gash's homeworld, Asthentia, made that apparent.

In truth, Gash had not intended they take the planet, nor had he known there was any chance of that happening when he set off to defend the planet from the pirate assault. But that eve, a vision had come to the Jedi Master... a vision of the Rogue Jedi Order as just that, an order; a united force ready to confront and deflect the evil to come in the times to come.

So Gash now searched his datafiles for a suitable world to place the capital of this new Order. A few hundred words passed across his screen... then...

Ossus.

The former capital of the Jedi Order itself in the days of the Old Republic. Yes, Gash had heard of the magnificient city world, now ruined by decades of fighting. All that was left was ruins, rubble, wreckage... scattered tribes, factional fighting. A few descendants of Jedi.

Perfect. A way to not only improve the way of life on a planet, and further the cause of the Rogue Jedi Order....

Gash tapped the communications console on his desk, smiling and nodding briefly to the image of D31, his not very droid-like droid aide, which promptly appeared.

"DeeThree... mobilize the Hermes and all of our fighters. I'll be down in an hour."

'Right. Where are we off to this time?'

"Ossus."

'The Ruined World? Why the hell-'

"You'll see, you'll see."

'Whatever, Jiren. You better have a plan.'

In fact, Gash realized he stood and walked to the door of his office, he didn't. But a little recon on the ravaged capital of the Jedi Order sounded a good place to start.

[b]The Hermes seemed to only loom slowly through the endless black ink of space, even though Gash knew from experience it was moving extremely fast. He double clicked his comlink, signalling for the ship to stay in it's current orbit. The Jedi Master's small CloakShape fighter leapt forward at full speed as Gash juked the throttle, the planet Ossus growing in the distance.

He'd heard of scattered tribes, warring with one another and highly religious- and powerful in the Force- and had decided that a one hundred and fifty meter ship landing in one of the shattered cities might be taken badly by the natives. That would probably result in some sort of primitive riot, and that wouldn't be good....

The fighter craft jumped lightly, jerking the stick in Gash's hands, as it entered the atmosphere. The Jedi Master eased the ship forward, plunging deep into the atmosphere like a lightsaber into nerf milk butter. The sleek ship made an audible shriek as it tore oxygen molecules from one another. Quickly enough, the CloakShape was fully within the planet's gravity, and it's downward spiral towards Ossus accelerated.

Around him, Gash saw only destruction. Ruins. Huge buildings, gigantic and mighty in their day, reduced to a few pillars standing strong amongst a lower atmosphere rife with dust, ash, and carbon. Even with the distraction of flight, Gash could sense the emotions which haunted the former capital of the Jedi Order. Terror, agony, anguish, sadness... a horrifying blend of negative emotions.

In seconds, the fighter reached the ground, Gash setting it down gently. With the press of a button, the cockpit filled with a hissing sound, as the cabin was depressurized. Gash leapt out of the crash without speaking a word, staring around, still silent, at the destruction. It was like a ghost city. Beneath his feet was duracrete, around him were the remnants of buildings, huge walls of durasteel standing alone, the rest of the structures ionized or left in a crumbling heep all around. It was the very picture of a city after an apocalypse.

Children told tales of 'ghosts' to one another, in an effort to frighten friends. While spirits of those strong in the Force lingered about the material plane of the galaxy, Gash knew the truth of what the origin of the ghost theory was. He had experienced it himself. When a person experiences great emotion, he affects the Force energy around him, and leaves an imprint on it. Unfortunately, the greatest emotion most people feel is a profound sadness or hatred, and that happens surrounding death. One's own death, or the death of another. When the emotion is strong enough, it would leave an imprint on the Force energy of the surrounding area so powerful, it would manifest itself in visions or specters. Often people did not die in their own homes, but in a hospital- however, when their family and friends returned to their room, they would feel sadness for that person great enough to create a 'ghost' of that person, residing there. It most often occured in abandoned areas, where the Force energy would be left dormant.

And there was no better example of that than Ossus. All around him, Gash could feel suffering. Pain. Loss. He gritted his teeth, blocking his mind against the specters of the past. Even so, he could see things. A child shot down. A mother crying. A father returning home to his family, only to find them all slaughtered, or worse, his home in ruins. Millions dying in the destruction of one building.

It was horrible.

And Gash could scarcely stand it. He dropped to his knees, and sobbed as a child would.

Tears dry, emotion fades, weakness hardens into strength. But Gash's first walk on Ossus left a mark on him- not necessarily a dark one, but one of growth- that could never be erased. Not by time, violence, or even old age. He could forget the instance, but it's mark would remain always upon him, like an old Corellian Whiskey on a rough Twi-Lek fabric. You could wash it, scrape it, do whatever you wanted to it, but the outline of that stain would remain there.

As the Jedi Master continued down the streets and roads of the once-urban metropolis that had marked the of the Jedi Order, he tried to bear in mind the danger of his location. An Order spanning the galaxy, protecting it. Stewards of innumerable peoples spanning the length and width of the millions of stars they called home. Now, it had been humbled by the oppressive brutality of the empire, crushed into a scrap heap. So the danger continued to slip his mind, until it leapth up and hit him in the head.

Quite literally.

Some sort of stone and rope throwing weapon struck Gash directly in the back of the skull smarting painfully and knocking him to the ground with a crack. He rolled instinctively, coming up with lightsaber drawn. Igniting the Jedi weapon, Gash looked around at his grey surroundings. Nothing but the ruins of buildings and cracked duracrete of streets....

Until a second one slashed out through the air to strike Jiren. It was fast moving, obviously thrown with great skill, but still nothing in comparison to blaster bolts Gash had deflected. He sliced it twice with his blue lightsaber, dropping it to the ground in pieces. With hushed silence, several men slid from behind the cracked, ruined walls, about ten meters away. They stared, dumbfounded, at Gash, for a second, before one of them spoke.

'Take'on lus terke den chall?'

Gash stared at them. He'd had no preparation for this. Stupidly, he'd assumed the natives would speak Basic. He realized only too late how fool he'd been to believe that. Instead of speaking his language to them slowly, as some did when speaking to those of another race, he simply nodded slowly and pointed at a rock. To the sound of a gasp or two, it floated into the air, and moved over until it was two centimeters from Gash.

Then he slashed his saber through it, allowing the two pieces to drop slowly to the ground. Several of the tribesmen jumped.

They were dressed in odd garments. Not scantily clad, like some being's vision of natives, but in ragged brown cloths. The robes almost reminded Gash...

Of those of a Jedi.

As a show of friendship, Gash flicked his lightsaber's blue blade off, dropping it onto the ground and kicking it over to them. When the weapon stopped rolling, one of the men of the group strode over and picked it up, igniting it. Then, he did something that shocked Gash.

He twisted it knowingly, and activated the dual-phase mechanism. Waving it once, the native nodded and flicked it off.

'Rlinea, de charten tion fival.'

Gash could only stare at the native as he turned, and began to walk away. Then, the man turned again, and motioned for Gash to follow.

The Jedi Master did, if only to satisfy curiosity.

Gash allowed himself to be lead onward by the rag tag group of natives. They didn't seem as primitive as some reports had described; indeed, they seemed every bit as intelligent as Gash, though foreign. There were about five of them, four men, one woman. Their robes, though different than Gash's traditional Asthentian garb, were exceptionall Jedi like- too much so for it to be a coincidence.

The tribespeople lead Gash through the ruined streets, over several buildings, and eventually underground in what Gash assumed had once been a tunnel trainway. Now, it was ruined and ravaged, duracrete cracking and transparisteel broken and fallen to the ground. They walked for what seemed to be two or more kilometers, occasionally stepping over what seemed to be destroyed pillars or the metal remnants of trains. The Empire had left nothing untouched.

'Tenfcha lyrian to ellit ter.'

They had reached what seemed to be another station, a stop along the path of a train that had not moved for at least a hundred years. Gash stared at the leader, the one who had picked up his lightsaber and was now addressing the Jedi Master. He stared, curious, until the man held out his lightsaber and nodded, by way of telling him to take it. Gash took his weapon, nodding graciously. Without another word spoken, they walked up the set of steps- which had once moved in an escalating fashion, but now stood still- out into bright sunlight which had been absent under the dust-cloud that had covered the city. It seemed there had once been sidewalk here, too, from the occasional cracked remains of duracrete, but it had been mostly swept away to plant trees. Between the towering giants of trees, were small huts made of what appeared to be a strong wood, built over a soft sheet of grass.

"Wow."

From what Gash had heard, Ossus had once been entirely urban, much like Coruscant- but here, the place seemed so natural. In the distance, torn wrecks of buildings still loomed, but they seemed far-off and separate from this sanctuary. The leader of the native group once again looked back and nodded, seemingly understanding Gash's expression of disbelief. They emerged fully from the stairwell, walking over to the largest of the huts.

'El tron tecyilleth ren uil.'

The other four had left Gash and the leader. The man was looking ponderously at Gash, and noting that he recieved no response but for the Jedi's equally oblivious look, the man pointed to himself.

'Telrec.'

Gash nodded, pointing to himself in return.

"Gash."

The native leader smiled.

'Ri, Gash.'

"Greetings, Telrec."

Having come to a mutual understanding, Telrec opened the door to the hut before which they stood. He motioned Gash inside, and once again, the Jedi Master's eyes widened at what sat on the table inside.

A Holocron.

A Jedi Holocron.

Obviously, the Jedi like robes the natives wore were not a coincidence- these people were probably direct decendants of Jedi, and more than likely had learned their ways from the Holocron. Life on the planet had been destroyed more than 4000 years previous, in the great Sith War. Exar Kun had been a prime participant in that war, and had killed thousands, millions of people on Ossus. The Jedi, Ulec Quel-Droma had joined with Kun, turned to the darkside in that time of terrible tribulation for the Jedi capital.

It struck Gash as odd, that. Exar Kun had annihilated Ossus; and the spirit of that terrible Sith Lord now resided forever on the moon of Yavin 4. He had journeyed to dozens of worlds, leaving destruction in his wake; on Yavin, he had enslaved the Massassi and forced them to construct the dark temples that marked the forest world. And had not Gash felt a push, a tug perhaps, drawing him to the Ruined World of Ossus? From the resting place of Exar Kun to one of his greatest triumphs?

The Jedi Master's blood ran cold. Was he the pawn of some long-past Sith Lord? The victim of another one of his vicious plots, like the one that had corrupted the power hungry Kyp Durron and resulted in that disaster involving the Sun Crusher? Exar Kun and he had communicated before, on Ziost... he had earned the Sith Lord's respect, and the Lord had earned Gash's. But... Gash shook his head. Even if Exar Kun hoped to influence him, he had long since been past the point anyone could use him as a pawn; He was Gash Jiren, once an infamous Sith, the next Dark Lord of Ziost, now a Jedi Master! No one could touch him.

But he wiped that thought from his mind. That was arrogance; arrogance breeds contempt, which breeds cruelty, which breeds aggression and hatred, and anger. The Path to the Dark Side. Exar Kun could try to make Gash his pawn. Gash would simply not let him. There was no Try.

Ignoring that inner conflict for now, Gash stepped forward to the Holocron. It was beautiful, an exquisitely crafted cube of gold and white. From the crystal on the top side, a crisp hologran was projected, the image of a Jedi. The Jedi who spoke for the knowledge of the Holocron was known as the gatekeeper; a complete copy of a real Jedi's neural network built from machine. It would measure the rank of the user, and give only information suitable to that level, to prevent dangerous tampering. A Holocron was a most sacred gift.

This Gatekeeper was a tall, thin-limbed figure. After a moment of searching his memory, Gash identified it as a Caamasi: a now almost extinct race of die-hard pacifists, who were almost eliminated when their homeworld of Caamas was destroyed by the Empire.

'Terrsh nen toi, jel ke?'

Gash looked puzzled.

"Excuse me?"

The gatekeeper nodded briefly, smiling.

'Ah, my apologies. I am so used to speaking Orilian, I simply assumed you, too, would know the language. I am Teros Tre'Na.'

"A Jedi Master."

'Yes, indeed. As, I sense, you are, as well.'

"You could say so. You would not approve of the sort of Jedi Master I am, though. Still, I doubt you would approve of what the Jedi Order has been relegated to, either. I am Gash Jiren."

'I know little of this... I have spent the last five thousand years here, among the Jedi, and now the Oril, on Ossus.'

"Oril... the tribe?"

'Yes.'

Gash nodded silently. He would have to learn the Orilian language, so he might converse with the people. Teros looked up at Gash and, feeling uncomfortable about towering over the hologram, Gash sat down. Telrec, at the door, nodded and swept out.

'I have not seen another Jedi in such a long time. I would... please, tell me of what the Jedi have become.'

Gash sighed. "The Jedi Order was destroyed, and the Jedi killed by a terrible group called the Empire. A Sith Lord, Palpatine, and his apprentice, Darth Vader, hunted down and killed every last light-side Force user. Even children. Only those who went into hiding, like Luke Skywalker and Corran Horn, or did not know of their heritage, like me, survived the Jedi Purge.

"I mentioned Luke Skywalker. He was the son of Darth Vader. Before Vader turned to evil, and the Dark Side, he was Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi Apprentice of great promise. Luke defeated the Emperor, and turned his father back to the Light. Vade died promptly after."

'And the Jedi, now?'

"Have become a group calling themselves the Jedi Council. To be quite honest, I disapprove of them; they are not protectors, not anymore. They train Jedi, yes, but... they do not protect. I tried to convince them of the error of those ways, but I am distrusted by them."

'Why?'

"I... was a Sith. The nephew of the greatest Sith Lord in the galaxy. I turned to the Light a few years ago."

'But... once you start down the dark path-'

"-Forever will it dominate your destiny. Yoda was misunderstood. The Dark Side will, yes, forever dominate my destiny; I can never fully leave my dark past behind. But I am dedicated to the light side, and that will never change."

'And what of you? You say you disapprove of the Jedi Council...'

"I have left it. I now govern the Rogue Jedi Order. I know the name sounds blasphemous, but our intentions and methods are pure. I intend to rebuild the Jedi Order of old, in all it's glory and might. I intend to make Jedi protectors, as they were before."

'I see.'

Teros stared at Gash for a long while. To Gash, it seemed even longer, though he held the gaze. Teros seemed to be evaluating Gash for something, weighing the pros and cons of the Jedi Master and his plans.

'What do you seek here, Gash Jiren?'

"I seek to rebuild Ossus. Into the capital, the shining pillar of light in the galaxy that it was four thousand years ago. I have the resources, and the backing of the New Republic-"

'New Republic?'

"Yes, the Empire destroyed the Galactic Republic and replaced it with an oppessive regime. The Rebel Alliance destroyed the Empire and it's superweapons, and took over as the NR."

'Ah.'

"As I was saying... I will rebuild Ossus. I must. It will be the capital of a New Jedi Order."

'Then first, you must learn to speak Orilian. Learn.'

And Teros Tre'Na began teaching Gash the language of the tribes of Ossus.

Outside the wooden hut, several Oril congregated, including Telrec. Telrec was the leader of the Oril tribe, a great warrior, exceptional healer, and wise fellow. Around him gathered twenty or so Oril, all in the Tehc-Ti robes that their tribe wore.

[Telrec, the Foreigner has spent much time in the Great Tent. What is he up to?] Asked Yillin, a warrior and rival of Telrec. Though war was against the ways of their ancestors, they knew that even the great Jedi of the past engaged in wore when necessary, and life on Ossus was difficult and brutal. Warriors were a necessary evil.

[Quiet, Yillin. That Foreigner is a Jedi.]

The people around the two gasped, several moving out of the way of the two, sensing the aggresion in their words. Yillin stared down Telrec.

[How can you be so sure, Cousin? He wears the robes of a Jedi, but that does not make him one.]

Telrec sneered. [You are blinded by self love and jealousy, Yillin. The Jedi is not only a Jedi; he is the Destined, come back to us after all this time.]

Those words drew stares from every last one of the gathered Oril. As legend went, the Destined was a great warrior, a loyal friend of the Jedi who would fight and die for his beliefs. In ancient times, several years after Ossus' destruction, the Destined was first born; he lead the tribes, and taught them to survive on the Ruined World. When the Destined died, he was prophecized to return to them again, to rebuild Ossus to it's former glory. After four thousand years, he had almost been forgotten; a distant promise of a man who had died in a far flung past.

[How can you know that!?]

[I know. I can feel it.]

Yillin took a step back, eyes narrowing at his cousin.

[You speak of the divine, Cousin. The Force-]

[Is not divine. The Force is of this world; it is of life, made of life, created by life. I have seen this, all of it. Gash will lead our people.]

[Gash? You know his name? You are a fool, Cousin. The Destined will never come. That prophecy is a lie!]

Telrec shook his head. It sounded incredible, even obscene, but he knew it was true. All Oril had some control of the Force, and Telrec had no more than any other normal man, but had meditated for weeks at a time in the months preceeding Gash's arrival. It took most Oril their entire lives to recieve a vision, and it was the most sacred event in an Oril's life- and so, to speak of having one as young as Telrec.

[I have had a Vision.] Telrec added.

[No. You could not have, cousin. You lie to us!]

[We shall see, cousin.] Telrec nodded, smiling. [We shall see.]

Gash proved a good student. In three days, he had a conversational mastery of the Orilian tounge. Throughout the three days, Telrec brought him rudimentary drink and food, as the Jedi sat day after day in front of the Holocron. From morning until evening, Teros Tre'Na taught Gash the subtle nuances of the Orilian language. From the beginning of the Ossan eve until late at night, Teros and Gash discussed the state of the Jedi, philosophy, anything which came to mind. Both the machine and Gash benefitted from the three days spent together; Teros grew in knowledge, Gash in wisdom.

On the end of the third day, when Telrec knocked on the door to deliver Gash his Orint Bread and water, Gash opened it and greeted the Oril leader in his own tounge, drawing a startled responce from him.

[[Hello, Telrec.]]

[Gash... you have learned the tounge of the Oril.]

[[Yes.]]

The two looked at each other for a moment, as if each was sizing the other one. Then Telrec smiled, nodding confidently.

[You are the Destined.]

[[The what!?]]

[The Destined... among our people, he was a great guardian, a leader and shepard shortly after the destruction of our world by Exar Kun. He was prophecised to come again... I believe, he has.]

Gash raised an eyebrow warily. [[I've been called a lot of things, Telrec. But never a saviour come back. I'm only here to rebuild Ossus.]]

[Yes! Yes, I know! You are the Destined. Only you can return our world to it's glory. Come with me, greet our people.]

Gash allowed himself to be led along again, wondering how he had made his way through such a whirlwind scenario. From sitting in his office, to a scouting mission on Ossus. A scouting mission which became a mission to rebuild an entire world, and restore a people. Insanity. But Telrec led Gash to what seemed to be the center of the village, taking out what seemed to be a small shell and blowing into it. It shot out a loud sound, similar to the whine of a krayyt dragon, and out of the various wooden huts, came the robed people of the Oril tribe.

[Come, gather! Our saviour has come; the Destined has arrived!]

Gash could feel himself turning beet red, as he realized how ridiculous it all sounded. Him, a saviour, a long prophecised hero returning at last to his people? Impossible. Yet, the people, stared at him with reverence.

[[I... a...]] Gash shook his head. [[Look, I'm not here to be a savior. I'm not a god, or a deity; I just have a proposition for you.]]

And so, Gash spun the tale of the Rogue Jedi Order. From his own defection from The Ziost Empire, to the trial which had determined his fate as a Jedi. From the creation of his son, Xireon, to the most recent meeting of the Jedi Council in which he had become, in effect, a Rogue Jedi. Finally leading up to his desire for peace, and protection in the galaxy.

Within a week, a call had gone out. Somehow, Gash had inspired the Oril; inspiring them to follow him, to help him rebuild Ossus. So the call went to the other tribes; the Ptroe, the Yinra, the Gal, hundreds of others. Thousands gathered in what became known as The Grove, that grassy spot slapped right in the center of a former city. Each day, hundreds more would arrive, caravans of tribesmen, all wearing different versions of a Jedi robe. Gash and the Oril stayed in the great hut.

Telrec and Gash sat quietly, staring out a window of the hut made of salvaged transparisteel. Gash smiled at the man who had become his friend.

[[How will I speak to them?]]

[Most will understand Oril. It is a widely spoken dialect, and not only by the Oril themselves. What do you have planned?]

Gash's grin widened.

[[You'll see.]]

Several more days passed, and more tribes poured in. The numbers in The Grove began to near fifty thousand. On clear-skied days, Gash would teach the ways of the Jedi to those who would listen. It helped to rally them to his cause, and watching him pile rocks without touching them never ceased to please. Skeptics abounded, but most were silenced by his Jedi abilities. Those who did not, left The Grove. Most stayed.

Two weeks after the call went out, the elders of each clan met together in the Great Hut, with Gash at the head of the proceedings.

[[Good people of Ossus, I ask your assisstance. With the combined resources of youselves, and of the New Republic, we can rebuild the Ruined World to it's former glory; a capital of the Jedi Order once more.]]

One of the gathered tribe elders spoke, a particularly burly looking man. [You say you are an emmisary from this Rogue Jedi Order! How are we to believe you!? So you are a Jedi- it would not be the first time a Jedi posed as a great leader.]

[[I am asking you to do something that will benefit both of us. Why do you question my motives, when I ask for nothing but your friendship and approval?]]

[Because Jedi can decieve! Force users ruined this planet.]

[[Force users built this planet, as well. Ossus was a Jedi Capital; if you will only join me, it will be so again.]]

The meeting continued several hours, with accusations of treason, stupidity, and traitorous nature flying thick and fast. Gash fended off most of the questions effectively, and those he did not, were taken down by Telrec. In time, he had rallied about four fifths of the Ossan tribes to his side. Most were human, some not.

In the end, those who agreed to help, stayed, those who did not, left in peace, with an assurance from Gash their land would not be disturbed. Telrec and Gash celebrated the night the meetings ended.

[It is a glorious day, Gash.]

[[It is indeed, Telrec... I don't believe it, but it's true, isn't it? The Ossan's will really help. It's wonderful.]]

[Yes. And the Oril would like to present you with a gift.]

[[What is that?]]

[This grove. For your new capital building.]

[[No, no, Telrec, I could never accept-]]

[We insist.]

In the end, construction began on the capital building several days later. That day, the first of the RJO and private transports landed on Ossus, bringing with them workers and immigrants.


Ossus
Those seeking a new home are cordially invited by the Rogue
Jedi Order to come to Ossus. Known as the Ruined World, it
has been resettled through a pact made by Gash Jiren with
the tribes of the planet. Skilled workers and specialists are
needed to foster a new economy. The atmosphere is being
remodled, and the cities rebuilt. Come to Ossus today!