Faction Cinders and Stars [ ME ]

[Aether Verd]

MANDALORE
"Even Ashes Remember the Fire."​

The wind whispered through the ashgrass.

It wasn’t the howl of battle or the roar of jetpacks overhead. Just the low, mournful hush of Mandalore at rest. The land here still bore scars—jagged black stone, cooled magma veins like old arteries across the soil. And in the heart of it, where once a proud house had stood, there was only space.

But not silence.

Aether Verd stood at the edge of the firelight, bottle of black ale in hand, the flames painting his beskar in amber. The bonfire cracked and danced in a shallow pit where the old forge once lay. Around it, logs had been arranged in a loose circle, makeshift and familiar. Not a war council. Not a strategy table.

Just a hearth.

He took a swig, the ale bitter and strong, grounding him as much as the dirt beneath his boots. Above, the stars shimmered bright against the dark—clearer than he'd seen in years. No city lights, no smoke, no skyward flak. Just the open heavens and the steady breath of Mandalore itself.

He exhaled slowly, then glanced to the logs where his siblings would soon gather. No summons, no commands. Only an invitation. To be Verd again. To remember.

To breathe.

“Not here to plan,” he said aloud, more to the fire than anything. “Not tonight.”

The bottle hung loosely in his hand as he looked up again, voice quiet.

“We’ve bled. We’ve lost. We’ve adapted. But this place…” His eyes traced the blackened ridge beyond. “This place still remembers us. And maybe it’s time we remember it too.”

Klavatora Verd , Ze'bast Verd , Aselia Verd , Nephthys Nardithi-Verd , Kyrida Verd

 

[Kyrida Verd]

The embers had already found her. She sat near the far side of the fire, helmet resting on her knee, ale already half-drained in her gloved hand. Her silhouette blended with the smoke and dusk — a statue of beskar and silence. She had not spoken since arriving.

She didn't need to.

When Aether's voice broke the night, she listened without lifting her head. But her eyes were on him — sharp, unwavering, fierce in their devotion. No warrior's salute. No proud declarations. Only a quiet reverence for the man who had called them here not as soldiers, but as blood.

When he finished, she rose to her feet. The cup was still in her hand, still cool but losing its froth. She stepped forward slowly, her gaze never leaving his. A moment lingered as she breathed in. Then, with her voice low — steady and hoarse from disuse — she raised the cup just high enough for the fire to catch its rim.

"To remembering what anchors us."

A brief glance to the scorched soil beneath her boots.

"And forgetting what made us doubt it."

She drank deep, then sank back down beside the flame.

She said nothing more for now.

Klavatora Verd Ze'bast Verd Aselia Verd Nephthys Nardithi-Verd Aether Verd​

 

[Aselia Verd]

​

Aselia came in from the dark.

The sound of her boots was softened by the ashgrass, but the pull of her presence was anything but subtle. The firelight caught the curve of her silhouette first tall, armored, steady. Not hurried. Not hesitant. Just… present. Like someone returning not to a battlefield or a bastion, but to something deeper. Older. The kind of memory you didn't mean to carry, but couldn't set down.

Her eyes swept the circle, noting who had already come. Aether, standing by the fire, his voice still hanging in the air like smoke. Kyrida, seated near the flame with a cup in hand, her words still echoing in Aselia's ears: "To remembering what anchors us."

She didn't interrupt. But she wondered if her siblings knew how her heart was anchored here.

Instead, she came to stand behind the outermost log, her gaze distant, pinned somewhere past the flames and the forge-scars and the cooling stone. Her voice came low not for show, not for ceremony. Silently she lifted her helmet off her head, red locks of hair falling free from their confines. She placed the helmet gently on the log in front of her.

"I didn't think I'd ever walk this ground again."

She let the words settle like dust.

"I wasn't born Verd. Obviously.." there was a wry myrth to her voice but it did not conceal the sadness that hid behind her eyes. "The ridges west of here those were Viszla lands when I was a child. Before Clan turned against kin.. That was my home."

Her hand came to rest lightly on the hilt at her side not as threat, but as grounding.

"I remember running across stone. I remember the sound of forges not in chorus, but scattered across the basin, like beacons trying not to go out. My father's hands were always black with soot, my mother's voice sharp as shrapnel. I remember thinking Mandalore would always be strong."

Her gaze dropped to the fire. The flicker caught in her eyes.

"And then the strong turned on each other."

"I survived the purge because I ran. Hid. Learned how to disappear. There's not a day that goes by I don't think about what I left behind to do it."

She looked to Aether now direct, clear.

"I may not be Verd by blood, but in all the ways that matter I stand as one. By the mercy of our father on a scared little girl."

​

TAG: Aether Verd Klavatora Verd Kyrida Verd Nephthys Nardithi-Verd

 

[Nephthys Nardithi-Verd]

'Oh my God! What is this sorry moping about?' Nephthys did not let reading the room deter her from her usual antics; that being to never let the sight of Aether Verd pass-by without an amusing engagement, to herself.

She had been born to Isley Verd (unknowingly until far later in his evolution) and a Nightsister. Her Mother was slain by the Ashland Crusade to save her from the filth that was her own soul. Their dogma and discipline was beaten into her spirit until she burned down the whole youth detention center...old news, but her history is not yet known by anyone but Aether to this day.

Her thing between her and her brother, what is it?

She approached in shadow and then ran straight for him. Hunched down, she thrust her shoulder into his abdomen, hoping to knock him backwards upon his arse.

Most of the time though...the physics of trajectory have a different result in store for her, when challenging his experience in grappling...




Klavatora Verd | Kyrida Verd | Aselia Verd | Ze'bast Verd

 

[Klavatora Verd]

Klavatora would also file in. Thoughts of the past weighed heavily on her mind. Could have just been the recent flight training. It also could have simply been the joining of her siblings together. It was hard to recall a meeting like this. One wear business wasn’t the ideal point. To her the vibe was somber. Felt weird to be on this planet as she was born offworld. Just happened to be that way. Was also a bit strange as she wasn’t force sensitive. Something that she was accustomed to. Even when they tested all for those that were, she didn’t pass the test. Made her feel a bit closer to her distant ancestors than her own parents.

She would join her kin around the flame. Plopping herself on the ground next to Aselia. She was closer to her than her other siblings emotionally. This was a perfect time to get to know them more intimately. Klavatora would cross her legs and relax. The words of the others she would take in, but she wouldn’t speak. It was more than enough to just be here among her people. Her helmet was removed and placed in her lap. Her brownish red hair was kept in a ponytail. Closing her eyes she would allow the flickers of flames dance across her eyelids as a sense of calm came over her. They opened again as she raised a canteen in toast. A brief touch of the open container to her lips before she rested it to her side.

Tag: Aether Verd / Kyrida Verd / Aselia Verd / Nephthys Nardithi-Verd

 

[Ze'bast Verd]

TAG: Aether Verd / Kyrida Verd / Aselia Verd / Nephthys Nardithi-Verd / Klavatora Verd

Ze’bast arrived in silence, just behind Klavatora, and lowered himself onto the log beside Aether. His helmet came off slowly, placed on the log as if it carried more weight than mere metal. The lines beneath his eyes were not just from exhaustion—they were etched from days of duty that blurred together, one demand after another, without pause.

“To remember what anchors us.”

He raised the cup in ritual, the gesture more reflex than celebration, and took a slow sip. The taste was familiar, grounding. His eyes drifted from face to face, pausing on those he barely knew. Even here, among kin, a part of him remained coiled—watchful. He didn’t know how to be at ease. He didn’t remember when he last tried.

The words Aselia spoke stirred something distant in him. Recognition. Regret. Before he could embrace their meaning, one of his siblings attempted to forge a beskar spear, aimed at Aether in jest or testing, he couldn’t be sure. His body tensed, halfway to rising, but he forced himself still. He inhaled deeply, like a man trying to recall what peace is supposed to feel like. There was nothing he needed to do but be present. And yet, it felt like the hardest thing of all.

“Aselia… you’ll always be one of us. Woven into the marrow of this empire we’re trying to build.”

He hesitated, the next words heavier.

“There was a time I ran from our father’s shadow, thinking I’d find clarity on my own. Maybe if I hadn’t, we’d have brought our people together long before now. But I needed that distance, to lose myself, to understand what mattered. I don’t know if I found all the answers, but… at least it brought me back here. To all of you. And that, I can live with.”

​

 

[Talohn Atar]

Footsteps in the darkness signaled the arrival of yet another. The familiar features of Talohn Atar were revealed as he stepped within the light produced by the hearth. Those orange eyes, currently dilated thin thanks to the fire before him, scan those who have surrounded the hearth, a content grin forming on his face. He was dressed simply. Brown trousers with leather boots, a grey shirt, and that simple brown bomber jacket he had worn to the court room. He takes the jacket off as he reaches one of the sitting logs, placing it down before he sits atop it. Massive incisors are visible as he yawns, reaching his arms up in a stretch. "Feels good to huddle in front of a camp fire by choice." He digs about in his satchel, pulling out what seems to be a bag of meatbuns and a collapsible stick. After extending the stick, he skewers three meat buns on it and begins holding it up over the fire. His eyes drift between them all, warm grin forming again. "It's good to be back amongst family again. Though." He uses the skewer to point at Kyrid. Ze'bast, Klavatora and finally Nephthys, who he follows with the stick as she passes, not even bothering to warn Aether as she tackles him. "I've yet to be introduced to any of you. Let's amend that, eh? Name's Talohn. Brother of Metus. Aether here's uncle." His eye twitches slightly as he has to make a statement pointing to his age. "Technically great uncle."

He slowly turns the skewer in his grasp to warm the meat buns evenly. "Made these myself. Ground bantha, chives, some seasoning. I brought plenty for the table. Some extra skewers too." He opens the satchel sitting on the log beside him to reveal a plastic bag full of more meat buns, and a cluster of the metal skewers tied together with a rubber band. He grins widely. "Help yourselves."

Aselia Verd Aether Verd Ze'bast Verd Klavatora Verd Nephthys Nardithi-Verd Kyrida Verd

 

[Zlova Rue]

"Nephew," a voice corrected from the shadows before a specter of a figure was faintly illumined by the fire. "Or grandnephew."

As the five-ten Twi'lek drew closer, her figure and that of the black cropped jacket and shirt with full-length pants she wore grew more distinct. As did the ferocity of her golden eyes as they reflected the fire's light. "You're the Uncle, Old Man." Zlova stopped at the edge where her full visage and color could be seen, hand on one hip and a smirk confidently perched on her lips.

Zlova had considered actually wearing a beskar'gam, but with Talohn arriving in his comfortable attire she opted to do the same. Well, a little less comfortable for her. Even this much had an effect on agility -- the slightest advantage or disadvantage could spell death. It might not hurt for these Mandalorians to meet her before they saw her in beskar as well. Unless she wore a helmet her tattoos would likely given her heritage away to a Mandalorian educated in the ways of Sith. Some wouldn't take well to a Sith wearing beskar'gam. To put it mildly.

"And I'm Zlova Rue. That Cat's mine." A grin split across her face. "Sometimes I let him think I'm his." Her eyes shifted to the dark figure wreathed by the fire ahead of him that was Talohn. "Sometimes." The age old humor of everything one's mate belonged to her, and everything that belonged to her belonged to her; everything else was charity.

Long as no one jumped her, she step over a log to claim a seat beside Talohn. She'd give his family the first grab at his offering. Zlova didn't need to establish boundaries with these people. They were his family. She could get more of his cooking back home any time.

"Home, huh?" Her gaze slowly panned over all those present. "Family. Never had either. You feel a longing and a pain I can't even imagine. That's what makes Sith so good at being cruel. My advice? Decide where your home is, what your home means, and why this is your home, and never let go. Because everything else in this galaxy is going to try and tear you away from it, and turn you into a monster. You have each other; use it."

Aselia Verd | Aether Verd | Ze'bast Verd | Klavatora Verd | Nephthys Nardithi-Verd | Kyrida Verd​

 

[Kyrida Verd]

Later, as stories spilled and names were given, Kyrida did not interject. Not when Aselia remembered the sound of scattered forges. Not when Nephthys crashed chaos into the circle. Not even when Talohn offered meatbuns or Zlova spoke of monsters and homes.

But when the fire was quieter again, when only the crackle remained between shifting conversation, she reached to her belt and unfastened a small, silken cord — short, tight-woven, dark at the root and pale at the end.

Her old Padawan braid. She did not hesitate. She stood and stepped toward the fire, eyes fixed on Aether. In her palm, the braid rested like a relic. "For the one who taught me where strength truly lives."

She tossed it into the flame. It hissed and curled into smoke. "For my Manda’lor."

She sat again.

And when Zlova finished her warning — the one about monsters, about the galaxy pulling, twisting, devouring — Kyrida finally spoke once more, her voice quiet but edged with iron. "Then I hope the galaxy keeps trying."

She looked across the fire at Zlova now. "Because it will break itself long before it tears me from this."

Her gaze flicked to Aether. To the fire. To the crest etched in scorched stone behind them all.

Then silence again.

Aether Verd Zlova Rue Talohn Atar Ze'bast Verd Klavatora Verd Nephthys Nardithi-Verd Aselia Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

MANDALORE
"In the end, we'll always have each other. And Talohn. Mostly Talohn."​

The hit came out of nowhere.

One second, Aether stood at the edge of memory, bottle in hand and voice steeped in grief. The next, he was flat on his back in the dirt, looking up at the sky through smoke and stars and a tangle of beskar limbs.

It took him a heartbeat to register what had happened. Another to let go of the instinct to retaliate. And then—

He laughed.

Loud and sudden, the sound burst from his chest like it hadn’t been let out in years—because it hadn’t. Not since the Planeshift. Not since the world broke and responsibility wrapped around his shoulders like chainmail. But now? Now there was Nephthys on top of him, smug and wild-eyed, and every burden on his back seemed to roll off into the firelight.

“Damn it, Neph,” he wheezed, dragging her into a tight, crushing hug as his laughter finally slowed. “You nearly knocked the Mando outta me.”

He held her a second longer than he needed to, then rose with a grunt and a clank of armor. Dirt clung to the back of his cloak, but he made no move to brush it off. Instead, he returned to his place at the fire—lighter now.

Just in time for Kyrida.

He watched her move with purpose, the fire reflecting in her eyes as she cast her past into the flame. The old braid curled and smoked and vanished. And with it, something old and heavy was released.

He didn’t speak right away. Just leaned in, and gently placed a gloved hand on her head.

“Strength lives in you, Kyrida. Not because of where you came from. But because of where you chose to stand.” A pause. His voice softened. “You are appreciated. You are loved.”

He let the moment rest before turning toward Aselia, a small smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Aselia, I don’t care what the records say—you're blood.” He cocked his head, faux-serious. “Though, let’s be honest. Are we sure you’re adopted? You know Father got around in his day.”

The grin broke through before he could even finish the sentence.

Then came Ze’bast, steady and worn. Aether met his eyes when he spoke of their father’s shadow, of finding clarity by stepping away.

“That shadow stretches long,” Aether said, his voice warm. “And you’re not the only one who ran from it.”

He glanced into the fire.

“You remember Jonah?” The name of their brother landed gently, not sharply. “Where I followed Father, Jonah followed Mother. Heard the Dark Side when it whispered. Took a different path.” He looked around the fire now, voice clear. “But that’s what it means to be family. No matter what path we take, we come back here. To this.”

His eyes returned to Ze’bast, a smirk rising.

“Only shadow you stand in now is mine when it comes to holding liquor.”

He then nudged Klavatora with an elbow, playful and teasing.

And then—

His head turned. His grin widened.

“Uncle.”

The word was a flare of boyish joy in his voice. He stood again, gesturing toward Talohn with theatrical reverence.

“This is the man who taught me how to pick locks. Taught me real freedom, before I even knew what chains were.”

He let the room breathe on that before chuckling again. “Father was so mad. Chased me around the compound for half an hour with a hydrospanner.”

Then he looked to Zlova.

His gaze softened, but the grin widened.

“As Mand'alor, I hereby declare you...Auntie.”

He let the word hang, then gestured broadly toward the circle of gathered kin.

“We're all your problem now. And our birthdays are coming up.”

With that, he dropped back into his seat, raising his cup to take a hearty swig. Finally, Aether remembered how to laugh.

Zlova Rue , Talohn Atar , Ze'bast Verd , Klavatora Verd , Nephthys Nardithi-Verd , Kyrida Verd