Faction Engineering and Maintenance Bays:

[Diarch Rellik]

He didn't need to look up to know Laphisto had just clamped down on the room. That low voice which was so measured and final. In a way, Rellik actually enjoyed listening to Laphisto just speak.

Rellik's smirk flickered as he accepted the magnetic stabilizer. The unspoken rhythm of war-forged friendship had already played out between them more times than either would admit aloud. He tilted the tool, adjusted its resonance, and clicked it into place inside Kyr'amor's open chassis.

"Sometimes the companionship of a hatchling can change ones perspective. It is clear to me Vraen adores you. It is time for me to build the same relationship with Kyr'amor." His words were jovial at first but came to a solemn understanding as they ended. These were not mere soul-less machines of war. Something the Diarch had come to understand now. Regretfully to late.

His gaze found Iandre again. Her response to his question was cautious. He recognized that kind of phrasing. a long meditation. Sounded like when someone wasn't ready to tell the full story. He felt no need to press her on it at all. Especially not here in front of everyone.

"I met Laphisto at his induction into the High Council," he answered plainly, but with weight. He figured that station would require him to at least know the man but it did not. "My brother Reign did the groundwork. Fought beside him. Trusted him. And I trusted my brother." He gave a thoughtful pause. "Since then… war. Blood. Arguments. One very stupid night on Moltok." He smirked over at Laphisto. Hiding his want to laugh and nudge the man.

Replying back to Iandre through the force he gave a calm and sweet sounding. Thank you.

He gave the stabilizer a final twist, the faint hum of calibration ringing true. Then looked at Xian, one brow raised. Awaiting for his apprentices begrudging reply.

mooney Iandre Athlea Xian Xiao Laphisto

 

[Xian Xiao]

Observing the exchange between Laphisto and her master gave her some confidence in being here. When he asked how they had all met Laphisto, she didn't want to answer. It was a little embarrassing. She wasn't ready and was quiet while Iandre gave her answer. When the question was turned on him, she looked at him as if she wanted him to go before she did. He took the hint and answered.

Iandre answered as well, but she felt a lot of information was kept out. When they had met, she had ignored her, and this would be the first time they'd spoken.

"I'm Xian Xiao and an apprentice to your boyfriend."

Emphasising the last word, she wasn't sure how she should feel about this development. Happy? Jealous? Or something else entirely. Turning her attention to the center of the question, she looked at him for a moment before glancing at the inert robot on the table. Not meeting the eyes of anybody, she lost all the form of confidence she had gained earlier. With a very soft tone, she started speaking.

"I'm sorry for being such a brat to you, Laphisto. You haven't done anything to me to deserve the treatment."

Her black eyes finally looked at him, and she stood up straight.

"What can I do to help you get this friend functional again?"

Diarch Rellik Iandre Athlea Laphisto mooney

 

[mooney]

Mooney's glowing eyes narrowed as she looked down at Laphisto , confusion flickering across her masked face. People? Droids? None of them were food. That realization alone made her tail flick in visible frustration—especially the smallest one Xian Xiao , She looked the most delicious. But if Laphisto had said they were not to be eaten, then so be it.


Still… perhaps something tastier awaited elsewhere, She just needed to find it.


Her gaze shifted, scanning the unfamiliar faces around her. Names drifted around —useless sounds for now, but she remembered them, they seem important. They were asking questions. Why? What reason?


She tilted her head, voice low and distant,
"I was found… on my planet," she said at last, eyes lingering on Laphisto. "He did not run. And I was unable to take him out so I followed him. My name is Mooney.”


Diarch Rellik Iandre Athlea Laphisto Xian Xiao

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto returned from Kiev'ara with Cora reluctantly in tow. He'd talked the troublemaker into going part penance, part lesson and he hoped whatever the Force-dead world had taught her would stick. She came back with more than stories: a handful treasures from the planet came with her. parts he had said woudl fit into a new lightsaber. Besides, he thought with a dry curl of humor, it would be good to kill three mynocks with one shot: temper Cora, steady Mooney, and finally let Aknoby scratch at something he'd wanted for months.

reign's own apprentice seemed interested when the idea was mentiond so he had even brought the man along. he only fought with them once but they seemed to be a respectable warrior. and he would be lying if he didnt say he was curious what sort of weapon they would craft. he had also sent an open invite to his own aprentice if she so desired

Aknoby had been restless pacing, testing the edge of patience and of rules itching for a saber of his own. Mooney, by contrast, was the one adapting. The isolation that once looped like a second skin around her had thinned; she moved quieter now, learning the cadence of the Order and how to let others talk first. She hadn't built a saber before. This would be new for her. Laphisto decided she was ready.

They walked into the fabrication wing together. The place smelled of hot metal, oil, and the sharp clean taste of ozone where welders bit at small things. Machinery hummed in the distance; the constant percussion of presses and grinders made the space feel like a living engine. Nearly every bench had hands bent over it armorers, smiths, apprentices except one bay, which sat empty as if cleared for them alone.

The bay itself was utilitarian in the way of things built to last: a long conveyor track, a holocomputer in the corner for pulling up mold patterns and tolerances, racks of labeled jigs, housings, spindles, and precision tools. On the opposite side, crates held raw ingots and polished cores, each tagged with a serial and a field-use rating. The biggest, loudest thing in the room was the furnace an engineered maw of refractory plating and tempered glass that glowed like heartfire. It was where ore surrendered to purpose.

Laphisto let them take it in before he spoke. When he did, his voice carried the weight of habit and instruction. "This is where you make something that answers only to you," he said. "Not a mass-issue blade, not a quick replacement. Every part you smelt, shape, and fit will carry your decisions. It will be a tool and a record." He tapped the holocomputer; a lattice of schematics unfolded in pale light. "You will forge the housing, set the focusing crystal, and bind the conduits. Each of you will leave this place with a weapon that reflects who you are. This is your beginning make it mean something."

He left the rest unsaid: that a saber could excise doubt, or amplify it; that some blades were made for ceremony, others for survival. The furnace hummed like an answered web. Around them the shop kept working orders and war machines and quiet lives being welded into something else while three apprentices stood at the threshold of making their own history.


mooney Aknoby Cora Gavin Vel Iandre Athlea

 

[Gavin Vel]

Gavin Vel stepped into the cleared bay with a grunt, shoulders rolling as if he were about to square up for a fight instead of sit down at a bench. His size made the workspace look small, the table dwarfed beneath the weight of his presence. He eyed the schematics dancing in pale light and then glanced toward Laphisto and the others.

“So this is it,” he muttered, reaching for a housing from the rack and holding it up like a trophy. His lips tugged into a smirk as his gaze flicked toward the others. “Careful not to get lost in all the wires and crystals. Would be a shame to burn your fingers before you ever swing the blade.”

The bravado in his tone was deliberate, a mask thrown over the gnawing uncertainty pressing at the back of his skull. He set the housing down and began pulling pieces from the bins: a focusing lens, a pair of conduits, a power cell he wasn’t entirely sure matched the right tolerance. He laid them out with the confidence of a man who’d fought a hundred battles, though each movement was slowed by the need to recall details half-forgotten.

He remembered another chamber, another forge. Reign’s voice, calm and sharp all at once, guiding his clumsy hands through the same steps. Gavin had nearly ruined it then, too impatient, too eager to force parts together rather than let them fit as they were meant to. He could still hear Reign telling him that a saber was more than a tool, that it was proof of control as much as strength.

“Suppose that’s why he shoved me into this circus,” Gavin said under his breath, though loud enough for Laphisto to hear. He slotted the lens into the housing with surprising care for hands that usually broke things instead of fixing them. “To see if I’d learned anything besides how to break skulls.” His smirk widened as he looked up at the others. “Don’t worry. I’ll have mine lit before any of you finish arguing over which crystal looks prettiest.”

He reached for another component, settling it into place, the furnace’s glow washing over his scarred features. To the others he looked self-assured, confident in his work, but in truth every part he touched made him question if he remembered enough, if he could actually finish what he started.

Still, his hands kept moving, his words dripping with bravado, because admitting the doubt was far more dangerous than the act of hiding it.

 

[Aknoby]

Aknoby is very anxious. He looks at the kyber crystal in his hand, which has turned red and orange, but at the same time he is thinking about the other crystals that Laphisto had told him about before.

"So a dual-phase lightsaber can have more than one crystal, can I use my kyber with one of each of those crystals you told me about?"

He says, looking at Laphisto, not ignoring the others but now very curious. He wasn't wearing anything military, he was wearing his most common clothes, a T-shirt, vest, pants, and boots.

"Hmmm... we have access to that type of guard I asked you for, Dad..."

He blushes at his mental slip.

"Ahem... Laphisto."

He speaks quickly and hurriedly, trying to cover it up and looking down.


Laphisto Iandre Athlea Gavin Vel mooney Cora

 

[mooney]

Moony stepped into the center of the room, her eyes scanning the surroundings as she listened to Laphisto speak. Her attention, however, was quickly drawn elsewhere toward the scattered scraps, polished ingots, and various metals laid out before her. Each one shimmered with its own allure, looking more appetizing than the last. She licked her lips slightly, hunger stirring at the sight of so many "delicacies."

But as Laphisto explained the task crafting a weapon Moony's expression shifted. Doubt crept in.

A weapon? She had never used one. Never needed one. Her survival came from instinct, claws, and sheer will. Why would she need a tool when her body had always been enough?

She furrowed her brow, murmuring aloud, "What use is a weapon to someone who's never wielded one? How is it of value to me?"

Without waiting for an answer, she stepped forward, reaching for one of the ingots. She brought it to her mouth and took a small bite, testing the texture like one might taste raw meat. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Is it not better to consume it to strengthen the body than to forge some small object that can be shattered easily?"

She turned toward Laphisto and the others, her gaze steady, not defiant but genuinely questioning.

 

[Cora]

As Cora gently lay both her sabers on the workbench alongside the bits and pieces she's acquired on her trip with Laphisto, she took a moment to think things over. Her old master's lightsaber was a constant reminder of the past that kept haunting her. A past she no longer felt the need to dwell on. Drawing in a deep breath, she started to disassemble the two lightsabers before her. It was time to let go.

The chaos that the other's in the group were causing was distracting to say the least. Gavin's brutish egotistical remarks toward the group made her eye roll to the back of her head. An eyebrow raised when she heard Aknoby slip and call the High Commander something other than his name or title. And Mooney was... Eating? The materials. She shook her head, returning her focus to the task at hand.

Her hands worked swiftly to pull apart her own lightsaber, then she reached for her old master's one. Hesitation. She could feel Laphisto's gaze linger on her as she paused. Hands trembling, she closed her eye and held her breath, pulling her hands into tight fists to rest them on the bench for a moment. Then she bit her tongue and picked the hilt up in her hand, delicately twisting the components to separate them from each other in preparation to assemble her new weapon.

Laphisto Aknoby Gavin Vel mooney

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Luckily, Iandre wasn't finishing her exercise routine when a message reached her to meet in the Engineering area. She was off duty and wearing a grey t-shirt and pants. It was a color theme that matched her, and she liked how the neutral color made her look and feel. Shrugging on a jacket, she knew it could get chilly, and she walked to where they were meeting.

She walked in as her master began explaining what they were doing there that day. Her hand strayed to her dueling lightsaber on her hip that was nearly 1000 years old, and she lifted an eyebrow. Then she realised maybe she should make a change. When she was growing up in the Temple, she had wanted to be a Guardian. That wasn't an option now, but she could still learn how to wield the double blade she craved back then.

"I've made one lightsaber already. I can make another."

Confidently walking over to one of the stations, she selected the diagram of what she wanted. Waiting while the ingots were given to her, this was going to be different from what it had been in her day.

"Challenge accepted, sir. However, selecting pieces that are already made won't make your unit any stronger. Be like me, and make it from scratch."

She silently hoped he wasn't going to ignite his saber before anybody else. There was a ceremony that should be done before that happened, but she didn't say anything. Glancing at Aknoby when he asked his question, she blinked at his stumble.

Did he just call Laphisto his dad? Was it something official? Did she have an adopted little brother? These questions would have to wait for answers. Turning her attention to Mooney when she asked her own, she waited to see if anybody else would answer.

When nobody did, she shook her head and looked at Mooney.

"When your weapon shatters, you can eat it then. Mine is very old, though, and never shattered. It's also seen quite a few battles, including one against Laphisto.

"You can also learn how to use it. That takes time and practice, and I'll help you if you want."

Cora mooney Aknoby Gavin Vel Laphisto

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto raised a brow at Aknoby's slip but chose not to address it. The boy's embarrassment spoke for itself. Instead, he turned his attention toward Mooney, reaching out to pluck the ingot of Kov'dra gently from her grasp before she could take another bite. He set it down on the workbench with a quiet clink, the sound sharp in the rhythmic hum of the forges.

"Each of you already carry weapons," he said, his tone even but edged with meaning. "Blades issued. Blades inherited. Tools of war, yes but not of self. Those sabers are not a part of you. They do not carry your breath, nor bleed when you do."

He swept a hand across the benches the metal, the molds, the scattered components catching the light of the furnace. "What you make here will not be an after-market toy, nor a collection of pre-cut fittings cobbled together from someone else's design. This is not plug-and-play engineering. Here, you will forge something that reflects every fiber of what you are."

He let the words hang, the firelight playing against the steel contours of his armor. "When you smelt that ore, when you fit the conduits and lay the crystal at the heart of your weapon you are binding your essence into it. Your will. Your choices. Your history. The Force will flow through the metal as it does through you, and it will remember."

His gaze swept across them mooney , Aknoby , Cora , Gavin Vel , and Iandre Athlea .each standing before the anvil of their own becoming. "This is more than craftsmanship. It's confession. You'll see yourselves in the blade when it ignites and you'll know what parts of you were tempered... and what parts still burn."

Laphisto reached to his side, unhooking the weapon that had followed him through centuries of battle. His lone ear pinned back slightly in focus as he extended a hand. The air stirred the hum of the Force answering his will. Slowly, his broadsaber rose from his palm, turning in the air before him. With a deliberate motion, he pulled it apart piece by piece.

The weapon obeyed like a living thing yielding to its master's command. Components drifted apart and held in orbit: emitter, focusing lens, the segmented conduit spine, the cracked-edged handgrip he had reforged more times than he could count. At the center of it all hovered the opila crystal, radiating a faint, pulsing light that painted his features in amber and white.

"Take my own saber," he said quietly, the tone half challenge, half lesson. "You will not find another like it in this galaxy or any other. Every mark upon it is a record of what I've endured of victories and failures, of moments I'd sooner forget." His gaze followed the floating parts as they turned in slow, perfect balance. "Yes, the foundry keeps molds for this pattern. Anyone could cast the shape. But no one can replicate the hours spent hammering it into being. The small imperfections, the uneven welds, the scars where the heat bit too deep each of those carries memory."

He reached out and the pieces began to reassemble, sliding together with a faint chime of metal meeting metal. "You see, craftsmanship isn't about duplication it's about imprint. A machine can forge a weapon," he continued, his voice low, reverent, "but only you can forge meaning into it. Another may build a saber that looks like mine, but when it ignites, it will hum in a different tone, strike with a different rhythm. Because their soul isn't mine."

The last piece locked into place with a soft click, the weapon whole once more. Laphisto caught it midair, its weight settling easily into his hand. The faint, resonant purr of its core filled the silence before he clipped it back to his belt. "That," he said, looking between them, "is what separates a craftsman from an assembler. A true weapon carries its maker's truth and answers only to them."