Faction It Feels Like An Eternity [THP, NJO, THR, open to all Jedi and friends of Caltin Vanagor]

[Azurine Varek]

Remember The Fallen

Spoiler: SONG

Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman | Purple Bracelet
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 [x] | Lightsaber 2 [x] | Hook Swords

Azurine hadn't known at first if there was a body or not given how little she knew of what had truly happened on Corescant. She didn't fully learn until she started digging that Connel Vanagor had recovered Master Caltin Vanagor himself from the reckage left behind from the bombardment. Still, she had heard nothing else other than that. Maybe she didn't believe that she was the person fit to plan anything formal. She wasn't his direct family, nor was she even an official padawan of his. However, lost as she was, she couldn't find it in her to let someone who meant so much to so many, so much to her, go into the Force with dead silence.

Caltin deserved so much more than that. Hell, he deserved more than what little Azzie could offer. So, she'd sent an encrypted and anonymous transmission to the jedi and family across the galaxy to come to Alderaan. The private retreat had been turned into a refuge, and as terrified as Azzie was of oceans, she had an idea of the importance of the place for Caltin and his family. She didn't know what else to do other than that and hope that there were others who could do more. In the end, even if she was the only one that set her ship down and stepped out onto the secluded little island that day, then at least she had given everything she believed she could.

Spoiler: INFO

This is the public memorial at the Shadow Sanctuary on Alderaan for Jedi Master Caltin Vanagor, who lost his life on Corescant.

The opening has been left as open-ended and informal as possible to allow for everyone who wants to engage with it in any way they wish. Grief takes many forms, and as such PVP fighting isn't completely discounted as long as it's in character and done with proper respect (Ergo, if fists need to be thrown, just don't make the whole thread devolve into madness with it and make sure the narritive comes first when doing so, please).

​

 

[Coren Starchaser]

He has been away from the galaxy for a bit. Coren Starchaser had retired from the majority of galactic events. He was a Wayseeker and a Warden of the Sky. Using Xelec as his jump off point he was rescuing people.

And as often as he was doing it. The news of the galaxy kept changing. More Jedi were rising to fill big shoes. But the pillars that Coren knew were there to keep the galaxy moving if he fell, were vanishing. First Jorus.

And now Caltin.

The legendary man who could arm wrestle a Wookiee was gone. Fallen to protect and give the Light what remained.

Wearing the formal robes of the Kattada temple, tan and navy, with a sash that called back to the deceased and the living Masters joint time in the Silver Jedi. Flanked by his wife, Celeste Rigel, they stepped from the ship, ready to pay respects.

 

[Brooke Waters]

The blonde may have been a witch, but she was also at one point a Jedi. And one who respected the fallen masters. Even more so for the ones who had saved her once upon a time.

She wore the robes of her Witch station, but carried the lightsaber she had not used in a way that Jedi had any longer. Her Innesco yacht had landed and she followed the grieving.

Caltin held big shoes that would need to be filled. And if she could help the other Jedi in this time, with any of her skills, she would.

 

[Thexann Pehnataur]

PERSONAL MEMO (Encrypted)

Author: Thexann Pehnataur
Subject: Memorial for Vanagor
Location: [REDACTED]
Access Level: [Red-Alpha Priority]

---

Personal Log Entry – Thexann Pehnataur
Shadow Sanctuary, Odessen

It feels strange to be here. I’ve walked through countless corridors in this galaxy, traversed the darkest corners of the corporate world, and commanded the hands of men and women who follow my every word. But tonight, I stand in a place where the weight of silence carries more meaning than any transaction or deal I’ve ever brokered.

The Jedi don’t hold wakes, not the way the rest of the galaxy does. There’s no casket, no mournful music playing through the air. But the grief is palpable, woven into the very stone of the Shadow Sanctuary. The Temple itself seems to carry the weight of their loss, its walls standing silent and stoic as the Jedi gather. They are not here to mourn a Jedi Master’s passing in the traditional sense. No, they are here to honor a legacy, to reflect on what Caltin Vanagor stood for. To remember the sacrifices he made — for all of them, for the galaxy, and, in the end, for his family.

I, of all people, am the one who should feel removed from this. I am not a Jedi, never will be. I was never part of this Order’s sacred bond, nor did I have the privilege of walking beside Caltin as he did what he could to defend the Republic. But in this moment, I am just as much a part of this.

Alyksandra... She stands near the center of the room, composed yet fragile, a widow mourning the loss of the man who shared more with her than anyone else ever could. Her grief is a quiet storm that churns just beneath the surface, hidden behind a façade of strength and grace. But I see it. I know it. Liram’s loss has never truly left her, and now, the death of her brother-in-law, her Jedi protector, weighs heavier on her than any of us may ever know.

I’ve watched her fight to stand strong for Michael, for her family, but there are moments when I see the cracks. She’s not immune to the same kind of loneliness that haunts us all. The weight of expectations, the responsibility of holding the torch for those we’ve lost. I understand it more than anyone here.

Michael... How proud Caltin would have been to see him, to watch him grow into the man he’s becoming. He’s far too young to bear such burdens, yet I know he will. His father's absence will shape him, but it won’t define him. He has Alyksandra, and he has me, though I often wish I could be more for him than just another face in the crowd.

As I stand here, amidst these Jedi, I can’t help but feel the deep connection that binds them all. It’s not just the Force that unites them, but their shared commitment to something greater than themselves. It’s something that I can never fully grasp, not in the way they do. But I’ll do whatever it takes to support them, to make sure they have what they need. In my own way, I’ll be part of this fight, too.

I can’t help but wonder what Caltin would have said, what he would have done had he lived through these troubled times. Would he still be fighting? Still training the next generation of Jedi, guiding them through the darkness? Or would he have turned away, seeking peace somewhere far from the chaos? Perhaps he would have said, “Sometimes, you have to stand firm in the storm and know that the sun will rise.” I know the man well enough to think that’s what he would have said.

I made sure the provisions were here, the arrangements were taken care of, but that’s just a small part of what I can do. I wish I could give more — something that would ease the grief, even just for a moment. But in the end, all I can offer is my presence, my commitment to helping rebuild what the galaxy has lost. I will stay out of their way, as I always have. They don’t need me to lead them. They need me to stand by them.

So I’ll stand. And when the time comes, when they’re ready, I’ll step forward and do whatever I can to help bring them the peace that Caltin fought so hard to protect.

End Log.

This is what he is saying to people, just like a cutaway

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

Journal Entry:

Personal Log – Michael Angellus
Alderaan – Shadow Sanctuary

The Shadow Sanctuary isn’t like any temple I’ve been to.

It’s quiet in a way that doesn’t feel empty — more like the walls themselves are holding their breath, listening. The air is cool here, touched with the scent of stone and old wood, and lit by soft golden lanterns that seem to float more than hang. Every surface whispers of care, not ceremony. This place wasn’t built to impress; it was built to protect what matters.

And today, what mattered was him.
My great uncle. Jedi Master Caltin Vanagor.

People had already gathered when I walked in, scattered in small circles beneath the tall arches, speaking in low tones. Some wore robes, some uniforms, some civilian clothes that still carried the dust of travel. Every face carried the same thing — a shadow of grief, and a glint of pride.

I met them one by one. Shook their hands. Some were warm, steady grips. Others trembled. Each offered me a fragment of him — a rescue in a warzone, a word at the right moment, a shield raised when no one else would stand. I didn’t have to ask for the stories; they just came. It felt like the Sanctuary itself was guiding them to me.

When I found Mom — Alyksandra — she was standing in front of the central memorial stone. His name was carved deep, the edges smoothed by loving hands. The light caught in the lettering like it was alive. We stood side by side, not saying anything, just breathing in the same space, looking at the same name.

Then she said it. Just five words:
“He would’ve been proud of you.”

It was like she’d pulled a pin on something inside both of us. No collapse, no dramatic sobbing. Just quiet tears, sliding down without permission, carried by everything we’d been holding back.

We're staying like that until the Sanctuary’s lanterns flicker with the shift of the evening wind.
I don’t know if I’ll ever fill the space he left.

But I can walk in it.
And I will.

End log.



TAG: Open to anyone and everyone. He’s going to be taking this hard.

This is where he is speaking

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Alderaan - Shadow Sanctuary

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

Coruscant. What a mess that was. Even now, the galaxy was still dealing with the aftermath of it all. Like, this - Jedi Master Caltin Vanagor's wake. Ace didn't know the man, had never even met him. But he was all too aware of the man's sacrifice, that and he was Michael Angellus 's uncle. The white-haired rebel was here for two reasons today, to pay his respects to a man who'd given his life for something bigger than himself, and to support someone he'd considered a friend.​

​

Ace had never been here before, to Shadow Sanctuary. Or even Alderaan for that matter, the planet was beautiful - like it had come out of a painting. It was a shame his first time here had to be under such circumstances. For a moment though, he'd wondered if this was somewhere Caltin would have liked. The Sanctuary was dense in the Force, it felt as if he was drowning in grief. Grief that didn't belong to him.​

​

Michael was with another woman, she looked older - his mother maybe? They were stood in front of a memorial stone. The young man felt hesitant for a moment, he was bad with grief and feelings in general. He didn't want to interrupt a moment between the pair either. What would he even say when he went over there?​

​

He bit his lip, shaking his head gently. No, it wasn't about him or how awkward this all felt. Ace was here to honor the Jedi Master, and be there for his friend. Taking a step forward, he made his way over to Michael with purpose and stopped behind him.​

​

"Hey." he greeted him in his usual dry tone, but a hint of warmth was beneath it. Ace placed his palm on the slightly shorter man's shoulder "Wanted to show some support." he ended it with a faint smile.​

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

Journal Entry:

Personal Log – Michael Angellus
Alderaan – Shadow Sanctuary

The Alderaanian wind carries a different kind of quiet than the Sanctuary on Odessen.
Here, it moves through the open arches and stonework like it’s in no hurry — bending the wildflowers, rattling the ivy, brushing against the marble. You can see for kilometers in every direction, green valleys cut by silver rivers, mountain peaks still catching the last of the sun. If peace had a sound, it might be this place.

I’d come out here to breathe, to let the weight of Odessen settle before I tried to lift it again. But I wasn’t alone for long.

Acier didn’t make a big entrance — no dramatics, no calling my name across the courtyard. He just… walked up and stood next to me at the edge of the railing, hands folded on the stone. We didn’t speak right away. Didn’t need to. His presence was enough to cut the edge of the silence.

When he finally did say something, it wasn’t about Caltin, or loss, or even me.
It was simple:
“You’ve got people here, Mike.”

That’s when I realized how much I’d been carrying like it was mine alone to bear. The stories at the Sanctuary, Mom’s voice, the name carved in stone — I’d been holding it all so tightly I didn’t leave room for anything else.

So I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been keeping, and I told him about some of the stories I’d heard. We traded memories — his, mine, some secondhand, some barely complete. And before I knew it, we were laughing at something small, something Caltin had once done that sounded ridiculous but somehow completely believable.

It wasn’t closure. I don’t think that’s even possible right now. But it was the first step toward carrying him with less weight and more light.

And I’m grateful Acier was there to take it with me.

Hey man! Thank you.

Bro Hug time…

Can’t believe I just said “Bro Hug time…”

Can’t believe I keep forgetting this thing records everything.

End log.





TAG: Acier Moonbound | Open to anyone and everyone. He’s going to be taking this hard.

This is where he is speaking

 

[Kell Masaara]

It felt like an age gone by since she was here last, learning from the man she was about to pay final respects to, even if - in truth - it was hardly any time at all. It didn't feel real. Coruscant didn't feel real. Like a devastating action/horror holofilm she was forced to sit front row for and couldn't look away from. As her borrowed ship landed with a hard thud, something she was still learning to manage alongside the protests of an exasperated astromech, she took a deep breath in and out and listened to the waves from the cockpit. Maybe if she closed her eyes hard enough, it really wouldn't be real.

Of course, that's not the galaxy she lives in, where the fates of not just one man, but entire planets, can't simply be wished all better. With a sharp breath out, she hoists herself down to the ground. Kell doesn't own much in the way of formal wear, but she is dressed in black for the occasion. Probably the nicest jumpsuit she saved from Tython. A few people had gathered already, strangers all, but at least she'd seen Azurine Varek in the past, though they'd never spoken. A little familiarity is a good place to start - she makes her way over to the Iridonian woman.

"Hey."

Excellent starter. Thank you, Kell. She offers a hand to shake, tone subdued.

"I've seen you before - Kell Masaara. Nice to meet you."

 

[Feydrik Munin]

Why was Feydrik Munin, of all people, here?​

The question was fair to ask- he was a notorious Jedi killer, maniac, violent man. But-

He also respected his foes. As did his people- the Jedi and Sith, their greatest. Despite the machinations of weaker-willed Mandalorians currently prancing about the galaxy, the Crusaders were wolves in the dark forests of the galaxy. And here he was, coming back.

He stood tall, his armor polished, cleaned, repainted for the ceremony. He was not approached, nor stopped. Perhaps they didn't recognize him. But he was not here with violent intent. He looked around. That would come another time. There was a time to honor the fallen foes, especially ones that earned such respect and admiration from friend and foe alike.

He reached to his helmet, removing it, holding it down in front of him, his head bowed in solemn silence, thinking of the loss of such a worthy foe.

 

[Darth Spectris]

Spoiler: permission

Caltin's author let me do this over Discord!

And so the darkness swallows the light once again, a beacon of peace and stability put into the ground before the true power in the galaxy. It's almost... a shame? Yes, he supposes so, a shame. While the Sith Lord holds no allegiance to the upstarts claiming the legacy of Sidious in the core worlds, he reveled in their success, in the chaos, in the change they forced upon a languishing Alliance. They also killed what makes the Sith strong.

"My lord, several vessels below, are you certain about this?"

Spectris frowned as the shuttle pilot interrupted his musings. "Yes. Land - give them space."

"As you say."

Encrypted though it was, such a disgorgement of messages hardly goes unnoticed in this day and age, especially when one is hunting, and cracking it was, to him, an excellent exercise in skills and resources that should never be allowed to rust. To do so would be a shame indeed. Taking his place at the rear as the shuttle landed, Spectris suppressed his presence in the Force; that aura of cold and subtle panic that made every chase delectable was wholly inappropriate for such an occasion. Even to think of the faux pas made him cringe.

With a hiss of machinery signaling the opening of his shuttle, the miralukan Sith descended with a crisp click-clack of well-polished boots, his tattered and torn robes by contrast flowed almost weightlessly in the sea breeze. Only the white of his head dress and the crimson shards of shattered kyber crystal that decorated it deviated from the pitch black of his attire. Silently, slowly, he approached the memorial to the late, great Caltin Vanagor, hands folded in front of him with... Respect? Truly? The galaxy is never without wonder.

Truly a devastating loss.

He said nothing, evidently content to ignore the others, or maybe simply lost in contemplation on what this meant for both sides.

 

[Katherine Holt]

Location: Alderaan, Shadow Sanctuary
Outfit: Link
​

The second she heard Azurine’s message, Katherine hadn’t hesitated to immediately fly to Alderaan. So much had been happening since the fall of Coruscant, that the winged Jedi hadn’t admittedly not even thought about paying her respects to the Jedi Master. Thus, she made it adamant to rectify that error.

Setting her ship down a fair distance away, the redhead opted to fly over to the Shadow Sanctuary. Katherine was adorned in her Knight attire, hood up and covering her face. Mostly in part to hide the very evident bags under her eyes. Katherine hadn’t slept a whole lot in recent memory, having been trying to keep up with everything going on with the Alliance.

So much flying around the galaxy, from point to point without much rest.

Katherine walked over to the memorial, kneeling down into a meditative pose. She spoke softly, quiet words of a prayer before closing her eyes. The winged Jedi focused on the Force, allowing her thoughts to flow into it.

I doubt I’d be sitting here if it weren’t for you, Master Vanagor. I was there on Coruscant, inside the Senate Rotunda. Quite literally next door as Solipsis was unleashing his power. That coupled with how heavy the Dark was over the planet, I fear I would’ve been smothered by it if not for you.

When you gave yourself to the Force, bolstering Master Valery’s efforts to spread the Light. I felt your presence keenly, almost as if you were there beside me. Your strength, resolve, courage and bravery.

I don’t think we ever got to speak directly, but you were always insightful and knowledgeable whenever you taught. As a Padawan, you were one of the Masters I looked to for inspiration. That still holds true today and into the future.

May the Force be with you, Caltin Vanagor.​

Katherine could feel the presence of a Sith nearby, her hands resting atop her lap curling into fists. But before the tension could really settle, the redhead released it and unfurled her hands.

Now was neither the time nor place.

 

[Everest Vale]

Outfit: Robes
Equipment: Lightsaber, Bracelet, Earrings, Seer Stone, Wayfinder's Flare, Engagement Ring
Companion: Isari

The ocean breeze was softer here than she had expected. It rolled in slow waves across the island, carrying the scent of salt and something faintly floral from the wild growth near the shore. Eve stepped down from the small shuttle, her boots finding the wooden slats of the pier with a muted thud. At her heel, Isari padded quietly, silver eyes alert yet gentle, the fox's tail brushing lightly against her calf.

Eve hadn't known Master Caltin Vanagor well, only by the weight of his reputation, and through one class she would never forget. That day, his words had been steady and sure, spoken with the kind of patience that stayed with her long after. And she knew Connel. That was reason enough to be here.

The path from the pier curved gently through the green, dappled with shade. Others were gathered already, voices low, the air heavy with that particular stillness that accompanied loss. Eve slowed as she drew near, her single eye tracing the memorial space, its simple and peaceful atmosphere.

She found a quiet place to stand, bowing her head briefly in the direction of the memorial before lowering herself to sit on the grass, Isari curling beside her. One hand came to rest on the fox's back, fingers curling into the soft fur.

In her mind, she recalled the brief moment of learning under his instruction. The lesson on tutaminis had opened her awareness of the Force up in a way she had never expected, and she had worked tirelessly to improve the ability ever since. It was something of him she would carry forever, a gift she could bring into the future, along with Master Vanagor's presence, power and devotion that had inspired her so endlessly.

She closed her eye for a moment, breathing in the sea air, and let the Force carry her silent thanks to wherever he had gone.

 

[Amani Serys]

- Michael Angellus - Acier Moonbound - Open -​

The costs of Coruscant kept racking up. Another great Jedi had been lost to senseless chaos. Amani always held Caltin Vanagor in eminent respect, not just as a righteous warrior, but as a wise and stalwart emissary of the Light.

And now he was gone.

It would be easy to say that the Force needed him elsewhere. That this path was an inevitable one all beings must one day take. But Amani couldn't help but feel that this time, something invaluable had been taken from the galaxy too early. She couldn't even claim to have been particularly close to the man, but his deeds spoke for themself. Combined with the uncertainty growing in the Core, prayers and platitudes rung a little more hollow this day.

As this gathering was taking place on Alderaan, Amani felt compelled to attend not just as a fellow Jedi, but as a Queen. She dressed humbly— in thick, ceremonial Jedi robes— but also wore a Chalcedony pendant, a small symbol of the Organa House. She would have offered any desired accommodations for the event, but in true Jedi fashion, there was little more they sought than a quiet sanctuary in which to reflect and pay respects.

Many had come to do so. Even a Mandalorian, who earned an unsubtle examination from Amani. Yet there was no urge for conflict in his actions or in the Force. He too was truly here to mourn, and so she paid him no mind. This healer had grown quite tired of all the violence as is.

Instead she turned her focus to the young Angellus, a man she did not know properly, but understood him to be quite close to Vanagor. She gave him and his apparent confidant, Acier, their space, before approaching when the time seemed fitting, "Michael Angellus?" Amani spoke his name, shifting her arm out from under the thick shawl adorning her head and shoulders, "On behalf of all of Alderaan, I wanted to offer our sympathy.

...And as a comrade of Caltin's, to offer my empathy."

 

[Remus]

The ocean murmured against the cliffs far below, a sound soft enough to be lost beneath the low voices of those gathered. From the edge of the grounds, half-veiled by the shade of an old cedar, a tall, robed figure stood apart from the crowd.

Remus had come without announcement. No ship bearing his mark. No name written in the registry. Just a shadow at the periphery, watching.

He had known Caltin Vanagor longer than most of those gathered, perhaps—long enough to have fought beside him when the galaxy was another place entirely. They had been through sieges and stand-offs, both of them carrying the weight of too many battles, too many compromises.

And yet, they had not spoken in more than a decade.

He had told himself there would be time.

From this distance, he could see the faces closer to the memorial stone, hear the muted murmur of remembrance. His gaze stayed fixed there, but his right hand curled slowly into a fist inside the folds of his cloak. The thought of Caltin’s last moments on Coruscant — of him giving himself for others — sat like iron in his chest.

"You... stupid old man, Cal..."

The knuckles ached from the strain.

He drew in a slow breath, and let it out just as slowly. The tension eased from his fingers.

In the quiet that followed, he thought of Caltin as he truly was, not as the galaxy would remember him in statues or holo-recordings, but as the man Remus had respected without question. Unshakable, relentless, and, when it mattered most, truly, authentically kind.

The breeze shifted, carrying the salt scent of the sea up to where he stood. He took it in as if it might carry his unspoken farewell.

Then, with no more sound than the turning of the tide, Remus stepped back from the view and was gone, leaving no mark save the space he had occupied.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Knight von Ascania drifted silently through the crowd of mourners, the hood of her robe drawn far enough forward to obscure her face in partial shadows.

She had not known Caltin Vanagor well. But she knew of his strength, his spirit, and his legendary commitment to protecting others. Traits that had shone through in his son, Connel Vanagor . Traits that many Jedi, including herself, had sought to emulate in one way or another.

Cora stepped forward, placing a small bouquet of red poppies and hyssop blooms at the foot of the memorial – the same flowers that had grown over the Jedi's fallen body in a bout of plant surge during the Coruscant invasion.

She'd liked to think that in a way, even the Force had honored his sacrificed that day.

Cora took a step back, bowed her head, and threaded her fingers together. Her lips moved slowly in a quiet prayer to Ashla.

Watch over him, she imparted unto the Force. Watch over his kin. Watch over us.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

Closure
ALDERAAN
Shadow Sanctuary

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel, Raguel
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]

The Shadow Sanctuary was never meant for crowds, but it felt impossibly full.
Cloaked Jedi, robed elders, soldiers in dress uniforms, quiet citizens who had made the journey just to be here — all gathered beneath the vaulted stone and dim gold light. The air carried the faint scent of incense and old timber, the low murmur of voices pressed into hushed tones out of respect.

Connel stepped through the arched entrance, Omega Squad flanking him in their muted gear. No words between them. No mission to brief, no enemy to anticipate — just the living weight of absence.

He spotted his mother first. Alyksandra was with Chrysa, who stood near the central memorial flame, a hand resting on Buster’s head while Cooper leaned against her leg. Her eyes met his, and for a second the room seemed to contract to just them. She gave him the smallest nod, a silent I’m here.

People came, one by one, to clasp his shoulder or bow their head, asking softly, How are you holding up? He gave the same answer every time — a slight nod, maybe a wordless breath — because the truth was, he didn’t know. He wasn’t holding up. He was just… here.

The central dais bore no body, only a carved stone representation of the Vanagor crest and his father’s lightsaber — the real one had been recovered, battered but intact, and set in a place of honor. Its silvered hilt caught the light in a way that made his chest tighten.

Voices blurred into the background, the way they had during the worst firefights. Omega Squad kept their respectful distance, but he could feel their presence like a wall at his back.

Connel stepped forward, every footfall echoing off the stone. The memorial flame danced in the still air. His hand hovered just above the lightsaber’s grip, but didn’t touch. He stood there, letting the silence stretch until it felt like the only thing left in the galaxy.

When he finally spoke, it wasn’t loud, but it carried:
I don’t know how to do this. You were supposed to be here longer. To teach me more. To… make me better than this.

No one answered. The only reply was the steady flicker of the flame, the way it caught on the electrum bands of the weapon.

He took one step back, swallowing against the tightness in his throat, and joined his mother at the flame.

Omega Squad closed in around them — not in formation, but in solidarity. And for the first time since the news, Connel realized that the only way forward was through this..

Coren Starchaser • Brooke Waters • Anyone and Everyone feel free​

 

[Darth Spectris]

Katherine Holt

There was little to say. In a moment of consideration, Spectris turned his head slightly toward the grieving knight. Any other day...

"Don't let my presence bother you, Jedi. The Force has lost dearly."

 

[Drystan Creed]

ALDERAAN

"Rest easy, old man."

The voice came from within the crowd, low and casual.

A man in a plain black suit and matching tie stood among the mourners, sunglasses masking his eyes, a vertical scar cutting just beneath the left lens. The disguise didn't try too hard—it was less about hiding and more about looking formal. If anyone recognized him, so be it. He didn't much care.

A cigarette rested between his teeth, smoke curling upward as his gaze fixed on the memorial. He hadn't known Caltin Vanagor long— Connel Vanagor his son, more so. But Caltin had been there when Drystan needed answers after Woostri, and had helped him find them.

Electric Judgment. Without Caltin's guidance, Drystan would never have mastered it to the degree he did. It served him well in his days as a Jedi—funny, in hindsight, to think of it as "Judgment." Was this what fate deemed a fitting verdict for the man? He smothered the urge to scoff.

Coruscant tried to rise in his mind, and he forced it back down. This wasn't the place for scenes. From inside his coat, he drew a small crystal, alive with golden sparks that danced and arced harmlessly along its surface. A gift—part tribute, part reminder of a breakthrough long past. He set it gently at the memorial.

His datapad chimed a moment later. Another job. DeathDrop work. Credits to earn, a blade to keep sharp.

Time to move. With his newfound life, lingering was just another way to invite trouble.

 

[Kyric]

Hidden upon a tiny beach trapped between the bluffs, far from those gathered to celebrate the late Jedi Master, Kyric stood knee-deep in the crystalline waters wrapped around the island. His single eye trailed the horizon line for some time, shifting from where sky met sea only to watch the largest, most boisterous waves crawl closer to the shore.

There were few such waves this day. The sky was calm overhead, nary a cloud in sight. And the vast ocean reflected its demeanor.

Kyric stood as his Clan's traditions dictated. Garbed in inky black robes of the darkest Atrisian night. Both a long and short blade hung from his left hip, while his lightsaber sat on the other. Henna had fussed over his hair for most of the morning, exhausting herself over his coarse, unkempt mane in an effort to prepare him for the ceremony. She knew her ward hadn't the help he needed to honor his father so long ago.

Only a boy, then, Kyric couldn't have known how to mentally or physically prepare for loss. All these years later and he still didn't, but she eased those burdens in the way only a mother could. She prepared his robes and sharpened his blades no differently than she would've Ikuma or Inara. Her words, normally so full of unbridled grace and untampered vigor, were soft-spoken, driven not by zealous fury, but compassion.

"Hesitation is defeat," she said to him amid his departure.

The words were not a warning, but a precaution. To live and be even in these harshest moments.

Even from this distance, Kyric felt grief intermingle with peace. Death wasn't the question, but one of many answers the Jedi were forced to endure. Those who stood against the darkness knew the fragility of life better than most. It should've made saying goodbye easier.

It never did.

A powerful wind passed over Kyric. Behind it, a wave rolled closer, growing in size until it dwarfed the Jedi Knight. He watched it draw nearer, lost in the significance of a rogue wave on an otherwise peaceful sea.

Kyric smiled softly. He shifted his foot through the surf. One hand took hold of Resolute's sheath, while the other wrapped around the hilt. The wave drew closer with each heartbeat. He felt the relentless pull of the sea, but the Jedi Knight remained still. His hardened stare tracked its passage until it towered over him like the maw of some ancient beast lost to the distant depths.

Resolute sang.

Silver flashed through the air and met the wave head on. The sea sundered beneath the strike, the wave split in two. Rushing water soared overhead and fell in tiny droplets from above. A mighty wound cut the surface of the otherwise calm ocean, but within seconds, the water surged back into place. Calm returned to the steady thrum of a short-lived rain beneath the gleaming sun above.

Kyric sheathed his blade and bowed low.

"Thank you, Master Vanagor."

---

Tags: Caltin Vanagor
Honorable Mentions: Henna Ashina

 

[Shan]

Outfit

Shan stood off to the side in thought, his hands linked together as his gaze fell onto the ground beneath his feet, hanging his head low. He had not been there for Coruscant. He would not have changed anything. That did not mean he did not carry any shame on his shoulders. More and more weight was being added. More he had lost. He had not been close to Caltin. Not overly. But Shan had admired the man. He could do what Shan could do not. Caltin was able to be the Jedi the Galaxy needed. The Mirialan could not step up to that call himself.

He was tired. More tired than he could have imagined as he rubbed the bags under his eyes, letting out a short sigh. There was much on Shan's mind. Too much. The Doctor's gaze turned towards the weapon in his hand. The Lightsaber that had once belonged to a Jedi. Shan made his way over towards the memorial, gently placing the Lightsaber onto it. He was not the type of man who deserved to use that kind of weapon. Not anymore. A Jedi did not turn their back on the Galaxy. They became the hero it needed. They were like Caltin. Not him.

With that, he returned to where he was stood. There were faces here he recognised. Some he didn't. But they were all brought here for the same reason. To mourn a great man who had been lost. An inspiration that even in death would shape Shan's opinion on what he should do. On what the future should hold for the Galaxy. But for now? The future could wait. This moment was what mattered to him, as he adjusted his tie and kept his gaze low.