Public Ashes and Echoes [Open to All Jedi]

[Kitter Bitters]

Location: Lasan - Northern Cave System
​

The signal went out without signature or flourish. No sender. No emblem. Only a familiar cipher that was old, precise, and unmistakable to those who had learned it by heart. A pattern woven into light and silence, taught only to Jedi in their earliest days.

For many, it was the first whisper of the Order in weeks. In the space of a breath, the galaxy had changed. The Galactic Alliance had fallen. The New Jedi Order had been shattered. The Temple on Coruscant, once a beacon of calm and clarity, now stood beneath Imperial banners, its halls patrolled by those who did not understand the echoes they walked through.

No procession would come through marble corridors. Gone were the gathered Masters beneath vaulted ceilings. The capital's open sky would not hear the ancient rites. Instead, fire would fill the silence.

Meanwhile, on Lasan, far from the Core and its watchful eyes, the wind cut across the plains and whispered through the mouth of the northern caves. At sundown, when the light bled gold into shadow, a pyre had been prepared as a simple, respectful, final resting place.

The Jedi arrived alone or in pairs. Some were cloaked. Others, weary. Wounds hid, deepest where none could see. Many doubted if others still breathed. Some had not spoken to a fellow Jedi since the night of the fall.

Yet they came.

They came for a Master who had guided them. For a teacher who had listened when the Force was unclear. For a voice that had steadied them in doubt, and challenged them in certainty. They came because even now, some things still mattered.

They came to honor the fallen Master Thalos Ren as he was returned to the living Force.

---

((Feel free to make up how your character knows Master Thalos. He is an NPC that could have interacted with your character in any way you want!))

 

[Matsu Ike]

​

Matsu stood alone atop A jagged snow-dusted peak, her her eyes looking at the vast expanse of a world shrouded in ethereal white silence and mists. Her long obsidian black hair hair dancing wildly but not in the crisp mountain wind/ The air moving her hair was elsewhere, her body floating just off the surface of the stone. Her body gliding through the molecules and atoms as mentally she moved the strands of her hair as they were whipping like silken threads and she gazes outward. Her back to the temple as it was being worked on and constructed. A flowing, translucent gown of pale blue clings to her form, trailing behind her like a cascade of mist, merging seamlessly with the sea of clouds that rolls endlessly below.

The sun hangs high in the clear skies casting a radiant glow that bathes the distant snow-capped mountains in golden light, while she stands perfectly still. Lost in quiet contemplation of the infinite horizon, her posture one of serene vigilance as if listening to the whispers of the world itself. Below Matsu, seated cross-legged in the deep untouched snow just a few paces from her Grandmaster, the young padawan meditates in serene defiance of the biting cold. Her rich brown skin glows warmly against the frozen landscape, long dark hair braided loosely and dusted with frost as swirling clouds drift around her bare shoulders and arms.

Clad only in a simple, flowing saffron-orange training robe that clings delicately to her form with its intricate golden borders shimmering faintly in the high-altitude sunlight she sits motionless, palms resting upward on her knees in a gesture of profound focus. Her eyes remain gently closed, breath steady and visible in faint plumes as she channels the ancient Jedi techniques but also she was following the training of her grandmaster. Transcending the piercing wind and numbing chill allowing her mind to wander the vast currents of the force while her body endures the elements unyielding. Matsu, ever vigilant, stands as silent guardian and teacher, her own presence a quiet anchor for the trial unfolding in the white silence.

Further back from the meditating apprentice, sheltered beneath a shallow overhang of ancient ice and rock that juts from the mountainside stand the identical twins hired personally by Matsu's wife Hanna Ike to serve as the Grandmaster's indispensable relays to the wider galaxies. Clad in form-fitting white thermal bodysuits lined with subtle gold accents that mirror their intricate braided hairstyles. The sisters position themselves with practiced efficiency one tapping discreetly at a holographic datapad and her interface moving quickly coordinating upcoming council meetings and initiative dispatches.

While the other scans incoming transmissions through her interface, her sharp eyes alert for anything requiring immediate attention. Their warm ebony skin contrasts starkly with the frozen expanse, yet they move with unhurried grace, bodies insulated against the cold as they maintain perfect synchronicity whispering updates to each other in low tones. Matsu remained there as she had her hands clasped behind her back watching the padawan but she offered a small smile on her face. The Atrisian always seemed to be getting younger and younger. A fact Hanna loved as they preserved each other in the force and she broke the silence. "Focus on your breathing."

She said it and remained there as she felt it before it happened. The ping traveling through the networks they had been setting up across the universe. Accessible for any jedi that needed it. She offered a small smile though as she drifted over the snow away from the padawan to not disturb her. The twins coming over as they spoke bringing up and sending the information. "There is a passing notification grandmaster." The voice came and it was mechanical yes but also gauging Matsu's reaction to the news. The jedi master held her hand out as the molecules shifted and mirrored at a quantum state with art of the small the datapad being used to present the information.

This allowing her to see it as it shimmered in the air above her hand with a nod of her head. "I see, I will go and check on it. See him off as it were." She moved back while speaking. "Clear my schedule where you can and reschedule what is important. The training is in Master Dejah's hands for now." She received nods of their heads as the jedi master looked out on the temple that was being constructed. her hand closing for a moment when she allowed the force energies to wrap around her body. Matsu didn't vanish in a flash of light; instead, the world simply began to lose its density. To those watching, she might have seemed to shimmer like a mirage before her presence grew faint, as if she were becoming a memory.

For Matsu, the sensation was like stepping into a shallow stream that ran just beneath the floor of the temple. The physical world remained visible, but it was now the unbeing a gray, overlapping reality ribbon where the physical and the force bled together. The construction droids became slow-moving shadows, and the half-built spires of the temple stretched upward like skeletal fingers into a sky that was no longer blue, but a swirling vortex of silver and obsidian. This was the perimeter of reality. Matsu found the specific ribbon, the specific current of the force that acted as a cosmic shortcut. She stepped onto it, her boots making no sound on the shimmering path.

She moved with a rhythmic, practiced gait, her mind focused on the crystalline resonance of Lasan. Around her, the unbeing pressed in. It was a realm of echoes; she could see the ghostly outlines of stars passing by like distant embers under ice. Because this layer intermingled so closely with the physical, she could feel the gravity of the planets she bypassed, a gentle tugging at her along the path. Time began to dilate. A million light-years felt like a hundred paces. The gray haze of the unbeing began to ripple, the silver ribbon beneath her feet vibrating as it aligned with the rugged, mountainous terrain of the Outer Rim. The unbeing started to regain its being the shadows of the void coalescing into the purple-hued atmosphere and high-altitude winds of her destination.

With a final, deliberate breath, Matsu stepped off the ribbon and allowed the physical world to solidify around her once more. The cold silence of the Netherworld snapped away, replaced instantly by the thin, sharp air and the distant of the jedi who were coming. She stood upon the red rocks of Lasan, the journey complete before the dust on her shimmering robes had even settled. The jedi grandmaster was there for a moment as she thought about the jedi she had come here for Thalos Ren had been interesting for some time. Before she was moving with her hands behind her back. The jedi grandmaster floating forward with the molecules around her shifting and gliding over her form so her hair and robes moved with their own wind.

 

[Dankaia Virkenn]

[]

Sleep Tonight - The Birthday Massacre​

Tag: Kitter Bitters / Matsu Ike

Dankaia walked alone toward the Northern Caves of Lasan, the wind humming through fractured stone like a distant power conduit left half-awake. The native lichen pulsed faintly along the path, syncing with the quiet rhythm of her steps, while her robes whispered against her armored outfit, worn smooth by years of movement and conflict.

The caves loomed ahead; ancient, patient, carved by time and something deeper than geology, an interface between memory and stone. Every step closer felt like a system booting up long-dormant subroutines in her mind, unlocking fragments she had sealed away for survival rather than peace.

As a Youngling, she remembered sitting cross-legged in cold lecture halls while Master Ren spoke not in rigid doctrine, but in layered metaphors of balance not as stillness but as regulated flow. He taught them that the Force was not a blade to be sharpened, but a network to be understood, one node dependent on another.

His voice had carried a warmth that softened the severity of the Order's walls, and Dankaia had clung to his words like encrypted wisdom meant only for those willing to listen between the lines.

When she became his Padawan, it was Master Ren who steadied her during failures that felt catastrophic at the time, missteps that sent training remotes spiraling or missions collapsing into chaos. He never corrected her with impatience. Instead, he guided her hands back to center, reminding her that even damaged components could be recalibrated.

And when she finally rose as a Jedi Knight, it was his hand on her shoulder first, his smile quiet but unmistakably proud, as though he had always seen that future written in her long before she could.

After the accident, after metal screamed, flesh burned, and doubt rewrote her internal code, Dankaia had come to him again, broken in ways no bacta tank or meditation cycle could fully repair. She told him she was thinking of leaving the Order, of severing herself from a system that suddenly felt vacant and obsolete.

Master Ren did not stop her. He only listened, then told her that choice, like the Force, must be owned completely or not at all. Now, standing at the threshold of the Northern Caves, she bowed her head, preparing herself to pay respects not just to the Master she had lost, but to the part of herself he had helped her build; and never truly let go.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Cybernetics / Bionics
  • Left Hand
  • Cybernetic Brain Chip
  • Cybernetic Heart
  • Cybernetic Spine
  • Cybernetic Rib Cage
  • Cybernetic Limb
• Weapon(s)
  • Lightsaber

 

[Pari Sylune]

Pari had attended too many funerals now. Not all of them had been Jedi, but since the chaos in the Core, far too many had been. Loss had become a familiar companion, quiet, persistent, impossible to ignore.

Among the Chalactan Adepts, death was not viewed as an ending. They believed in return, in the cycling of the spirit through the Force, in rebirth rather than disappearance. It was a belief Pari had been raised with, woven into her understanding of life itself. Though it differed from the more orthodox Jedi teachings, she clung to it now. It gave her comfort to think that perhaps the galaxy had not truly lost Master Ren but that his presence would ripple outward once more, subtle but enduring, shaping lives in ways unseen.

It was not much, but it eased the ache in her chest.

Her thoughts drifted back to Naboo, to the healing chambers at the Sanctuary. Master Ren had spent time there often, not as a healer, exactly, but as someone who offered his hands wherever they were needed. He had spoken with her during the long, quiet hours between crises, offering gentle words and quiet encouragement. When the refugees from the Core had flooded in, exhausted and afraid, he had praised her tireless work without ceremony or expectation.

They were small moments, but together, they had painted a clear picture of the man he had been, kind, patient, and quietly devoted. The sort of person the galaxy would feel the absence of long after the flames died down.

She arrived with others from the New Republic, disembarking in silence. The air on Lasan was cool, heavy with stillness, as she walked toward the pyre. Her teak-colored eyes found Dankaia Virkenn among the gathered mourners. They had never spoken, not truly, but Pari knew who she was.

Master Ren's Padawan.

The realization struck deep, and her heart ached for the woman. Whatever grief Pari carried, Dankaia's must be immeasurable.

Without a word, Pari stepped closer and slipped her small hand into the other woman's, a quiet gesture of solidarity. No words were needed. She offered a slight nod to those nearby, then turned her gaze forward.

There, wrapped in cloth and resting atop the pyre, lay the body of Master Thalos Ren.

The fire had not yet been lit.

And for a moment longer, the galaxy still held him.


Matsu Ike Dankaia Virkenn

 

[Malcolm Ironmaster]

Master Malcolm Ironmaster arrived at the memorial on Lasan, resplendent in ceremonial white robes, a marked change from his usual blues and greys. His blaster was peace-bound in its holster, and his saber remained holstered at his hip as well. His hat was held in his left hand, out of respect for the fallen master and those who were gathering to remember him.

Malcolm had never actually met Master Thalos Ren himself, but was familiar with his reputation. Jedi, regardless of their Order, were few and far between these days, and the loss of any Jedi was a tragedy worthy of mourning, a life worth celebrating, though the loss of a Master was even more tragic. Paying one's respects was an honor that seemed to be getting more and more frequent as the Empire and other enemies of the Light became more aggressive.

The Jedi Musketeer lingered at the edges of the gathered mourners, allowing those who'd known Ren better to grieve in dignity.

Tags: Kitter Bitters , Matsu Ike , Dankaia Virkenn , Pari Sylune

 

[Krotta]

TAG: Kitter Bitters / OPEN

Northern Cave System, Lasan

In many ways, Krotta felt out of place. He was never a member of the New Jedi Order: his training was in the galactic fringes, by a wandering master. He did not know Master Thalos: Krotta and his clan had kept hidden during centuries of galactic unrest. Yet, as a Jedi, he felt it his duty to attend a wake mourning a kindred member of the Jedi family....and also celebrate their sacred transition into the Living Force.

The diminutive being kept his hood up out of reverence for the ceremony. Although, his goblinoid ears still were obvious. As he meditated on this fallen Master he now shared in the memory of, he also took note of how the Force seems to come in cycles. The Galaxy was much like the one his family left. His grandsires fled Palpatine and the original Inquisitors. Now, Sidious' successors once again clutch the core in an iron claw.

Yet, for Krotta, he saw hope around him. This new descendant Empire may have conquered the main temple....but the Order's light shown still. Here on Lasan. In the High Republic. And even in the fringes of Wild Space, among his fellow Bokken. And one day, the Jedi will rise against the darkness. Much like Master Thalos. Where there was death, the Force shall renew! Where there is shadow, the illumination will spark.

Yet, his eyes flicked over to one of the young women in attendance. He had overheard her name as Dankaia Virkenn . From his understanding, she was the latest in the line of Thalos' personal padawans. His rounded eyes softened in sympathy. As many Jedi knew, the relationship between Master and Apprentice was one that is challenging yet extremely meaningful. And though the code tells one to forgo attachments, it is nonetheless a hard strike to the heart when a personal mentor passes on.

Once more the progeny of Yoda's People focused his eyes ahead to the ceremony. So many emotions on this day of sorrow.