#narkina guards

[andorshitdaily]

new shitposts because i'm bored and nothing matters

[uwingdispatch]

Y’alllll we are two months from Andor season 2 and I can’t wait to make more unhinged merch! Here is everything I could fit in a Tumblr post that I made based on season 1 (with some Rogue One overlap).

Tell me what type of goodies you’d like to see, what characters and locations you need merch of, what you like that I’ve made that you want more of! Shop is here. And don’t forget you can use code TUMBLR15 at checkout for 15% off most accessories

Shop is here. I may do a second post with just apparel items, because none of those fit in this post! Love y'all so much and I can't wait to watch season 2 with this community! <3

[surgeonquadpaw]

Can't be mad at the Plot Device Child plot device in the Plot Device Child franchise huh....

I guess it's hard to be mad at a Destined by the Force plotline in the Destined by the Force story

[fallenrocket]

My god, Cassian is just so young in season 1 of Andor. On this last rewatch, it kept jumping out at me everywhere. Especially at the start of the show, which makes sense--he goes through a pretty intense education over the course of the season and transforms before our eyes. But there's just so much in Cassian that comes from being young, traumatized, and desperate.

We see it in his moments of unabashed fear, like when he's stopped by the two corpos in the pilot, the first time he sees the TIE fighter fly past on Aldhani, or as the prison transport takes off for Narkina 5. Even when he tries to hide it, we can see it in his eyes, the parts of him that are still that scared kid from Kenari.

We see it in the chip he has on his shoulder, like the attitude he cops with Luthen in their first meeting: "I don't know you." He's not just guarded and distrustful, he kind of actively resents this guy trying to get too familiar with him. When he's scared, uncertain, or guilty, he tends to push others away, a product of having to fight most of his life and of losing many of the things and people he's cared about. I also think of him coldly telling Bix, "You won't have to worry about me anymore," at the end of their argument in "Announcement."

And yet, by the same token, he can also be surprisingly open and earnest in his affections. For me, this is most apparent in his scenes with Maarva in "Announcement." There, we see his naive optimism that the money he got from Aldhani can solve all their problems. He's so buoyant and hopeful and loving as he suggests running away, saying, "What do we need but the three of us?" Later in the episode, we see that same naivety when he insists, "We'll find a place they haven't ruined yet." But it crops up in other places too. On Aldhani, he chooses Clem's name as his pseudonym, even though he already realizes Luthen has a lot of intel on him and will probably recognize it--in that moment, his distrust of Luthen is outweighed by his desire to go into this dangerous mission carrying a small piece of his dad with him. Then there's that beautiful hug with Brasso in "Rix Road," especially those few extra beats past when you'd expect them to part. When he hugs Melshi in the previous episode, Cassian is rushed, on the brink of falling apart and not wanting Melshi to see. But with Brasso, Cassian needs that touch for a few extra seconds, and he's not afraid to hold on a little longer.

Most of Cassian's dumbest mistakes in the season are very youthful ones. He's an incredibly smart and observant guy, so he's not dumb very often, but when he is, it tends to come back to being young, traumatized, and desperate. We see this especially in the opening Ferrix arc: insisting on bringing an unsecured comm to his meeting with Luthen (oh my god, the way he bickers with B2EMO about them beforehand!) and trying to go back for the starpath unit when the shit hits the fan, even after Luthen repeatedly tells him to leave it. With the starpath unit, part of it is naivety--"What if it's just one guy left?"--and part of it is growing up poor and scrappy. This box represents more money than he's ever had at any one time, and he simply can't process the idea that his buyer would just leave it behind.

Finally, every now and then, Cassian has this subtle but impeccable "little shit" energy. We definitely see it when he messes with Timm in the pilot, deliberately goading him instead of trying to defuse the situation when he sees that Timm is jealous. It's a dumb, petty moment of cheap satisfaction that winds up with some intense blowback when Timm IDs him to Pre-Mor. And I love Cassian's refusal to give up on Kino on Narkina 5, always believing he can be brought into the fold no matter how many times Kino tells him to forget about it. It's a great reflection of how Cassian rejects the Empire's attempts to divide the inmates by pitting them against each other, but part of why he's able to keep at it is his annoying-kid tenacity. I love the scene where Kino brushes him off by saying how many shifts he has left and Cassian immediately responds with, "So...tell me what you know before you go."

It's simply wild to compare the Cassian we see in "Kassa" to the one in "Rix Road." He goes through so much in twelve episodes and really comes into his own, and it's fantastic to see some of the qualities he displays in Rogue One starting to peek through. He's already come so far in his character growth--I cannot wait to see how season 2 gets us from "Rix Road" to Rogue One!

Oh yeah, and Diego Luna is simply stunning. You can really feel how he traced Cassian's life backwards to this point, see how different the Cassian of "Kassa" is from the Cassian of Rogue One and yet still fully believe that this is the same character. All the little hints he drops, all the tiny moments where you can see Rogue One Cassian starting to gestate. It's such beautiful, brilliant work!

[elwenyere]

Something that's important to me about the relationship between Melshi and Kino is that they're both exercising the tiny amount of free will left to them to try to help others in a system that maximally constrains their ability to care for each other.

For the Melshi we first see in Narkina, a big part of staying free happens in the mind - in learning and communicating the truth, in refusing to take comfort in illusions and instead naming the dehumanizing operations of the system. By offering to Keef/Cassian the narrative of power he's developed ("never look at the numbers"), he's trying to give Cassian a way to hold onto the relative autonomy of clear, uncompromising thinking: they can keep us here as long as they want, but we don't have to believe their lies. By the time we meet him, Melshi already seems very familiar with Kino's reaction to his brand of shop talk (so familiar that I suspect Kino is not the first authority figure who's found Melshi profoundly irritating), and when Kino throws him against the wall, Melshi doesn't resist or fight back, but he does look Kino in the eye. He knows why Kino needs to do this, and as his little rueful shrug to Cassian suggests later, he's easier on Kino's need for self-delusion and displaced frustration than he is on the guards' willful misrepresentations and casual cruelty.

For Kino, moving people toward freedom is a question of organization, discipline, and management. He runs a tight ship because he's trying to get his guys the best deal he can, and he encourages them all to throw their weight into the work they're assigned because he thinks that's the best chance to get his floor through their sentences as efficiently as possible. That goal makes Melshi into a troublemaker (as his remarks threaten to undercut people's faith that good behavior matters), and Kino seems to be in the habit of throwing Melshi around to manage the expression of discontent and muttering on the floor. But of course the bigger threat Melshi poses is to Kino's faith in the system itself, and thus his belief that by maintaining order he's protecting his men - from more frying or from railing it in despair (thus his much more out-of-control response to Melshi's "they set them all free" after a whole floor's been killed for no discernible reason). Kino wants to get out himself, yes, but he also wants to get his guys out, and that's why it's Ulaf's death and the doctor's confession that provides the final push in his radicalization: he has to admit that he's been enforcing the rules of a bad-faith system, and the way he's been trying to get his men home was never going to work.

This is very compelling to me because the progression of the Narkina arc reveals that the structure of antagonism in which we first find Melshi and Kino (with Melshi needing to speak out to feel internally free and Kino needing to keep his men aligned around a shared purpose to feel that he's fulfilling his external responsibilities) is in crucial ways environmental: it's a manifestation of the forced competition and hierarchy imposed by the distribution of power in the prison. Once Kino accepts that he needs a new set of tactics to liberate the floor, and once Melshi steps up to fight for what he likely on some level still thinks is a dream, any lingering animus is quickly set aside for cooperation. Melshi is the one to throw Kino a wrench, and Kino is the one to hand Melshi a blaster. Their different methods and theories of power put them in conflict while they were still operating within a system that tried to foreclose any development of solidarity; but they share an impulse toward freedom and care for others, and Andor suggests that's finally stronger than their personal differences.

I do think if they'd met outside of Narkina, Kino would still find Melshi annoying though.

[sem24]

He’s not running. He’s not armed. He’s not resisting. He’s just walking through a sunlit plaza, surrounded by strangers, near a shop he has no interest in. And then, without warning, he is stopped. Questioned. Accused. There’s a disturbance nearby, they say. He looks suspicious. He’s sweating. Why would he be sweating unless he’s guilty of something? The questions become statements. The statements become charges. And the charges are meaningless—vague phrases muttered by a bored official who barely looks up from her typewriter. He’s sentenced before he even understands what’s happening. A number is handed down. He protests. “Take it up with the Emperor,” says the official, already calling the next case. (Andor, Season 1, Episode 7)

This is the trial of Cassian Andor, in Season One, Episode Seven of Star Wars: Andor.

The prison Cassian is sent to is efficient, sterile, and almost eerily quiet. The walls are spotless white. The prisoners wear identical uniforms. There are no bars or shouting guards. Control is built into the architecture, with electrified floors omnipresent and always ready to punish.

Andor ties power not just to violence but to sound. To be heard is to have power. In Narkina 5, the Empire completely strips prisoners of that. Orders come down through speakers; pain comes up from the floor. The guards remain unseen, the prisoners unheard.

The work itself is grueling but orderly. Inmates spend their days assembling mechanical components without knowing what they’re for. Kino Loy, the floor manager, enforces the system. He’s not cruel, but he’s committed to survival. When someone dies, Kino replaces them. When their team falls behind, he pushes harder. The message is clear: stay “on program,” follow the rules, and wait out your time for release. (Andor, Season 1, Episode 8)

Everything changes when they learn that released prisoners are merely cycled back into the system, and an entire floor is executed to maintain secrecy. Obedience doesn’t earn freedom; it keeps the machine running. Cassian begs Kino to help him plan an escape. But Kino resists; he doesn’t want to be overheard plotting and punished. He believes in the system, even now.

“They’re so proud of themselves,” Cassian says about stealing from the Empire. “They don’t even care. They’re so fat and satisfied, they can’t imagine it.” (Andor, Season 1, Episode 3) The Empire isn’t stopping people from resisting; it’s banking on the idea that they won’t realize they can. Its strength isn’t fear, it’s complacency. It doesn’t need loyalty. It just needs passivity. They do not even have to monitor the prisoners. “Nobody’s listening,” Cassian screams. (Andor, Season 1, Episode 9)

As Arendt warned, totalitarian regimes don’t just control people’s actions; they limit what people think is possible. The genius of Narkina 5 is that prisoners believe escape is impossible, so they never even try. On a floor with hundreds of prisoners, how many guards are there? Cassian asks. “Never more than twelve.” (Andor, Season 1, Episode 9)

Narkina 5 is the Empire in miniature, a system that hides its brutality behind procedure and relies on silence and fragmentation to keep people from realizing their own power. As Karis Nemik writes in his manifesto: “The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear.” (Andor, Season 1, Episode 12)

That’s why it matters so much when Kino finally takes the mic. His voice, trembling, uncertain, rings out through the same intercom that once controlled them. “One way out!” becomes a chant. A signal. A rupture. (Andor, Season 1, Episode 10)

“Someone must have been telling lies about Josef K.,” begins The Trial. (Kafka 1) Words have power. One lie is all it takes to unravel K.’s entire life. But K. has sharp words of his own. He wields language like a master fencer, parrying and jabbing with cold irony and careful precision, verbally sparring with every faceless representative of the court.

What is the difference between Cassian Andor and Josef K., who both face insurmountable odds? For all his cleverness, for all his resistance, K. is alone in the face of unyielding bureaucracy. He was always going to lose. Cassian, unlike K., is not alone, and that makes all the difference.

If Josef K. is an example of one person being crushed beneath the heel of an uncaring system, then Maarva Andor is that rare spark that sets the fire, one that burns down Nemik’s siege, and she does so impressively, from beyond the grave.

Her funeral is announced by the steady, swelling rhythm of the Ferrix band: horns, drums, the slow cadence of grief turned defiance. Then the projection flickers to life, and her voice fills the square. She does not plead. She does not rage. She invites: “The Empire is a disease that thrives in darkness. It is never more alive than when we sleep.” (Andor, Season 1, Episode 12)

The music behind her surges, no longer mournful but militant. On Ferrix, resistance is built on noise, or more accurately, on the refusal to be quiet. Even the instruments are significant. The anvil of Ferrix rings out like a signal flare. In a world ruled by silence, every note is a risk. Maarva’s voice cuts through the complacency on which the Empire depends. And when she says, “Fight the Empire,” when the crowd echoes her words, it becomes more than a cry. It becomes clear that no one will be left to be crushed alone. (Andor, Season 1, Episode 12)

This has been Part 2 of: A Great Organization: Repression and Propaganda in Andor

part 1 < > Part 3

Masterlist of all parts

[kweenhera]

Mon and Perrin reunion

[Excerpt from fanfic Rebellions Eat Their Own]

Coruscant. New Republic Interim Capital. 5 ABY

Mon stepped into the elevator, flanked by her senatorial guards. Their polished sapphire armor reflected the dim lighting, casting fractured glimmers across the walls. 

When they arrived at the floor, she raised a hand. "Wait here," she ordered them.

The doors slid open.

Perrin sat alone on the couch, a half-empty glass of amber liquor in hand. Of course. The years had not been kind to him. His once-thick hair, now thinning. He looked older, but then, so did she. The war had aged her, just as leisure had aged him. 

"What an honor," Perrin said, standing up with deliberate slowness. The mechanical restraint around his ankle hummed softly, its red light pulsing like a slow-beating heart. "The Supreme Chancellor in my own home. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Just Chancellor ," Mon corrected. She didn’t move further into the apartment. "I wanted to see how you were."

"They’ve locked my balcony," he said, as if that answered everything. "Afraid I’ll jump." He chuckled, swirling his drink. "As if I’d give them the satisfaction."

Mon studied him—really studied him—trying to find the boy he’d been at the Chandrilan Academy. The blue-eyed idealist who’d quoted historic reformers between kisses behind the lecture halls. The one everyone had predicted would rise to the Senate. Where had that boy gone?

"But enough about me." Perrin’s voice snapped her back. "Look at you. You’ve got everything you wanted."

She forced a smile. "Freedom for the galaxy?"

"How convenient that galactic freedom requires you at its helm." He took a sip, watching her over the rim. 

"Do you truly believe that’s why I did this?" Her fingers tightened around the datapad she carried. "That’s the reason I left?"

"So now you care what I think?" He barked a laugh, walking to the sidebar to refill his glass. "You know what it was like for us after you vanished? The interrogations? The way our friends looked at Leida and me? Thinking that they might send us to Narkina at any minute…" Ice clinked violently into his glass. "We had to prove our loyalty—all because of what you did”

"Oh, it must’ve been agonizing ," Mon said, her voice sharpening. She thought about the months spent in the bunker beneath the Great Temple of Yavin. Being whisked away by Commander Dodonna before the battle. Her cramped room onboards Ackbar’s ship, just a bulkhead between her and the cold, crushing depths of space. All the friends and comrades she had seen perish. "Between Cloud City and Canto Bight, trading favors with Davo Sculdun and Sly Moore. So unbearable, in fact, that you needed comfort from a Twi’lek girl young enough to be your daughter." She hadn’t sought out the gossip, but it had reached even Yavin—the holos of Perrin draped over petite turquoise shoulders. His grin wide, his eyes empty.

During the war, the Imperial propaganda machine had paraded him around on every galactic morning talk show. "Mon Mothma’s abandoned family speaks out!" . Perrin spun tales of her coldness and her alleged embezzlement. They say that was why she actually left Coruscant. The Imperial Tax Agency had issued an order for her arrest. And that hadn’t been the end of the absurd rumours. 

"They said you killed your driver," Perrin mused. "What was his name—Clovis? A lovers’ quarrel, apparently."

"No one with a brain believed that." Kloris , she thought. His name was Kloris .

"It didn’t matter what people believed," Perrin said. "It was the only story they let be told."  They even got Leida to appear on Good Morning, Coruscant with Moffi and Toffi, coached to trembling tears, calling her a traitor and worse - a poor mother.

"You used our own daughter against me", Mon said, tears of anger welling up in her eyes.Perrin shook his head. "No, she decided that on her own." The mention of Leida changed his demeanour. All of a sudden he appeared meek. His eyes peered downward.

“I’m not guilty of what they say I am”, Perrin said. “There are people a lot worse than me”. He did have a point. There were collaborators who still roamed free whose complicity in the imperial machine far outstripped Perrins. “But there are also people who are a lot better. I’ve had my chances… but our daughter. She doesn’t deserve this”, he appealed. 

The deep silence filled the room. Mon exhaled. She met his gaze. "That’s why I’m here. She’s receiving a full pardon."

She didn’t need to elaborate. What wasn’t said could speak for itself. The flicker in his eyes told her he understood: this was her severing the last thread between them. His life was now in the hands of The Force. His fate—trial, prison, or exile—would unfold without her interference. He went back to his couch and sat down.

The last time she’d stood in this apartment, she’d risen before dawn to rehearse her speech for the Senate. Perrin had slept soundly, oblivious. She’d almost woken him—not to confess, but to say goodbye to the memory of the boy who’d once written her name inside his textbook.

In the end, she’d left without a word.

"You know you could have trusted me. I know you didn't spend all that money on antiques", he said. "They questioned me multiple times - even before your escape - I never said anything". Her heart sank. She looked in his eyes and could for a split second recognise the boy she had once known. The Academy firebrand. "I never knew exactly what you and Tay Kolma were up to together, but I want you to know... I never took him seriously, as a rival..." He trailed off. For my affections?. They both knew it had been too late for that.

Mon didn't know what to say. What do you say to a man you'd shared so much of your life with? A man who knew you better than anyne, and yet didn't seem to understand you at all?

"Tay Kolma died for the cause," she said at last. It wasn't a lie, not exactly. Mon's holopad started beeping. "I think it's time I left," she said.

"Have a good evening, Chancellor ," Perrin said. She couldn’t tell if the title was a jab or surrender. Mon turned, the elevator doors sealing behind her like a tomb.

[bikananjarrus]

i think it's extra difficult to find any satisfaction at all with how they wrote cinta's death when i compare to the deaths in season 1. obviously we've got the big deaths: maarva, kino, nemik (out of the aldhani crew, his would probably be considered the "biggest" but really the whole crew). i think because of maarva's speech and nemik's manifesto, their deaths probably have the most bearing on the first season as a whole; their impact is lasting. deaths like clem and timm's come back around too; they have a purpose. but even those really "minor" deaths: the kenari leader, the other narkina-5 prisoners, xanwan and paak, even kreegyr, who we never even see on screen himself. they all had purpose and weight. they were all built up to. even newman, who was killed immediately after his introduction, because we'd spent the whole narkina arc building up to the prison break, him immediately attacking the guard, even when he really had no clue what was going on, it felt earned because we've spent so much time with the other prisoners. we knew the weight of the prison break, so we feel for newman.

it feels weird to say cinta didn't "earn" her death, but in terms of WRITING, and writing a satisfying story, her death was not satisfying. it didn't feel like there was any build up to it. it was an emotional scene, because of vel's reaction. but i think a lot of the emotional payoff came from me already caring about the characters, based primarily off what i'd seen of them in s1. i didn't even have time to get attached to s2 cinta before she was gone. so i felt a little cheated of the emotional impact too.

i don't want to keep comparing to s1, but when there was so much thought and care and purpose put behind (almost) every death in s1, it's really hard to reconcile that with what i just saw in s2 with one of their main characters.

[lighttailoring]

not gonna press the issue but I will die believing that the greatest threat in andor and the true ✨banality of evil✨ as presented on the show is not adherence (to fascism) but rather indifference - the woman shelling nuts while she hands out lengthy prison sentences to people who've obviously done no harm, not even really paying attention, just operating a machine over and over; the guards on narkina talking about their prisoners as though they're packages in a "delivery". gonna go to my grave believing that the pre-mor officer who'd have just Done Their Job and filed that report as "regrettable misadventure" like they'd been told to because they just want to collect their cheque and clock out without any trouble would have done more for the empire than mister pockets and piping could ever hope to in his wildest dreams

[musing-magpie]

Rewatching Andor season 1, i forgot that the moment where Cassian tells the Narkina guards to get on program makes me fucking excited. Like hell yeah intimidate their fascist asses

[bisexualwintermoon]

thinking abt andor again, specifically mon’s apartment & narkina 5, and how both of them are shades of white. thinking abt how narkina 5 is a prison, but the prisoners can talk to each other and the guards don’t really listen, but they have to stay on the schedule the guards give them, or else the floor gets turned on. thinking abt how mon is free, and can go where she wants when she wants, but nearly every word she says is overheard and scrutinized and reported back to the isb to see if she can be caught aiding the rebellion. thinking about how the empire builds more than one kind of prison.

[uwingdispatch]

💜💜💜💜 Thank you so much bestie!

With the Andor finale out, I wanted to share some of my favorite things I made to celebrate the series, including some of my newer items. I can only fit 30 in a post, so this is going to be hard. But I hope you enjoy this! And remember you can always use code TUMBLR15 at checkout for 15% off select accessories. Shop is here.

Note!

The Aurebesh on the maroon hoodie says BRASSO with the Ferrix Honor Guard Symbol.

On either side of the Sawpologist tee are Ferrix and Ghorman tees.

The Ferrix tee says "Stone and Sky" on the top and "Ferrix · Morlani System" on the bottom. The Ghorman tee says "Call your kin to come and sing" on the top and "Ghorman · Sern Sector" on the bottom.

Shop is here. Love y'all!

[andorshitdaily]

Coming soon....The Dead Poll

Whaddup Wandor Wednesday Warriors. Happy Monday. As we know, there's just a couple days left of the Stare Wars so that means a new bracket will be on the way soon.

But!

The usual Wandor Wednesday Wars competition will be on hold for a week before we get to try out a new format (it's looking like a ninja warrior competition, which will be very fun to imagine).

In the meantime, in honor and remembrance of all the characters we lost in Season One, we'll be holding a new competition:

THE DEAD POLL

(originally going to be the Dead Pool, but a fortunate typo occurred)

Here's what you need to know:

MAJOR SPOILERS!!!! DO NOT LOOK OR PARTICIPATE IF YOU DO NOT YET KNOW OR WANT TO KNOW HOW PEOPLE DIE IN THIS SHOW!!!!!

A normal single-elimination bracket

Choosing the most ICONIC death from Season One (not the funniest or saddest or whatever else and definitely not a character popularity thing!!!)

Poll rounds will be ONE DAY ONLY -- not week-long polls like usual, so this whole thing will only take a few days

The bracket and matchups:

Xaul vs. Jayhold Beehaz

Karis Nemik vs. Pre-Mor Chuds

Maarva Andor vs. Verlo Skiff

Kenari Alpha leader vs. Alkenzi TIE pilots

Corporal Kimzi vs. Yellow Pincushion Republic guy

Ulaf vs. guy Nemik shoots

Kravas Drezzer vs. Arvel Skeen

Salman Paak vs. Corv

North-3 vs. Taramyn Barcona

Ferrix hotel guard vs. Birnok

Zap Rod vs. Nurchi

Timm Karlo vs. Narkina Newman

Lieutenant Gorn vs. Xanwan

Clem Andor vs. Colonel Petigar

Anto Kreegyr vs. Veemoss

Sparta vs. Sparky

If you can't decode my silly character names (and I doubt you can for some), send me an ask!

Polls begin Thursday!

[fallenrocket]

I love so much that the prison break on Narkina 5 isn't a deeply complex escape plan designed by a small group of highly-skilled individuals to get themselves out, but rather an intelligent, mostly low-tech plan to upset the whole apple cart and give everyone a chance to get out. I love that Cassian and his allies come up with the main pillars of it through careful observation, knowledge, and collaboration. I love that it's set into motion by unexpected variables--the imminent arrival of a new man on the floor, made more urgent by the reveal of what happened on level 2 and why. I love that they bring the whole of Room 5-2D into the plan and everyone takes part, including the new man who just got fried recently, is probably terrified, and isn't prepared for any of this. I love that they send guys to other rooms and up and down the stairs, confronting the guards and encouraging the other inmates to take up arms. I love that Kino's speech calls for them to help one another, and I love that, while the 5-2D guys are able to offer freedom to the rest of the prison, the other inmates still need to be the ones to take it.

[piedaterreincensorshipville]

Finally watched Andor season 1 (a delay caused mostly by the fact that I didn't have Disney+ until recently). What an incredible show.

It struck me that Luthen in particular has a quite interesting narrative arc if you watch the show in reverse:

Luthen is a man who favors striking blue outfits when in polite company.

He escapes the attempts of an Imperial cruiser to hold him captive high in the skies above Segra Milo. Incidentally, the cruiser is under the command of one Captain Elk (definitely not to be confused with the beast ridden by certain filmic Elvenkings).

Luthen cultivates the loyalty of a mole in the ISB, the sort of person you'd normally expect to be a simple Imperial attack dog.

Meanwhile, Cassian Andor is held on the island prison of Narkina 5, under the lidless eyes of the guards stationed there. During the escape Cassian befriends his future companion Melshi - but of course, reading the story backwards, Melshi disappears as suddenly as if he had died in prison.

Luthen masterminds the theft by Cassian and other accomplices of a massive payroll from the underground vaults of an Imperial garrison on Aldhani. The survivors of the assault team escape with their treasure thanks to a celestial phenomenon that locals see as a messenger from the divine.

Luthen gives Cassian a fabulous necklace of nigh-incalculable value, and saves him from certain death at the hands of Pre-Mor Corporate Security, but Cassian suffers a notable arm injury.

And at one point in the show, he attempts to get Saw Gerrera (whose name comes from Spanish guerrero, "warrior") to work together with Anto Kreegyr (whose name comes from German Krieger, "warrior"): a feat as much of philology as of warfare.

I at least might surmise that, when he wishes, Luthen can walk "as light as leaf on lindentree".

[thevalleyisjolly]

[Image description: A GIFset comparing scenes from the prison escape in Andor Season 1 and the mission to Scarif in Rogue One, focusing on Cassian and Melshi. In Narkina, Cassian and Melshi stand directly across from each other in their cells and exchange meaningful looks; at the Rebel base, Cassian gives his speech to rally the troops and turns back to look seemingly at Melshi at the front of the crowd. On the factory floor in Narkina, Cassian looks at Melshi at the table and asks "Ready?" which Melshi responds "Yeah"'; on the Rogue One shuttle, Cassian gives instruction "Melshi...Pao...Baze, Chirrut, you'll take the main squad" and Melshi sits up in attention. In Narkina, Cassian and Melshi run through the hallways, shooting and killing the guards that come at them; on the Rogue One shuttle, Cassian says, "Once you get to the best spot, light the place up." In Narkina, Melshi stands guard in the hallway as escaping prisoners run past him, and turns to join them as Cassian passes; on the Rogue One shuttle, Melshi looks meaningfully at Cassian as they prepare to execute the mission. End ID]

ANDOR 1.10 “One Way Out” // Rogue One (2016)