Public Forum of Falling Stars - Open to all

[Braze]

TAGS: The Council of Five Laphisto Tel Ahren Reina Daival

Braze stamped a tiny boot clad foot and crossed his arms, his eyes hard as he met Erian's gaze. "So let me get this straight," he said, his tone calm but cutting. "Kaelith gets stripped of his position and is forced into penance for a duel that we both agreed to , because it happened too close to the Tower's Pylons? And that's supposed to be justice?"

He shook his head, more to himself than anyone else. "I get that your laws are about protecting the land, the' humours', or whatever. But if the land's so sacred, why wasn't that made clear from the start? No one told me that stepping into that circle would bring down the wrath of the all-mighty Council. No one said that a duel would be treated like a declaration of war."

Braze's gaze snapped to Kaelith, the tension in his form evident. "You said I was being what the stars made me. Maybe that's true. But if the stars made me reckless, then what did they make you? Someone who has to carry everyone else's guilt? That's not what justice is. That's just a convenient play of making him a scapegoat."

His focus returned to Erian, eyes sharp. "You talk about balance, about not playing favorites. But I don't see balance. I see a man getting punished because it's easier to blame him than admit that your system is flawed."

Braze took a step forward, "If you want to make things right, then tell me what should've been done. Because if Kaelith is paying for a mistake that I helped cause, then I'm not walking away with clean hands."

His mechanical jaw clenched as he continued, voice lowering but gaining intensity in the cadence of the word spacing from the vocoder. "Those who want the power must have the responsibility. If you knew visitors and outsiders were arriving, why wasn't there some kind of warning in place? Why weren't these 'sacred Pylons' guarded, or these rules clearly explained to those who don't live under your laws?"

Braze's gaze swept over the gathered crowd now, lingering on the faces of those who had been there when the duel started. "And those who stood and watched, those who knew what was happening and said nothing, are they not just as guilty? If the danger was so obvious, then why didn't anyone step forward and speak?"

He shook his head, a bitter would be laugh escaping his throat. "You want to talk about consequences? Fine. But if Kaelith is paying for what happened here, then so should everyone who kept their mouths shut while it went down. Because silence isn't innocence. It's just another way to let someone else take the fall."

He fell quiet as his would be partner in crime Kaelith spoke up and seemed to listen to what he said.
He let out a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "As far as I can see, no real harm was done outside of some damaged flooring. If this is really about some cracked stone, then fine , I'll pay for it or put in the work to repair what was broken.... But if it's about something deeper, then someone needs to actually explain it instead of hiding behind traditions and half-truths."

His eyes locked back onto Erian, with a fierce and unyielding gaze. "Because right now, all I'm seeing is a Council that's more concerned with appearances than with real consequences. And if that's the way you do things here, then maybe it's not just Kaelith who should be reconsidering his place."

Braze's eyes widened behind his mask as Laphisto laid the situation out before him, effectively handing him the opportunity to spin a lie that could potentially shift blame away from Kaelith. For a moment, Braze's mind raced. He could take the out, claim ignorance, play along with the Echani pheromone theory. It would be easy.... and... Convenient.

But that wasn't him. Braze remembered well what side of the wars Laphisto fought for on Lothal. He understood the meeting they had after that incident too and he knew what the Diarchy leaders self proclaimed to be. He was wary of him.

Braze's mechanical jaw clenched as he stepped forward, meeting Laphisto's gaze before turning to the Council. His somber jade green eyes were unflinching, sharp as glass. "I appreciate the assist," he said, his tone neutral, almost too calm. "But that's not what happened."

His gaze swept over the gathered faces, lingering on Ophelia, Sasha, Erian, and finally Kaelith. "I won't stand here and spin a lie to make things easier for me or for Kaelith. The truth is, I wasn't influenced by any Echani pheromones. I chose to step into that circle. I chose to challenge him, and Kaelith chose to answer."

He exhaled slowly, shoulders squared. "What's happening here is deeper than a duel. The truth is, your people aren't divided because of what happened in that circle. They're divided because your laws treat some as more worthy of forgiveness than others."

Braze gestured to Kaelith, his vocoder voice growing in mild volume. "You can paint Kaelith as the aggressor, the one who needs to pay the price. But that's just treating the symptom, not the cause. People like Kaelith are already carrying the weight of their ancestors' mistakes, and now you're asking them to bear even more. Meanwhile, everyone else gets to stand by, watching, pretending they didn't help fan the flames."

His focus turned to Erian. "You said it yourself, the Tower remembers what happened here. The Pylons are marked. But that floor can be repaired. What about Kaelith? What about the other Cholerkin? Who's going to repair the damage done to them when they're treated like threats for simply defending their honor?"

Braze huffed out a breath, "You want to talk about unity? Then don't just throw someone like Kaelith under the hoverbus to keep the peace. Make a real stand. Show that this council isn't just here to uphold tradition but to actually make things right."

He took a step back, and moved towards his previous opponent. "Because if this is how you treat the people who are supposed to stand by your side, then you're not uniting anyone. You're just creating more cracks for your enemies to exploit."

The man who'd just been stripped of everything was walking away with more dignity than half the council standing there judging him.


Braze's gaze followed Kaelith as he moved toward the edge of the plaza, his back straight walking with a slow calm deliberateness. There was a defiant sort of grace in it. A purpose that Braze couldn't help but admire, even as he felt the bitterness of it sink in.

"Wait," Braze called, his vocoder failing to capture the rawness in his voice. He padded after the man, until he was a few paces behind Kaelith.

"You don't have to go alone," he said,

His green eyes flicked toward the Council, toward the faces of those who still watched, waiting to see if he'd step out of line again. And maybe he would. Maybe he was already past the point of caring about what they thought.

"I don't get why they did this to you," Braze said, the words blunt and without pretense. "I don't get why everyone's pretending like you were the only one to cross a line... I didn't think What I did would cause you trouble."

Braze turned to face the Council now, voice louder, challenging. "What good is a council that watches its own people walk away with nothing but more wounds?"

He looked back to Kaelith, "If you're going out there to learn.. then come with me. . . Maybe the stars made me reckless, but they sure as hell didn't make me a coward."

 

[Serina Calis]

"First impressions, Lady Calis..."

Tag - The Council of Five



The shift was immediate.

One moment, the Force breathed through the chamber like a sleeping giant—distant, but present, its pulse felt through crystal veins and ancient stone. The next, it was gone.

Not torn away. Not inverted. Just… silenced.

Serina inhaled—and felt nothing.
No threads. No echoes. No pressure behind her eyes.
Only stillness. Sterile. Crushing.

Her body registered it faster than her mind: the subtle spasm behind her ribs, the hairline tremble in the nerves of her left hand, the tightening in her throat like drowning in dry air. Her connection to the Force wasn't a tool—it was a state of being. And now it slipped from her like blood through a broken vein.

Ophelia's voice reached her like sound through thick water. A farewell. Polite. Rushed.

"Understood." Serina's voice remained calm—beautifully so—but her words were clipped, controlled. Measured with surgical speed.

She did not watch Ophelia go. That was irrelevant now. The game had changed.

With barely a breath's delay, Serina pivoted toward the exit. Her stride was elegant still—because panic was inefficient—but her pace accelerated. The Solarborn sentinels didn't move to stop her, but she felt their gazes shift, saw their bodies tense.

They knew.

Someone had activated a failsafe. Somewhere—not here, but near enough that its residue contaminated even this holy place.

She passed under the star-mapped corridor with increasing speed, her cloak trailing like smoke whipped by wind. Her mercenaries—standing outside the temple proper—reacted instantly as she emerged. Helmets turned. Hands went to weapons. The lead among them, Varn, stepped forward to speak.

She cut him off.

"Ignition protocol Theta-Seven. Get me off this world."

He didn't argue. Didn't ask what was happening. He only nodded and tapped his commlink. A sharp whistle pierced the air—recall tone.

Within moments, the shuttle's pilot had activated the ship's override, and the craft began to stir from its resting place on the edge of the ancient plaza.

Serina ascended the ramp like a revenant pulled back into myth, already reaching for a stim-vial clipped to her belt. Not to dull pain—she would not let them see weakness—but to jumpstart her system. Her body wasn't weak, but it wasn't built to fight an absence of the Force.

As the ramp closed behind her, sealing her off from the dust and light of Condoriah, Serina allowed herself one final look at the horizon—at the Tower, the plaza, the shadows gathering where prophecy had dared whisper her name.

Then, her voice snapped out like a lash:

"Take us up. Immediately."

The shuttle engines roared to life.

As it lifted, Serina sat—back straight, lips pressed in a thin line. Her hands remained folded in her lap, but her eyes burned.

She wasn't angry.

Not yet.

She was calculating.

Someone on Condoriah had tampered with the script. Introduced an unknown. Made their move.

Fine.

They would learn what it meant to pull the curtain before the play was done.

And when she returned, she would not come as a question.

She would come as the answer.



INT. STEALTH FRIGATE AUSTERITY – HIGH ORBIT OVER CONDORIAH
Bridge Level. Low-lit. No windows. All data fed through sensor feeds and filtered by scrambling algorithms. No transmission leaks. No emissions. The Austerity did not announce its presence—it endured in silence.

The doors hissed open.

Serina Calis entered with a predatory calm, her boots sounding a slow, measured rhythm across the durasteel flooring. Every officer on the bridge straightened reflexively—not out of fear, but precision. Respect, sharpened to an edge. She was not a storm. She was the barometric certainty before one.

Two men stood awaiting her: Lieutenant Vell Orant, a dark-eyed, analytic mind wrapped in a naval officer's composure, and Commander Derrin Thalos, older, broader, the architect of most of the Austerity's black operations.

Both bowed slightly at her approach—not deeply, but exactingly. No wasted motion.

"Lady Calis," Thalos began, eyes already flicking to the holo-display as it shimmered into form. A tactical map of Condoriah rotated slowly—a globe riddled with partial scans, topography overlays, orbital blind spots, and curious energy anomalies.

"The interference that forced your retreat originated from a phlegmite field array is currently being located," Orant explained smoothly, tapping a segment of the map with a stylus. The section pulsed red. "Localized dampening, cleverly distributed. Someone intended to close a door you were meant to walk through."

Serina's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then they've declared themselves prematurely."

"Incompetently," Thalos added, arms behind his back. "The field was efficient—but indiscriminate. They've signaled not just to us, but to anyone watching that there's something worth hiding."

Serina approached the main console, examining the scan grid with cool precision. "We need clarity. Observation. Full-spectrum analysis, deep-ground penetration. I want eyes beneath their sanctuaries, inside their towers. How long to deploy?"

Orant and Thalos exchanged a look. Then Thalos gave a crisp nod.

"We've reconditioned fourteen Viper probe droids recovered from deep storage. Imperial-era—tough, silent, still leagues beyond local tech. We've upgraded the repulsorlifts and optics. Their transceivers are low-band, directional. No hyperspace chatter, only tightbeam transmission routed back to us through relay buoys. They'll be ghosts."

"Even if detected," Orant added, tapping a schematic, "the Condorians lack proper ECM infrastructure. The probes will report until they're ash—or until we choose to detonate."

Serina's eyes didn't leave the display. Her voice was soft, but sharp enough to draw blood.

"Deploy them."

A pause. Then, more quietly:

"And have the old Imperial identifier beacons reactivated. Let the Condorians think they're being haunted by the ghosts of the gods they once outlasted."

A flicker of approval passed across Thalos's features—rare, but unmistakable.

"Yes, my Lady."

The order rippled through the bridge like a coded signal. Within moments, launch bays opened silently across the underbelly of the frigate. One by one, the old Viper droids dropped into the planet's gravity well like descending judgment—black forms with spindly limbs and red photoreceptors, their repulsors humming just above the sonic threshold.

Below, the world turned. Blissfully unaware.

Serina watched their descent in cold silence. Each probe was a thread being woven into the hidden loom of her intention.

"Let's see what they were so desperate to hide."

Her tone remained quiet. But somewhere behind her words was the promise of return. Not in peace. Not in wrath.

In certainty.

 

[The Council of Five]

⚖ Erian Talgrave ⚖
Anchor of the Silent Circle – Heartlands

Tel Ahren

Erian did not answer immediately. He let the plaza breathe again, the echoes of Kaelith’s departure still lingering in stone and silence.

When he did speak, it was low and level.

“The law does not mute dissent.”

His words were not harsh—but they held firm against the weight of Tel’s well-meaning protest.

“But the law must be applied equally, or it is nothing more than favor dressed in principle.”

He looked toward the place Kaelith had stood, the scorched ring still visible.

“Kaelith was not expelled. He chose to reject the mercy offered him. That was his right. Despite the pace, the decision was not made in haste, and I will not weaken its weight by rephrasing it to suit regret.”

He returned his attention to Tel.

“You are heard. Let that be recorded. Let your words carry forward. But the Circle has spoken—and our rulings must be final, or they are not law. They are merely opinion.”

He paused, and there—just faintly—was something like weariness in his eyes.

“The other did not draw the circle. He did not ignite the flames. He was a guest—provocative, perhaps, but within his right to speak and challenge.”

He gestured toward the scorched plaza.

“Kaelith is not a guest. He is—was—Council. Held to a higher standard by office, by tradition, and by expectation. He invoked ritual and escalated to affect bystanders. Not just with physical danger - but of the humours as well. You felt the weight he pressed upon us all, no? The tower feels that weight as well. He fought not in private, but in the sacred precinct of Safeld. And he bled into the stones of judgment, even if it did not bleed the stones themselves.”

A pause.

“This is not about power, or who won the fight. It is about responsibility.”

His voice quieted now, but not weakened.

“No Sky-Sent may be punished under our law unless they violate it knowingly. The young Knight may have tested our patience—but he did not breach Towerline. Kaelith did.”

Another pause, heavier now.

“If that feels unfair, good. It means you recognize the burden we bear here.”

He exhaled slowly, the air cooling from his words.

“Kaelith accepted that. That is what makes him worthy—if not of his seat, then of respect.”

⛨ Sasha Vopiscus ⛨
Breaker of Shields – Bodnar

Sasha crossed her arms as Erian spoke, her gaze unreadable beneath the weight of the ruling. Once he’d finished, she stepped beside Tel and let out a quiet grunt.

“You’ve got a good heart, boy.” There was no condescension in her tone, just tired respect. “And it speaks well of you that you’d risk stepping in at all.”

She looked toward the path Kaelith had taken.

“But Erian’s not wrong. The Council can’t change the law each time it makes someone angry, or it ceases to be a Council. It becomes... a wind vane.”

A breath. She softened slightly.

“Kaelith will endure. That’s what we do. That’s what they do. You’ve seen how he stands. He’ll find purpose in his exile—make something out of it. He’s not the first soldier to lose rank and walk away stronger for it.”

She gave Tel a faint nudge with her elbow.

“For what it’s worth? I’m glad the Sky-Sent care enough to ask the hard questions.”

Then she returned her gaze to the plaza. Whatever came next, it would be remembered.

 

[The Council of Five]

✠ Nameless ✠
Voice of Nothing

Braze

Kaelith halted at the edge of the plaza.

He did not turn when Braze called after him, nor when the Jedi Knight’s words pressed against the weight of silence. Only when he felt the boy draw close did he speak—low, grave, the voice of stone being shaped by fire.

“You are not the cause of my punishment.”

Only then did he turn—eyes no longer lit by wrath, but by something older, quieter. Resolve.

“I chose to carry this for my people—not just the Cholerkin, but all of us. Solarborn, Mireborn, Wyrdkin, Concordian. All of us are touched by the Heart of the World.”

He looked upward, toward the spire of the Tower in the distance, its silhouette backlit by the twilight of Condoriah’s strange new sky. He recalled a breakthrough of Isidoro's studies during the rebellion. Ulfang's goal to dominate was rooted in the world itself. He was going to find the World's heart and 'make it Bleed'. The true nature of Isidoro's revelation was a mystery to Kaelith, but he recited what Isidoro had shared:

“The Heart lies far beneath the Tower. A buried sea of raw Godsblood, deeper than even the Pylons reach. It listens—not with ears, but with pressure. With reaction. It stirs when the Force around it stirs. When we burn hot, it burns hotter.”

He touched his chest lightly, where the crimson etchings of his name burned faintly with residual light.

“And I burned too hot.”

With no ceremony, Kaelith retrieved a jagged obsidian shard from the pouch at his belt. In full view of the plaza’s edge, before Braze and any who still looked on, he dragged it with practiced precision across the raised crest over his sternum—the seal of his name, etched there when he was just a youth of Vulkhaar’s Ash.

The shard hissed. His breath caught. The blood that rose glowed briefly, then faded, inert.

The crest was gone.

“I am no longer Kaelith. I am no longer of Vulkhaar.”

The pain in his voice was not physical. It was the unmooring of lineage, of self. A deliberate cutting away from his past. He breathed out slow, shoulders rising, then stilling.

“I will earn a new name among the stars. When Condoriah calls—when the Tower tolls again—I will return. As the man I choose to become.”

He turned again to Braze.

“If you walk with me, understand this: I do not seek glory. I do not seek revenge. I seek understanding. For myself. For them.” He nodded toward the gathered kin, now distant behind them. “If the stars truly made us reckless, then I will meet them halfway—with clarity. With purpose.”

“If you would take me to the heavens, I accept. Let the sky remember the name I have yet to earn.”

 

[The Council of Five]

❖ Hisaki Godo ❖
Whisper of the Verdant Memory – Ferran

Shan

Hisaki watched him quietly. The grove had grown still around them, even the wind seeming to hush itself as Shan spoke.

When he finished, Hisaki did not speak right away. She placed her hand gently over her pipe, snuffing the ember with a press of her palm. A faint curl of smoke rose between her knuckles.

“Then the Galaxy has failed you,” she said softly, not as pity, but as truth. “And so have we all, who let it become that way, knowingly or not.”

She looked at him not with somberly.

“Among our kind, there is a story of the tree that bleeds.” She gestured to the tallest elder-root just behind her. “When the forest was young, fire struck it—not once, but many times. And though its bark blackened and its limbs cracked, it did not fall. The trees around it called it cursed, ugly, marked. Yet it learned to heal not only itself, but others. We sing to that tree still, in our home of Thorneheart.”

A pause, and then her gaze turned more direct, more motherly.

“You are like that tree. Kindness is not weakness, Shan. It is a stubborn root. It digs deeper when the world tries to tear it out. You did not lose your family because you were kind. You lost them because the Galaxy has not yet learned how to love those who choose to protect instead of punish.”

She leaned closer, tone turning wry.

“Besides. The moon that raised you might be cruel, but I suspect the wilds of Ferran are older and a fair bit wiser. We keep what kindness we find.” The Matriarch's words drew a giggle from a flock of the maidens, which earned them a stern glance from nearly all the elders.

Then, more firmly now—firm enough to carry to the edge of the circle where the younger Wyrdkin still dared to sneak glances at the Star-Made Knight:

“Kindness still rules your hand, and that is what makes you a sun - giving life from yourself freely and expecting nothing in return.”

A beat, and then a warmer, teasing edge returned.

“Any seedling would be a fool to reject the light from a sun as bright as you.”

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Concordia
Tags: The Council of Five
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

Reina just kept herself sat off to the side quietly, fuming internally as she tried to calm herself down. Running her thumb over the palm of her hands to try and clean them ever so slightly. It hadn't been a good idea for her to go off to somewhere alone like this. None of the people who could help calm her down where anywhere to be seen so she was stuck with the task of trying to relax by herself. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the wind flow around her, feeling the breeze in her hair. Just trying to let her frustrations evaporate into the breeze instead of keeping it boiling up inside of her. That was the hardest thing Reina had to learn. To release her emotions instead of keeping them bundled up until they erupted out of her like a rage-filled volcano.

That wasn't what she wanted to be. She unclipped Pequod from her belt and rolled the hilt of her lightsaber in her hand for a moment, staring at it in thought. Her Blade was a pure white, neither leaning towards the Dark or the Light. Caught in the middle of it, like Reina felt herself. She was trying to stay in the Light, to be true to it but at the same time she knew she was volatile. Her emotions could erupt at any moment. So as much as she wanted to stay true to the Light, there was always the chance that she might not be able to. For now, she felt like she was making decent progress. She had to figure out who she wanted to be, and she was slowly starting to put the puzzle pieces together.
​

 

[Shan]

Tag: The Council of Five

"No-one failed me. To place blame is not my way. Otherwise I'd blame my Father for not letting me learn the way of the Mirialan people. I'd blame my Mother for staying with him. I'd blame myself for...being me. So instead...I do not place blame on anyone. We all have reasons for what we do, even if some may not understand them."

Shan gave a short nod at that, before listening to Hisaski's story about the tree. When he was younger, Shan did have an affinity for animals and plants. He'd enjoy the flora and fauna that he'd never seen before. Of course that had changed in recent years. Nature was no longer something he was amazed by, since it just felt...normal to him. Sometimes the Mirialan felt at home amongst the trees and the animals, and sometimes he felt at home in the Archives. What he had slowly started to realise was that his home wasn't in one set place...Though there was a part of him that wouldn't mind settling down here for a while...

"If you keep the kindness you find here, it is not a surprise that you're all so sweet. I have not met many in the Galaxy like you. I've...been on a mission of my own choice, to try and learn more about the Galaxy's cultures. I originally intended on building an orphanage instead...but I feel like I can do that once I retire. I still have plenty of energy to use to explore the Galaxy."

His cheeks were once again growing a darker green at the sound of the giggles from the Wyrdkin away from the circle. Though he shook his head once more at the comparison of being a sun, breaking out into a small smile at the same time however.

"I'm not a sun, though I thank you for the comparison. A sun warms everyone within in sight, I am not at that level yet. I can only give life to those I can see."

Finally, Shan allowed himself a moment to look over towards the younger Wyrdkin, raising his hand in a small greeting. He wanted to be approachable, and didn't want to appear as some kind of larger than life personally. In his eyes, he was always just going to be just a regular person. Just Shan, the Mirialan Jedi who wants to help everyone he can. It was a foolish endeavour, but Shan would not refute someone saying he was a fool.

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre felt exceptionally left out of things. However, she didn't feel bad about it. She was still new to this time and had a lot to learn. There was muted conversation, and she watched it all play out in front of her. When Laphisto started to answer her, she returned her attention to him.

Listening intently, if what he said was true, then her choice not to return to the Jedi was the best she had done. Chewing on her lip as she followed her Master, she kept her eyes open to the situation and talk as they approached. Her intuition told her nothing was going to be changed. No matter what was said.

His words were concise and straightforward. His focus was intense but not hostile or severe. He was trying to calm the drama and smooth egos. Some of it was accomplished, but the rest was not. One couldn't please everybody, but it almost seemed like he wanted to.

Keeping her thoughts to herself, she stalked after Laphisto and continued to be the silent and observant person she was. In time, she hoped to have a private exchange with Braze. Watching him as he spoke and chased after Kaelith, she didn't know if that chance would come again.

Turning back to the congregation surrounding Erian, she remained quiet and subdued. A time would come when her voice might be heard, but it wasn't this moment.

Braze Laphisto The Council of Five

 

[The Council of Five]

⚖ Erian Talgrave ⚖
Anchor of the Silent Circle – Heartlands

When the circle displbanded, Erian returned to the red-haired youth who spoke out. He stopped a few paces from where Reina sat.

He didn’t speak right away.

Only after a moment, with a glance at the saber in her hand, did he say—softly:

“You spoke honestly. You were right to.”

Another pause. The breeze moved gently through the plaza.

“I made the ruling I could. I don’t expect it felt fair.”

His voice was quiet. Lower now.

“There are already rifts we make trying to hold the ground steady.”

He looked at her then, briefly.

“If this is one of them... I understand.”

He didn’t linger. No long farewell. Just a simple nod and the sound of his steps fading as he turned to leave her to her thoughts.

❖ Hisaki Godo ❖
Whisper of the Verdant Memory – Ferran

Hisaki hummed low in her throat, a sound between agreement and amusement.

The giggles grew louder again at that, no longer subtle. A few of the bolder Wyrdkin maidens had formed a loose semicircle at a respectful distance, passing a carved bark slate between them where someone had tried sketching Shan’s profile in profile—with exaggerated cheekbones, a jawline like mountain stone, and eyes as wide as the moons. One of them was clearly practicing his smile.

“We’ve warned them,” Hisaki added dryly, sipping her stew. “But they’re young. And you’ve smiled at them now. That’s a sacred act in some circles.”

She gave Shan a sideways glance, the corner of her mouth quirked, revealing the jest. “You may not want to stay long. If one of them sings your name under moonlight, you’ll be wed by sunrise.”

The jest was spoken plainly—but the older Wyrdkin around the fire chuckled. It was not a threat, just a welcome.

And then, softer:

“If you still wish to build that orphanage one day…” Her eyes turned toward the firelight. “the scars of war here have not fully healed. Within and without of Ferran. Children without homes, scorched lands that could need healing hands.”

A pause.

“You need not wait for retirement."

☼ Ophelia Englehardt ☼
Speaker of Starlight – Doriah

Ophelia stood still as the last of Kaelith’s figure faded behind the horizon. Her hands were folded loosely before her, the light wind pressing quiet tension into the hem of her sleeves.

And then, without turning, she spoke—not to the remaining council, not to the crowd, but gently toward one who had not yet been heard.

“Apprentice of the Lilaste order. You’ve kept your voice, though you had cause to speak.”

Now she turned, just slightly, her luminescent eyes gaze finding the girl among the shifting onlookers immediately.

“I do not forget silence—nor mistake it for apathy.”

A pause.

“In days to come, when the world quiets... I hope you will lend that voice to the questions we have yet to ask.”

She gave a shallow nod, acknowledgment, not expectation, before returning to the growing bonfires of the evening.

 

[Nameless]

VOICE OF NOTHING

Outfit: Blood-Etched Nomad Armor
Weapons: None, save memory and fire

His bare feet touched the stone one final time.

The plaza no longer felt like a place of justice or shame. Only memory.

The Forum of Fallen Stars behind him burned quietly in the reflection of his eyes, its scorched floor now cooled, its judgment sealed. The Tower of the Covenant loomed above the skyline, silver and solemn, unflinching in its silence. A monument to remembrance—and to forgetting.

He did not speak to it. Not this time.

Instead, he turned, slowly, to face the wind. It caught in the loose folds of his robe—no longer the armor of a Voice, nor the mantle of a nation. Just thread and ash, wrapped around a man without a name.

The crimson etchings on his skin still pulsed faintly beneath his collarbone—what few had not been ritualistically carved away. The blood that once roared for legacy now hummed with something else: resolve, tempered by exile.

He did not curse them. He did not thank them.

He simply looked back once more, eyes like coal and bone and fire, and then stepped forward into the horizon beyond the Tower’s shadow.

Into the galaxy that had forgotten Arakhan.
Into the stars that had made him.
Into the storm that waited.

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Nameless

"Understanding is a good start. " Braze offered lightly. " I will have to call you something though... "

 

[Shan]

Tag: The Council of Five

"It's fine if they want to draw me. I'm not opposed to it. I just don't want to be...idolised for something they think I'm not."

Shan gave a short nod at that, staring off into the distance in thought. He honestly didn't mind staying for a day or two here to get to know the people. That's normally what he did when he was learning about new cultures. In fact, he'd normally stay for a week but there was at least a reasonable part of him that thought staying here for too long might not be the best of ideas for him, lest he never leaves.

"I do still want to build the orphanage one day...It is just where I originally planned it would not work anymore. I planned on building on a planet that was under the protection of a dear friend of mine...but that friend has abandoned the planet. And so the plans to build have to be put on halt. It's fine. It's why I've been adventuring throughout the Galaxy instead though. That way I'm not...settled down in one location."

Of course, he could understand what Hisaski was implying about building the Orphanage here...but Shan wasn't sure if he understood enough about the people to risk bringing vulnerable and innocent children here. No, he still didn't understand the full risks and dangers of the planet and so he couldn't build it here, yet.

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Concordia
Tags: The Council of Five
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

"I was right to waste my breath? To say useless words that had no point?"

She kept her gaze on Pequod, twisting and turning the hilt in her hand in thought. Reina did not make a habit of defending others, or even speaking out for them. She had always thought that words were pointless, and that actions were what defined you. It was at least somewhat more apparent to her that her words were far more pointless and useless than she had expected.

"The Law can't be fair, when it will approve one person over the other. It reminds me of the Doledote scrabjack that caused me to lose my leg. He believed the law did not allow for wiggle room."

Reina reached her hand down to her prosthesis, sighing to herself for a moment. It wasn't a fond memory to say the least, but this somewhat reminded her of that incident in a way. She had done what she thought was best, what the situation had demanded, and had been punished for it, whereas the person who caused her to act the way she did got off with no punishment.

"And so when I killed slavers to save a bunch of children, he disarmed me whilst I was fighting. Which...I don't think I need to elaborate on what happened next."

With that said and done however, Reina just turned her attention back towards Pequod, gripping onto the Lightsaber as if it was some kind of Lifeline.
​

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto gave a small frown when he heard Braze speak, cursing softly under his breath as he shook his head and let out a quiet sigh. He reached up to rub the bridge of his nose, muttering something unintelligible before turning his attention to The Council of Five , specifically Erian and Ophelia.

"I assure you, the young Jedi does not represent his people as a whole." His tone was level, measured still trying to salvage what little diplomatic ground remained. perhaps for the Jedi. or the Galactic Alliance. "He is part of a sect of Force users who call themselves Jedi. I cannot say what the Jedi Order has become in full, but I know this he is one of the younger ones. That alone should tell you he does not represent the Galactic Alliance as a whole, either. So I do hope, when diplomats from that organization eventually find their way here, this encounter does not sour your perception of them."

He crossed his arms slowly over his chest, the rumble in his voice deepening slightly as his ear pinned back with a subtle flick of irritation. His gaze swept across the remaining council members before him. "My offer still stands to lend military aid to your people in the event of external threats. But know this: the Lilaste Order will not intervene in a civil war, should one break out. That would be an internal matter. If warships from another nation attempt to take advantage of the chaos, however, I assure you we will stand ready to keep them out, should you wish to have us."

With a raised brow, Laphisto turned to glance over at Reina Daival . He recognized her from Endor. The sight of the lightsaber in her hands and the way she carried herself made it clear she'd somehow found her way to the Jedi. He noted the prosthetic leg, the sight of it not lost on him. lots of jedi now days were loosing limbs due to the war with teh sith. but he chose to keep his thoughts to himself. Instead, he turned back toward Iandre Athlea , his voice lowering in tone. "We've done all we can here. Let's get back to Tarain and the others. I'm sure the boys would appreciate a debrief... and I imagine you have a lot to think about."