Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Brother, My Brother || Acier




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SINNER'S WELL, RYLOTH

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The Kom’rk shrieked across the twilight sky like a blade unsheathed.

Aether sat in silence as the vessel descended, his gaze fixed on the jagged horizon. Ryloth's surface stretched out beneath him: arid, hostile, familiar. Somewhere among the broken stone and windswept dust waited the legacy he had never asked for.

He could still feel her eyes. Not the Manda’s. Hers.

He had knelt at the edge of the Living Waters, surrounded by warriors whose loyalty had never wavered, whose faith in the Creed matched his own. One by one, they had been tested by the sacred space and emerged changed. Marked. Blessed.

When it had been his turn, the silence of the deep was broken not by a voice, but by a presence. Cloaked in darkness, shaped in memory. His mother.

She had scolded him. Had judged his path. Despite this, she stood there, as she always had, and loved him.

Aether had rejected her. Her legacy. Her truth.

But the Manda had shown him what his pride had blinded him to: that he was both his parents' son. That there was strength not only in the Creed, but in the current of power that flowed through his veins: a power he had refused to claim.

Until now.

The Kom’rk touched down in a plume of dust, a respectful distance from the cragged face of the mountain. The fortress loomed beyond it, half-swallowed by stone, its spires sunken and its gates long silent. Sinner’s Well.

His father’s sanctuary. His sister's refuge. The crucible where secrets were forged.

Aether disembarked alone.

The wind howled low as he picked his way across the terrain, silver beskar dulled beneath a coat of fine dust. Each step forward felt heavier, not from fatigue, but from what waited at the end.

The doors did not challenge him.

Towering, ancient, forged of obsidian and alloy, they did not rattle nor resist. They simply knew the blood of his father. With a groan that echoed through the valley, they parted for him, and sealed shut behind him with a thunderous finality.

He stood still for a long moment, eyes adjusting to the dim.

It reeked of shadow inside. Of power left to rot. The air was thick, not with dust, but with presence. It curled around the edges of his consciousness like smoke. Hungry. Testing.

He hated it. But he did not flinch.

"This is not yours," he muttered to the darkness. "It’s mine. And I will make it serve."

His boots echoed against the stone as he moved forward. Down corridors lined with forgotten tomes. Past murals scorched by Force fire. Toward the lower levels, where the alchemical sanctum waited.

Toward the relic that would make him whole.




 
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The journey from Ord Mantell to Ryloth had been quiet, not in the way silence soothed, but in the way it pressed. Acier rode alone now, the low hum of the speeder bike rising and falling with the canyons of the Ryloth wastes.

He'd landed the day before, catching a ride off Ord Mantell from a smuggler with more credits than questions. Now, the jagged horizon stretched ahead of him like something half-remembered from a dream. The Nightsister spindle he'd recovered from Peridea lie inside his jacket.

The relic that started all of this. It hadn't made sense at first. The visions it triggered when he practiced psychometry came fractured, buried beneath noise and static. But one image cut through it all: a scorched symbol carved into stone, a fortress swallowed by dust, and a sigil, some kind of crest, that pulsed with a meaning he didn't yet understand. It had followed him since. Drawn him here. And now, as he sped across Ryloth's sunblasted terrain toward the place the spindle had shown him. That pull twisted deeper in his gut. Whatever waited for him out there… maybe it had something to do with who he was. Even if he didn't know what he was asking yet.

The wind shifted. What had been miles of monotonous red-brown wasteland began to change, subtly at first. The dust grew finer. The ridges sharper. The sky above, tinged with ash-colored light, seemed to press lower the closer he got. Acier eased off the throttle slightly, squinting ahead as the outline of something wrong began to cut across the horizon.

At first, it barely looked like anything at all, just a jagged formation swallowed by the stone around it. But as the speeder crested a rise, the illusion peeled back. There it was.

A spire. No… a fortress. Half-consumed by the mountain. The walls seemed carved from the same obsidian and alloy as the vision burned into his mind. Ancient. Sunken. Still. Like the planet itself had tried to forget it existed and failed.

His chest tightened, a flicker of vertigo sweeping over him. The Nightsister spindle, tucked beneath his jacket, throbbed faintly against his chest, not physically, but through the Force. The same presence he'd felt in the vision was here. Not alive, exactly. But waiting. He didn't know what this place was. Didn't know who built it. Or why it felt like the silence here could hear him. But he knew this was it.

The speeder's engine sputtered low as Acier eased it to a stop on the bluff overlooking the canyon. Dust swirled in the wake of his arrival, curling around him as he dismounted. For a moment, he just stood there - the barren wind tugging at his jacket, the spindle beneath his coat heavy with silence.

The fortress rose from the stone like a half-buried memory, carved straight into the cliffside. It looked ancient, sunken, and asleep. It felt dark and... cold. The kind of place that shouldn't exist, let alone call to someone. But it had. Through flame-colored visions and the twisted language of psychometry. This place had pulled him.

His boots crunched over brittle earth as he approached the base of the stairway. The carved steps were weather-worn, choked by sand and time, but they still held their shape, still led somewhere. Each footfall echoed softly, muffled by the weight of dust. He reached the top, heart in his throat, one hand unconsciously grazing the Nightsister spindle hidden beneath his jacket.

Then, with no warning, no sound of gears or servos - the stone doors opened. Not all the way. Just enough for passage. The air shifted. A low exhale from the depths.

Acier froze. His hand went instinctively to his lightsaber, but didn't draw it. There was no threat, not exactly. Only the sense that the building itself had seen him. Had recognized something it hadn't in a long time. He looked over his shoulder. No one. The yawning doorway continued to open.

"…Right," he muttered under his breath. "That's not weird at all."

He stepped inside. The air was cooler, stale with age. His footsteps were quiet now, swallowed by stone. The deeper he went, the stronger the pull became, like something in the walls knew him. Knew something about him. Then, as he rounded a shadowed archway, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Someone was already here. Someone powerful.

Aether Verd Aether Verd

 

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SINNER'S WELL

Aether stilled, hand hovering over the threshold of the sanctum where he knew the heart would be hidden. The ancient dark called to him, ready to bend, ready to serve, when the heavy silence broke. The doors of the Sinner’s Well opened with a groan that rolled through the stone like distant thunder. His mind went first to his father, to the specter of that man’s shadow, for there were few alive who even knew of this place, fewer still who could pass its wards.

But the dread he expected did not come.

He reached with the Force, letting the gloom press against his awareness, and found not the abyss that was his sire, but something else. Something smaller, like a candle guttering before a storm, and yet there, stubborn in its light. Confusion flickered across his features as he blinked once, turning to see who had disturbed the Well.

The man standing there was a stranger, but not without familiarity. Dark skin that matched his own, dreadlocks though worn differently, the quiet mantle of the Force resting on his shoulders in a way that spoke of inheritance rather than theft. The Well had opened for him, the ancient seals parting without protest, and that alone said enough.

Aether laughed. It was not a warm sound. It was a cold, sharp noise that cut through the stale air, unsettling the silence that had made its home within these walls.

Another one, eh? Welcome home I suppose.” His hand swept out, indicating the dark halls and hungry shadows that surrounded them both, the legacy of dust and secrets. His voice then hardened, the mirth falling away like ash from cooling coals. “Though I must ask for you to state your business.”

The Well did not open without reason, but Aether had not come to waste time, even on the matters of blood.​

 

Location: Ryloth - Sinner's Well

Equipment:
Standard Outfit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

He prepared himself, hands hovering over both lightsaber and blaster. Then he came. A Mandalorian. Acier had only ever heard about them in stories from Red, a culture of armored warriors who were feared and respected across the galaxy. Now one was standing in front of him, it felt as if he was looking into the eyes of a mythic figure. That wasn't just it either. Through the Force, he could feel the power that pulsated off of him. It hit Ace like heat. Fire. Controlled and contained, but it still burned hot.​
Hot iron buried in coals. The kind of fire that chose when to burn, and when to wait. There was purpose in it. Like a forge that had seen centuries of use and remembered every blade it had shaped.​
Ace quickly realized that if this were to end in a fight, it wasn't one he was going to win. Quickly, he held his hands up.​
After what felt like an eternity long staredown, the Mandalorian broke the silence - laughing. It didn't sound like one of joy, or warmth, but almost like... disdain?​
Then, he spoke, his voice was commanding with a hint of amusement. The Mandalorian referred to Ace as 'another one' - whatever that meant, shortly before welcoming him home? Home? He didn't understand. It hung for a few moments before it all clicked. The echoes that the spindle had shown him, this place... 'Welcome home'.​
His copper eyes shifted to the Mandalorian, analyzing all of his features. Dark skin, dreadlocks, the Force? He even shared a slight resemblence to Ace. But... the age was all wrong... the Mandalorian didn't look more than thirty-odd. Too young to be his father, then. But maybe... family still?​
Ace wouldn't jump to conclusions yet. For now, he'd comply and answer the question. Reaching the inside of his jacket pocket, the freckle-faced youth presented the Dathomiri bone spindle.​
"This." he stated bluntly "It, or the Force, showed me this place." then he placed the relic back inside his jacket.​
His expression was blank, like he was trying to hide how he really felt - caution. Ace's brow furrowed ever so slightly, trying to gauge the Mandalorian's body language.​
"I'm here for answers." he added. Purposely vague. "What even is this place?"
 
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SINNER'S WELL

Aether watched with a quiet, growing intrigue as the young man drew forth the spindle from within his jacket. At first glance, it looked like nothing, a shard of bone that might have been plucked from the remains of some long-forgotten beast. But as it caught the thin light of the Well, as the air seemed to shiver around it, he felt it. The pull of the ancestors. The whispers of ichor curling like smoke at the edges of his mind. Dathomir was in its marrow, and the spindle thrummed with the promise of what had been, what could be, and what had been locked away.

Aether folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head with a low exhale.

“I will oblige you with some answers,” he said, leveling his gaze with the young man’s, “so long as you commit to not getting in my way.” His tone softened, only slightly, a note of caution threading through the iron. “It is not my intention to see harm befall you. What I seek here is dangerous, even for me, and that is why it has been locked away so far from the comforts of civilization.”

He lifted a hand, gesturing to the stone walls and the gloom that surrounded them, letting the weight of the place speak as much as his words. “This is Sinner’s Well. A fortress raised by a Mandalorian named Isley Verd, though the Galaxy knew him better as Darth Metus. When he ruled the southern systems through his Confederacy, this was his home, the crucible where he pushed the Dark Side to its very limits. Horrors were made here, as well as masterpieces.”

His hand dropped, but he lifted a finger, pointing it toward the young man. “And speaking of born, you should know that this place is warded by magicks both ancient and terrible. Only those of Darth Metus’ direct blood could see the doors open to receive them.”

Aether’s thumb moved to his chest, the metal of his gauntlet clicking softly against the beskar there. “I am Aether Verd, son of Isley Verd, Mand’alor of the Mandalorian Empire.” His eyes narrowed with a sharp, assessing glint, though not without a thread of acceptance beneath it. “And if you are standing here before me, called to this place as it opened for you, then it stands to reason that you too are another of the many souls I call brother.”

 

Location: Ryloth - Sinner's Well

Equipment:
Standard Outfit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

It couldn't be this easy could it? The Mandalorian was going to just give him answers for barely anything in return? For so long it was always just more questions with every new discovery he made but now... he was about to get what he'd searched for for so long. Ace nodded, complying with the Mandalorian's request.

Then he listened to all of it. What Sinner's Well was, its purpose, Isley Verd or Darth Metus, and who he was - then finally, the Mandalorian introduced himself too. Aether Verd, Metus' son and... the ruler of the Mandalorians. Ace really had just met the Mandalorian Empire's leader. His eyes beamed with curiosity.

Though, what came next felt like the entire galaxy had just disappeared around him. Aether called him brother. Which meant that his father was... was Isley Verd, Darth Metus. Since his birth, all these long years, Acier finally had one half of an answer he'd been searching for. The identity of his father. Acier subconsciously took a slight step back, eyes shifting to his left and right. His face went as white as his locks.

"I--I..." he stammered, incapable of finding the words.

This was all so surreal, it felt like everything and nothing at the same time. Like a huge weight had been lifted off of his chest, but now had been replaced with something else. Ace struggled to process everything - the abruptness of Aether's revelation, the implications of it all, the desire to learn more about their family, and so much more.

And Aether? That was a shock too... he had a brother, and by the sounds of it, even more out there. Not only that, but his brother was the ruler of the Mandalorian Empire! Ace didn't get excited by a lot of things, but this? Knowing the greatness of his lineage, his family, after believing himself to have come from nothing. Something about it felt vindicating.

Despite it all, Ace steeled himself, breathing deeply he was able to muster one sentence.

"...where is he? Our father." he asked, shortly before feeling the need to introduce himself to his brother "I'm Acier. Acier Moonbound, by the way."

Aether Verd Aether Verd
 

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SINNER'S WELL

Aether’s eyebrow lifted as Acier stepped back, his expression unreadable for a moment. It was unfortunate how accustomed he had become to this conversation, but such was the legacy of their father. Isley Verd had taken the notion of sowing wild oats and turned it into a lifelong ambition, scattering pieces of himself across the stars with reckless devotion.

He remained silent, watching with a quiet intrigue as Acier wrestled with the truth that had just been dropped into his hands. It made sense that the young man would ask, that the discovery of his sire’s identity would kindle the desire to meet him face to face, to grasp the piece of himself that had always been missing.

Aether shrugged lightly, the motion rolling across his shoulders as the beskar plates shifted. “As far as I am aware, our father drifts between the Shiraya Expanse and Jutrand. It is difficult to say exactly where he is at any given moment, and I do not make it a point to keep up-to-the-minute tabs on his whereabouts.” His voice remained even, steady in the dim light of the Well. “But if you wish, I can give you the means to contact him when you are ready.”

His head tilted, eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the name that had been given. “Moonbound.” he repeated, letting the word roll off his tongue before a low chuckle escaped him. “Acier Verd sounds far better, at least in my opinion, though I will admit I am biased.”

His hand lifted, gesturing toward the spindle that had led Acier here. “Tell me, Acier. What did that bone show you that brought you to the Well? What is it that you are hoping to find within these walls, aside from the truth we have uncovered here today?”

 

Location: Ryloth - Sinner's Well

Equipment:
Standard Outfit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

Acier listened to Aether attentively, and with baited breath. Revealing the potential location of their father - somewhere between the Shiraya Expense and Jutrand. Just knowing he was somewhere in those regions, that he was tangible... Ace expected to jump at the chance to meet him. But, something stirred within him, it felt like reluctance. Anxiousness and fear over the idea of finally coming face to face with his father.

"I... I don't know..." he said softly, nervousness in his tone "Maybe. But... thank you, though." he wasn't quite ready to meet him. Not just yet.

He wasn't sure but, Acier suspected a twinge of resentment come from Aether as he spoke of Metus. Was there bad blood between them, or strain? If there was... it made sense. It seemed that with all the siblings they had scattered across the galaxy, he'd imagined Metus wasn't a present father - looking at himself as an example. But now he was just making assumptions over what could very well be nothing. After all, he didn't know Aether.

A small smirk tugged at his lips, followed by a light snicker. Acier Verd. It did have a nice ring to it, and sure, he was a Verd by blood but... Moonbound. That was the name he carried when he had nothing. When the galaxy called him nobody, and he refused to disappear. That name still mattered, maybe now more than ever.

"It's the name they gave me at the orphanage. Back on Bonadan. Their idea of a joke, I guess." even if he was named ironically. That name carried him through every shadow the galaxy could throw at him.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, inflating his cheeks with air as he pondered Aether's question. Then he let out a deep exhale, gaze lowered to his boots. What the bone showed him? He wasn't even completely sure himself, but he tried his best to answer.

"It showed me... this place, and the Force sort of guided me here, I guess."


He didn't know how to explain it, if what he was saying was even right. Despite the Jedi holocron's basic training, he still barely understood the Force itself. Ace's eyes rose to meet Aether's once more, expression softening slightly.

"I was here hoping I'd find some information, anything, about my parents..." he dryly chuckled through his nostrils "Got way more than I bargained for meeting you. Now? I don't know. I guess I have more questions, who my mother was and... why they left me."

He broke eye contact after that, allowing a crack of vulnerability to leak to the surface. Whenever he dwelled on his parents, their reasons for leaving him to grow up alone on Bonadan - it pained him. Ace gently shook his head and his gaze snapped back to Aether.

"You said you were looking for something here. Something dangerous. What?" he paused for a moment, but he stared intensely into his brother's eyes both determined and curious "Maybe I can help."

He offered, patting the lightsaber hidden behind his jacket on his belt. He didn't know how to use it properly, but he was scrappy, had the Force to guide him - and a Mandalorian older brother. What could go wrong?

Aether Verd Aether Verd

 

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SINNER'S WELL

Aether listened in silence as Acier explained the origin of his surname. When the word Moonbound left the younger man’s lips, there was something in Aether’s expression that shifted. Not pity. Not derision. Just the slow settling of understanding, shaped by the hard edges of lived experience. He gave a low, mirthless chuckle, though the sound held no mockery.

“Moonbound,” he repeated, letting the name hang in the air for a breath. “It may have started as a joke... but it clearly carried you far.”

He stepped forward, resting a hand lightly against the hilt of his lightsaber, the gesture idle more than defensive.

“But the Verd name carries more than coin or relics or the deeds to old keeps. It carries an inheritance. A birthright. Centuries of warriors, tacticians, and stubborn survivors who refused to bow to anyone. That blood runs through your veins now, whether you claim it or not. You are part of something larger than yourself, Acier. That doesn’t mean you have to give up who you’ve been. But do not mistake where you come from.”

As he finished, his arms crossed over his chest, posture steady as stone while he waited for Acier’s reply. The young man’s answer came slowly, but Aether did not rush him. The Force had led him here. That much was clear. The rest would reveal itself in time.

He nodded once.

“If there are questions I can help answer, I will. And if you ever find yourself in need of something, anything, you will have it. We’re kin. That is reason enough.”

Aether’s expression lightened just slightly, a dry chuckle escaping his chest.

“I’m used to being the younger sibling. Looks like I’ll finally have a chance to be the elder for a change.”

The shift in tone was brief, however. When Acier offered his help, Aether’s expression hardened again, the light behind his eyes cooling. His voice, when it came, was flat and final.

“No.”

He held that silence a moment longer, letting the word settle before continuing.

“The way of our family is not one of charity. Nothing of worth is given freely. It is earned. Or taken. And what I seek here cannot be shared.”

Aether took a step closer, gaze unwavering.

“What I chase requires strength of mind, not just skill of hand. I do not say this to insult you. I say it because you are not ready. Not for this. I am not even certain I am. But the burden is mine to carry.”

He looked toward the deep corridors that lay ahead, darker and quieter than before, as if the Well itself was listening.

“You came seeking truth. Hold onto that. Build yourself upon it. The rest will come in time.”

Then he turned back to his brother.

“But do not rush to follow where you are not yet meant to walk.”

 

Location: Ryloth - Sinner's Well

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Equipment:
Standard Outfit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

Acier smiled to himself, feeling a sense of pride upon Aether's acknowledgement of his given surname. The fact that Aether understood what it meant to him, meant more than the Mandalorian could know.

Ace's eyes shifted to Aether's hand, tracking it as he rested it on the hilt of his lightsaber. Not sensing or feeling any threat against him, his copper eyes moved back to his brother's. The young man listened intently as his newfound brother explained to him what it meant to be a Verd, its importance. The way in which Aether spoke of their lineage, it filled him with more pride. They -- he was descended from a line of warrios, tacticians and survivors.

Hearing that, hearing Aether tell him that same blood runs through him now. It began to make other things make sense, his will to survive, his instinct for fighting, his sharp and adaptive mind. It all came from them. Of course it did.

He found himself smiling again. The sense of belonging, knowing who he was, the euphoria hadn't quite faded yet.

"--If you ever find yourself in need of something, anything, you will have it. We’re kin. That is reason enough.”

Acier felt something warm build in his chest. He didn't show it, but it lingered behind his smirk, softened the tension in his shoulders just a little. Kin. He hadn't expected that. Not from someone like Aether. Not without strings attached. But the offer had come without hesitation, without demand. That meant something, more than he'd let on.

The pair seemed to actually be building a rapport - Acier, elated to find answers and family, while Aether seemed genuinley pleased to have discovered a new sibling. The atmosphere didn't last, however.

After offering his help, it seemed Aether's demeanor shifted back to how he had been earlier. He explained that what he sought couldn't be shared. As if Ace wanted anything in return, he just wanted to help in some way. He felt it was the least he could do after Aether just lifted a seventeen year weight from his shoulders.

Aether let him down gently. Although his tone was calm, almost curt, Acier could tell from his words that it was coming from a place of care.

Ace bowed his head - part disappointment, part understanding. He hadn't meant to overstep. Whatever this was, it clearly mattered to Aether and he would respect that.

"I understand." it almost came out as a whisper. Then he lifted his head, a smirk having formed on his freckled face "You ever need anything from me, you let me know."

Aether Verd Aether Verd
 

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SINNER'S WELL, RYLOTH

Aether watched him closely. The way his words had landed, the flicker of realization behind Acier’s eyes, the subtle pride that stirred in the younger man’s stance. There was a light there now, dancing quietly in his gaze, as if he were beginning to see the shape of something long missing. Identity. Belonging. Aether had painted a picture of what it meant to be Verd, and Acier was starting to step into the frame.

But he also saw what happened when he declined the offer of help. The deflation. The quiet disappointment that slipped in before Acier masked it with understanding. Aether sighed, low and quiet, and stepped forward. He stopped just a pace away, the firelight stretching between them, casting shadows against the ancient stone.

Silence lingered for a moment longer before Aether reached out, wrapping his dominant arm around the younger man and pulling him into a brief but firm embrace. It was not ceremonial. It was not for show. It was family.

“You’ll have my personal comm frequency,” he said quietly, voice close to Acier’s ear. “And the coordinates to every Mandalorian safehouse I trust. If things ever go sideways, you’ll have places to run. You’ll be safe, come what may.”

When he stepped back, his hand briefly rested on Acier’s shoulder before falling to his side. Then he turned, gesturing behind him toward the darkened corridor that wound deeper into the Well’s forgotten bowels.

“What I came here to find is called the Phobis Device,” he said plainly. “A relic left behind by our father. A weapon made through the Force, capable of unraveling the minds of entire worlds. Not through fire. Not through blood. Through fear.”

His voice held no drama, just truth.

“That’s why I didn’t want you following me. Not just because of our family’s way, but because if that thing turns its power on you, it could shatter your mind. I would never forgive myself for dragging my brother into that and leaving him a shell.”

He turned again to face him, arms folding across his chest as a dry smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“That can wait, though.”

His gaze shifted toward Acier’s belt, where the familiar hilt of a lightsaber rested.

“I saw the saber,” he said, with mild curiosity. “Tell me. Are you trained?”

He tilted his head slightly, studying the man before him.

“I don’t smell the Light clinging to you. Don’t feel the Dark bleeding out of you either. So what is it? Did the Jedi or the Sith ever get their claws in you?”

The question hung in the air between them, not as a test, but as an invitation. One meant to stir that spark in his brother’s eyes again.​

 

Location: Ryloth - Sinner's Well


Equipment:
Standard Outfit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

What came next was completely unexpected. He tensed instinctively when Aether's armored arm pulled him in. For a second, his body resisted, until he registered what it was. An embrace. Ace was completely taken aback by the display of affection, so stunned that for a moment his arms hovered in the air before wrapping both of them around his brother's broader frame.​
He hadn't been held like this in years. Maybe ever. Not like this. This just further solidified what this was - brotherhood. Ace really had a brother, and one who cared for him.​
Aether didn't owe him anything. They'd just met. Although they were bound by blood, Acier was still essentially just a stranger to the Mandalorian. But here he was, offering protection and sanctuary.​
Before they pulled away, Acier snickered "Damn, Aether. You've known me all of two seconds and already giving me special treatment?" Even through the sarcasm, there was something softer in his gaze. Something that said 'thank you'. He hoped the Mandalorian would be able to pick up on it.​
Acier's gaze then followed to where his brother was now gesturing to, the darker corridor that led to places unbeknownst to him. He explained what he was searching for, something called the Phobis Device, something their father had left behind. Its capabilities, from what Aether had described, sounded horrific. It made him wonder what such a device would even be needed for, and what it said about their father for even harboring it. Then his eyes shifted to Aether, wondering what he could possibly want it for.​
But he understood the gravity of it, why Aether refused his assistance. He nodded in understanding, ready to follow up with a question as to why he was even seeking this device. However, Aether switched topics, having turned his attention to Ace's lightsaber. Then came the question he'd become so used to hearing - are you trained?​
Ace shook his head, tracing his finger over the hilt of his lightsaber "Not formally, no. I found an old Jedi holocron a while ago. I've been using it to learn the basics, but that's it."
He lowered his gaze to the ground and gently caressed the back of his neck. Thinking about the origin of the lightsaber, it was as much of a mystery as his was. Ace always wondered if it belonged to their father, or maybe his mother.​
"The lightsaber, it was the only thing with me when I was dropped at the orphanage. No name, no message. Just... this."
Aether asked if the Jedi or Sith had gotten their 'claws' into him. The choice of words sounded like maybe he'd had some bad blood with either or both organizations. Acier's mind went to Valery Noble Valery Noble . He recalled Valery's warmth and kindness, she was his first step on to the path of the Force. Ace then thought of Aadihr Lidos Aadihr Lidos ' wisdom and patience, how he had taught him to sense echoes in the Force. And then, finally, Pisti Caleida Pisti Caleida , he remembered her fire and tenacity, remembering her willingness to spring into action when necessary.​
"I've met a few Jedi, yeah. They weren't so bad." he answered, sort of in their defense "But, no. I'm not with them... or the Sith. I just wanna find my mother. Or, find out who she was."
He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. Ace held his brother's gaze, trying to read him, really read him, but the man was a fortress. Composed. Controlled.
"Why are you looking for this... Phobis Device? What do you need it for?"
The question lingered, but Ace wasn't sure he wanted the answer. Aether hadn't given him a reason to doubt him. Not yet, at least. But the thought of that device, the kind of fear it could unleash… it stuck with him like a splinter under the skin. Something about it didn't sit right. Not just the power it held, but the possibility that his brother might actually use it.​
 
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SINNER'S WELL

Aether let out a low chuckle as Acier spoke mid-embrace, the sound warm and genuine.

“It’s not special treatment. It just comes with the blood.”

When he stepped back, the gratitude in Acier’s eyes was plain, even if the younger man didn’t say the words aloud. Aether didn’t need him to. He simply nodded, steady and silent, then turned to watch where his brother’s eyes lingered: the darkness of the Well behind them.

As he spoke of the Phobis Device, he studied Acier’s face closely. There was composure, yes, but beneath it? He caught the faint tension at the jaw, the flicker in his eyes. Acier was horrified, and rightfully so. But when the man gave a nod, it told Aether everything. He understood.

Then came the talk of the saber.

When Acier explained that he was self-taught, learning from a Jedi holocron, Aether’s nose wrinkled with theatrical distaste.

“Gross.” he said, lifting a hand.

With a subtle pull of the Force, the lightsaber lifted from Acier’s belt, floating smoothly into the air. It hovered before Aether’s eyes, slowly rotating as he examined its design. His gaze sharpened as he considered it.

“Our father favored saberstaffs and blades of red, orange, or white. I’ve seen them all. Up close, too many times.”

He reached forward, gently spinning the weapon with two fingers.

“This doesn’t match what I know of him. So if it was left with you... it might be a piece of her. Your mother.”

The saber drifted back toward Acier’s hand with a flick of Aether’s wrist, returning to its rightful place without ceremony.

When Acier offered his defense of the Jedi, Aether’s expression shifted. The corners of his mouth curled upward, but there was no joy in it. Only weariness.

“They’re not so bad, huh?”

He shook his head slowly, letting out a dry exhale.

“It’s good you’re not with them. Or the Sith. Our father walks the Dark Side and wears the title Darth, but he never served any Empire. Never pledged to a Dark Lord. He built his own path because he saw the same truth I’ve lived with all my life.”

His gaze met Acier’s directly, firm without being cruel.

“The Jedi and Sith have both spilled Mandalorian blood. Again and again. Empires rise and fall, but our people are always the ones they use, the ones they burn. So I won’t tell you how to live your life. That’s not my right. But if you’re dealing with Jedi or Sith? Sleep with one eye open. They’ll both betray you. One will just call it righteousness when they do.”

Then came the question. The one Acier had been holding.

Aether’s tone was clear, unflinching.

“I need the Phobis Device because one day, the Jedi or the Sith are going to come to Mandalore’s doorstep. Not with handshakes. With warships. And when that day comes, I want every advantage.”

He didn’t soften the words. He didn’t dress them in reassurance.

“I carry the weight of billions. I don’t get to pick the clean path. I take the one that keeps them alive. Even if it means walking into hell.”

His arms crossed loosely again, and his voice dropped just slightly.

“That’s what it means to be Iron.”

 

Location: Ryloth - Sinner's Well


Equipment:
Standard Outfit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

Acier raised a brow. That certainly wasn't the reaction he'd expected from Aether. Then, his lightsaber gone - not swiftly, but it gently disconnected from his belt and floated over to the Mand'alor.

His hand reached out instinctively, a flicker of panic tightening his chest. That lightsaber was all he had, the only thing left behind by people he never knew, never got to love. It wasn't just a weapon. It was his proof. His question. His anchor. But then, he lowered his arm to his side, expression unchanging. If Aether wanted to keep it, he would have.

Ace's eyes tracked his rotating lightsaber as Aether explained to him the type of weapon their father carried. The saberstaffs with many different colors, but none blue. His brother mentioned seeing their father's weapons 'up close too many times'. His mind wandered at the implications.

Regardless, Acier's lightsaber wasn't a match, nothing that their father would have wielded. Ace's mind then shifted to his mother, and Aether verbalized a similar speculation. Ace reached out to receive his lightsaber as it floated back to him, clipping it back to his belt.

Aether made his stance on Jedi clear, the Sith too. That comment about them 'getting their claws' into him came from something. A, long, complicated and ancient history between his ancestors and the two Force Orders. Aether confessed that he didn't want to influence his path, Ace respected that. Appreciated it even. But he took note of his brother's warning.

Maybe he was right, the few Jedi he met while kind and never showed him any harm. They were just individuals. The Jedi as an institution may very well be another entity entirely. And, if Aether's words were truth, Ace would indeed remain wary of them.

His brother finally explained why he wanted to recover the Phobis Device. It was insurance, a contingency. Aether believed it wasn't a matter of it, but when the Jedi and Sith wage war on Mandalore once again. Ace felt... confused. He wasn't stupid or naive, he understood the galaxy in a way some his age couldn't fathom. But this? Politics. It escaped him completely. So much so he felt the need to ask.

"But the Empire. Your Empire. Aren't you allied with the Alliance and the High Republic? Why would the Jedi come for you? Maybe I'm missing something, maybe I don't know what I'm talking about but... if you're all on the same side, shouldn't they want to protect Mandalore?"

Then he paused, another question refusing to leave his thoughts. Their father. It wasn't a pressing question, just curiosity. The type of curiosity that theatened to gnaw on you if you didn't get an answer though.

"You said father wore the title Darth, but didn't serve any Empire. He wasn't Sith?"

Aether Verd Aether Verd
 

U28oNJI.png

SINNER'S WELL, RYLOTH

Aether’s helm inclined ever so slightly, and the sound that followed was not the warm chuckle from before but something far more mirthless. It was the kind of humor that lacked joy, a sound born from experience rather than amusement.

“The High Republic is the closest thing to an ally the Empire has,” he began, his tone even, deliberate. “But it is not the kind of alliance you are picturing. Our relationship is built upon a retainer contract for mercenary services. That means we do not march to their wars out of ideology, and we do not take on their enemies for free. If they pay, we fight. If they do not, we stand aside. That is the nature of our agreement.”

He shifted slightly, the crimson of his armor catching the faint light as he continued. “The Galactic Alliance is much the same, though our connection there is thinner. We hold a neutrality agreement with them and a smaller retainer contract. I have respect for their Jedi Grandmaster, Valery Noble, and I hold the same for Grandmaster Sal-Soren of the High Republic. Both are capable, both have earned their positions, and both understand the value of dealing with Mandalore directly. But I am no fool. All it takes is one radical element rising within the Jedi for war to be at our doorstep again. All it takes is one politician with a grudge, one bill pushed through a senate chamber, and suddenly our people are once more fighting for our homes.”

Aether exhaled slowly, folding his arms in a motion that was almost thoughtful, yet carried the weight of the subject. “I do not enjoy holding this view. I have broken bread with Valery Noble. I want to trust her. I even want to reach the point where I can call her a comrade. But history is much too loud for me to ignore. I have seen too many turns of the wheel to believe the Light or the Dark will treat us as equals for long.”

The question about their father brought a faint smile to his lips, one touched by memory more than sentimentality. “The title of Darth is not given, Acier. It is taken. It is earned. It is a challenge to the stars themselves, a declaration that you wield the Dark Side and can best anything it throws at you. Our father did not kneel before or serve any Sith Empire. In truth, he founded the first Mandalorian Empire in our modern age, then went on to dominate a quarter of the known galaxy under the banner of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Being Sith is a matter of belief, a religion if you will, not a matter of political allegiance. You can walk the Dark without bowing to a Sith throne.”

He tilted his head slightly, as if measuring his brother’s reaction. “Does that make sense to you?”

 

Location: Ryloth - Sinner's Well


Equipment:
Standard Outfit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27
Acier stayed quiet as Aether spoke. Not out of confusion, but because he was listening. Really listening. Aether's words weren't wrapped in anger or bitterness, but they carried the weight of someone who had seen things... hard things. And Ace could hear all of it. Every sentence. Every clause. He didn't just hear them, he felt the truth behind them. The realism. The preparation. The scars.

As the Mandalorian explained the nature of their alliances with the High Republic and the Galactic Alliance, Ace slowly nodded. The idea of mercenary contracts and neutrality agreements wasn't lost on him, even if the politics themselves were. That part still eluded him, but the logic? The way Aether broke it down? It all made sense.

He thought of Valery Noble again when Aether spoke her name, his first true guide into the Force. Her calm presence, her compassion. The way she helped him open himself to something greater. He remembered her warmth and strength both.

And still, Aether wasn't wrong. Ace didn't like it, but that didn't make any of what he said false. He knew people, he was good at reading them, good at sensing what they weren't saying. And Aether wasn't spinning tales out of paranoia. He was preparing for when things went wrong, not if. That survival instinct, that constant edge - Ace understood it all too well. It was a mindset born from never being able to let your guard down.

By the time Aether finished speaking about their father, about the title Darth being claimed, not given. Ace's brows were drawn slightly, but not in confusion. He was processing it all, quietly. The scale of who their father was. What he'd done. The reach of his legacy, the absence of his presence.

He met Aether's gaze when the question was posed to him. "Yeah, it does." Ace said with a soft breath "I don't like it, but I get it."

Then, he paused. His eyes drifted back to the tunnel where the Phobis Device waited.

"I know what it's like to be in this position. To always expect the worst, always needing to be ready to hit back..." he said quietly "But... I hope you never have to use that thing."

Aether Verd Aether Verd
 

U28oNJI.png

SINNER'S WELL, RYLOTH

For a time there was only silence between them. Not the kind born of tension, but the rarest kind of quiet that came when two men found themselves speaking the same truth. Acier’s words carried no accusation, no distrust, only the echo of something Aether had long carried within himself. He too hoped the day would never come. He too wanted the galaxy spared from what the Phobis Device could unleash.

At last he let out a breath, the sound more weary than anything else. “I hope that day never comes,” he admitted, voice low but steady. “I hope I can see to Mandalore’s peace without ever needing to open that chamber or expose the galaxy to the horrors of the Force. That is what I want more than anything.” His gaze shifted toward the tunnel where the device waited, silent and dormant. His arms folded once more, a gloved hand rapping lightly against his forearm as his thoughts worked themselves out.

When his eyes returned to his younger brother, they carried a different clarity. “But there is something far more important to do today,” he said, the words carrying more warmth than any mention of the device. “Seeing you here, learning the path you’ve carved for yourself…it has changed my mind. If the worst should come, I will return to Ryloth and claim the device. Until then, it can sleep.” He stepped forward, closing the space between them, and laid a firm hand upon Acier’s shoulder.

“What matters now is you,” Aether continued. “You have been absent from your family for a lifetime, and I do not want that absence to stretch another day. So why don’t we leave this fortress behind us, at least for a while? Let us walk under the open sky and begin to know one another as brothers should.”

 

Location: Ryloth - Sinner's Well


Equipment:
Standard Outfit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

For a long moment, Ace didn't move. He just looked up at the armored figure standing before him. Not the Mand'alor, not the warlord with contingency plans and ancient weapons, but the man who'd just told him he mattered more than any of it. Aether's hand was firm on his shoulder, his words still hanging in the air.​
"What matters now is you."
He didn't expect it to hit as hard as it did. Ace dropped his eyes for a moment, clenching his jaw. He wasn't good at stuff like this, he had no idea what to do with that kind of care. He'd spent most of his life assuming he was nobody's priority. But Aether… he meant it.​
All the talk of Jedi, Sith, alliances hanging by threads, it started to more sense now too. Not just the politics of it all, but in individuals. How fragile trust really was.​
Ace thought of Valery, of what she'd shown him. Of Aadihr and Pisti. They weren't monsters. But Aether's words: "All it takes is one politician with a grudge" it echoed in the back of his mind. Maybe it wasn't about blaming anyone. Maybe it was about preparing for what history said would come.​
His gaze lifted again.​
"Alright." he said, voice quiet but solid. "Let's get some air."




hIB90xA.png
Location: Mandalore - Ronion



Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27 | Tic

It had been months since that moment in the fortress. Since Aether told him the Phobis Device would sleep. Since he said that Ace was the one that mattered.​
Since then, Ace had trained under Pisti, confronted Tessk on Bonadan, and killed him in a moment of rage he couldn't forget. Then Coruscant fell, the Empire rose, and when Valery Noble reached out with a cause worth fighting for, he didn't hesitate. He joined the Hidden Path. So much had changed, and now Aether had reclaimed Mandalore.​
Not that long ago, Acier walked the roots of Ronion. Back when it was raw and wounded, its edges still whispering with the Dark Side's chill. He remembered kneeling in that circle of Mandalorians, hands deep in broken earth and planting veshok saplings as prayers. And for a brief moment, the image of Sibylla flashed in his mind, a faint smile tugging at his lips.​
Now the city stirred with new life. Terraformers hummed, scaffolding crept along half-built homes, and the scent of solder and soil filled the air. Ronion was rising again. Aether and the others had done great work here.​
Ace had come to visit his brother and see how things were coming along.​


 
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U28oNJI.png

RONION, MANDALORE

The northern half of Mandalore lived again. For the first time in years Aether allowed himself to breathe without the constant press of war. The Empire was steady, its borders secure, and the forge fires of Mandalore burned brighter than they had in generations. For once, he could take a moment for himself. Or rather, a moment for him and his brother.

The streets of Ronion carried the rhythm of renewal. Craftsmen shouted to one another from scaffolds, the hum of machines filled the air, and children darted between half-built walls as if the city had always been theirs. Aether walked among them with the same stride he carried into battle, his presence met with salutes, nods, and murmurs of Mand’alor on every corner. Yet when he found the familiar face ahead, his pace quickened and his tone softened.

“Vod.” The word left him warm as he draped an arm over Acier’s shoulders, pulling him close in an embrace that was brief but unyielding. “I am glad you came.” His helm turned slightly, voice carrying the edge of sincerity reserved only for family.

When he released him, Aether stretched his arms skyward as though shaking off the mantle of Mand’alor for just a breath. The sun caught on the plates of his armor as he lowered them again, his visor locking on his brother with a question that was both casual and careful.

“So tell me, Ace. What is new in your world? Where have you been since we spoke on Roon?”

 

hIB90xA.png
Location: Mandalore - Ronion



Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27 | Tic
Ace leaned into the brief embrace, wordless but solid. Something in him was still surprised by how easily it came now. When Aether let go, he rolled his shoulders once, as if shaking off the weight of whatever he'd been carrying before.

"Glad to be here." He retorted. "The work you're doing here, Aether. It's something, seriously."

It was true, the initial shock and awe of having your older brother be ruler of the Mandalorian Empire wore off a while ago. But, the admiration he held for Aether always remained. It wasn't just the political power he held, or even his skill as a warrior. It was this. Moments like Ronion. Aether's natural ability as a leader - how he was able to unify, reclaim and rebuild. It was something that Ace wondered if he had within him to.

Aether's follow-up question drew a faint smirk that ghosted his lips.


"Busy." He answered bluntly "Running missions with the Path, y'know. Sabotage runs, extractions, escorting folks out before the Empire shows up."

His gaze tracked the scaffolded skyline, the hum of cranes and forge-welders filling the air. Ace's expression turned solemn, the weight of things returning to him. Mind flashing to Tessk's body, him giving into anger, the prophecy regarding his destiny. All of it. He wanted to tell Aether, but didn't he have a lot of problems already?

Which reminded him, Ace's gaze flickered to Aether. He folded his arms and his brow rose.

"…But hey." He said, with a short breath through his nose "That's enough about me." He gave a nod toward Aether. "What about you? What's life like at the top? Any news on the Diarchy?"

At Ace's side, Tic let out a soft chirp that sounded like something between curiosity and caution. The little droid tilted his head just enough to catch Aether in his flickering photoreceptor, as if he too was waiting for the answer... or maybe just mirroring the quiet shift in Ace's mood. Either way, he stayed close, one metal foot tapping absently against the ground.

Aether Verd Aether Verd
 

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