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

[Joran Del-Finn]

​

Joran placed an empty bourbon glass at the foot of Caltin's memorial. From a pocket Joran took out a small sliver flask and carefully poured a finger of caramel colored liquid into the glass. He stowed the silver flask back in his pocket, reached into a different pocket, his hand returning with a different flask, this one one gold in color.

Joran carefully unscrewed the top. "One last drink together, mate, yeah?" Joran gently tapped his flask to the glass before bringing it to his lips and taking a hearty swig of the contents inside. "Don't worry, just tea for you." He said absently to the glass as though Caltin was sitting right there with him.

"Wish we'd had a chance for a proper one." Joran lamented evenly. Caltin was not exactly Joran's friend or maybe Joran wasn't Caltin's friend, it was hard to say. The two of them were related, however distantly, but not quite distant enough to prevent a family resemblance that was strikingly similar that they once upon a time could've been mistake as twins or clones.

No, they were not exactly friends. They shared blood, love for a certain Korunai padawan, and occasionally a drink. All that and the way Caltin's death had stung, led Joran to conclude that they must've been closer to friends than he would've admitted while Caltin was alive. Caltin was a good man. Strong, perceptive, loyal, forgiving, a true Jedi Master and that was why Joran had been keen to place walls up around Caltin, though those walls had started to weaken over the years.

Joran was not always a lawful man nor a good man like Cal and so he kept his Jedi dealings to a minimum where he could, well, and the fact that in the past he had allowed himself to grow to close to a Jedi and through that became all too aware that these sort of memorials were too often how a Jedi's life ended

"Fight's over now, yeah, mate? You rest now, hey. You fucking earned it."

 

[Desbre Gensan]

​

Location: Shadow Sanctuary, Alderaan​

Equipment: Silver Sigil, inherited lightsaber, light-filtering lenses, Hush-style comlink, aquata breather, liquid-cable launcher, stim pills, nutrient/food pack​

Tag: Milya Vondar​

​

The Force was a raging, churning sea—darkness spiraling outward across the galaxy. Even in the Unknown Regions, tucked away on a quiet world at the edge of nowhere, Des felt it. Then, cutting through the storm, a flare of Ashla's light: brilliant, familiar as breathing. And then… silence​

​

Caltin Vanagor had returned to the Force.​

​

She'd gone numb.​

​

Quietly, she rose to tell one other—@Milya Vondar—and began preparations to leave their little sanctuary. The journey back to the wider galaxy was somber. By the time they reached the Holonet, the message had already found her, telling her where to go. She hadn't needed it. She'd already known.​

​

The once-boxy Loronar B-7 transport, modified beyond recognition, dropped out of hyperspace. Its hull had been reshaped into sleek, aerodynamic lines for better flight profile, the back half nearly all engine and drive cone. Standard components, save for the tweaks this former racer had made.​

​

High-speed reentry far overhead resembled a shooting star—falling, falling—before winking out, as his light had.​

​

Des emerged first, dressed in robes of her own design, crafted for this occasion. Her long white hair spilled in waves to her mid-back, left free with strategic highlights of electric blue. She wore robes the color of charcoal, trimmed in sapphire blues and snow whites, with a diaphanous white outer layer. The sleeves flared open almost to her knees, only partially attached at the shoulders, leaving her arms bare.​

​

There lay the tribal tattoo from Kashyyyk—a gift she'd hardly felt worthy of receiving.​

​

Here the Force swirled and stirred, light and dark. Gold and blue against black and red, where many had gathered. Most she didn't recognize. The Omegas, though—she knew some from battles fought and blood shed. Her mind wheeled back to that cursed swamp, the ones she and Caltin had saved. And the ones nobody could have saved. There they were, still standing in the gap. A shield. And him... he had been a rock she could put her back against.​

​

Her jaw tightened, vision blurring.​

​

That steady reassurance was gone.​

​

She'd tried not to think about it during the days it took to journey back to civilization, focusing only on the Force and reaching Alderaan. But now memory came flooding back. The first time she'd met him—a literal different life and lifetime ago on Yavin VIII, a general lessons class. She'd been lost then, aching for a real teacher, a real Master. Later, by what seemed a twist of fate, another class where he'd been there to lead. She had been massively overqualified but hungry for anything she might learn.​

​

What followed were lessons, missions, battles. Lives saved. Lives lost. Healing. Perspective. Clarity. Connection. Even love anew.​

​

He'd become the rock she could put her back against. Shelter in the storm. The mountain retreat. One of the few who ever seemed to truly see her, meet her where she was. Caltin wasn't just her teacher, her Master. He was family.​

​

Standing before the memorial stone, her tears blurred it from view. She made no sound, no display; grief was not something she performed. She'd lost too much already—family, homeworld, whole pieces of her life. This was another loss, but one she could accept.​

​

He'd given his life freely, for something greater. That mattered. That was enough.​

​

A small smile broke through, fleeting but real. He had taught her better than despair. She could almost hear him now. Her fingers found the padawan braid in her pocket, the one he'd cut with his saber after their time on Dagobah.​

​

More memories—Ilum. Circumtore. So many others.​

​

By then the tears had dried, leaving her silver eyes red-rimmed and puffy, her mouth still drawn in sorrow. Awareness returned to find the Omegas clustered around someone.​

​

It was strange to see so many Jedi in one place, yet expected. The numbers had been thinner when she was a new padawan, but these troubled times seemed to breed more Force-users. And it seemed this man had made quite an impact. The ripples were still expanding.​

​

He'd left a legacy behind.​

​

Would anyone even notice or care for her passing? Besides Milya, she mused. Des shook her head. Probably not.​

​

The thought twisted in her gut — because you've been gone too long. She'd run from the noise, the politics, the endless demands. Maybe she'd needed to. But standing here now, in his shadow, she couldn't pretend it hadn't cost her something.​

​

Not unless she did something about it. Sitting on the sidelines had never been Caltin's strong suit. It hadn't been hers either, once. Someone had to carry the light forward, shine it in dark places—even if that meant being swallowed by the darkness. The smallest candle holds back the night. Hope, love, joy, compassion, healing, understanding, protection, knowledge, freedom. Standing against tyranny, oppression, persecution, annihilation, ignorance, dishonor. Those were the things he'd stood for, and she did too.​

​

That was the compass.​

​

More importantly, he'd never hesitated to lead. Leaders lead. And he'd always lead from the front. So had she when the occasion called for it. Deneba being just one example of many. She nodded again. "I hear you," she murmured aloud, and then placed the long, thin white braid on the memorial's base with other offerings. She hated to leave it behind, but of there were a place or reason to, it was with him, for him.​

​

Still, no-one's ever really gone..​

​

Stepping back, she found a perch to sit unobtrusively. Just observing for the time being.​

​

She'd come to say goodbye, but would leave with something heavier—and sharper—in her hands: the work he'd left unfinished.​

​

 

[Nathan Bloodscrawl]

Wearing: Nathan's Robes

Armed With: Nathan's Jedi Lightsaber

Arrived in: Heavy Sniping Interceptor



The Shadow Enclave beckoned as Nathan's Heavy Sniping Interceptor set down in a landing area outside it.

Nathan Bloodscrawl stepped down, hood up, his stoic, grim face hiding how conflicted he truly was.

Caltin Vanagor was dead. He had not known him long, but he had known him enough to develop a healthy respect for his capability.

He was also present at his knighting, along with Valery Noble , and Nathan felt Caltin deserved the respect of one of the last people Caltin had ever been present to help Knight showing up to his wake.

He showed up in the same cheap gear he had worn when he was knighted, wearing the lightsaber that had turned out to be his Jedi Knight Lightsaber. One of the few he felt at ease displaying in front of other Jedi.

The destruction of so many records at Coruscant had ensured that the exact circumstances of how he had been recruited into the NJO (Or even joined The Galactic Alliance) would never be uncovered.

He was a perfect blank.

All he was thinking about, though, was how Caltin wouldn't have needed to die if the Alliance leadership hadn't been utterly worthless. If the Masters he had bought time to flee for their lives had taken greater steps to make the temple more defensible, having actual military grade defenses. Treating their situation as an actual wartime crisis rather than business as usual.

The most frustrating part of this, was knowing that even if he had brought it up, actively lobbied for it, he would have been dismissed as a simple warmonger.

A thought he absolutely loathed crossed his mind. One he refused to truly consider.

Were the Ashlans right?

NO, he thought fiercely as he headed into the sanctuary. He refused to ever give the Ashlan Jedi any legitimacy. They had deserved to fall. Deserved to be forgotten for their false Goddess alone.

He was somewhat behind when he spotted Connel Vanagor and his family. Nathan didn't realize it, but his internal anxiety was so intense it radiated off him.

He kept his distance as Connel and his family paid their respects.

"He deserved better..." Nathan said in a whisper. "He deserved to come home to his family..."

But as usual...the Force didn't give a chit... he thought bitterly.

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

A L D E R A A N
SHADOW SANCTUARY​

Faint snowfall preceeded a blanket of mist, and from it stepped the Lion King of Midvinter, clad in muted funeral attire. His presence at the memorial of his oath-brother was to be expected, but he had not come alone. Behind him marched a dozen of his kinsmen, each shouldering the weight of a magnificent bronze statue sculpted in the likeness of the deceased.

The procession came to a halt where offerings and prayers were spoken in hushed voices, at which point the High King got down on one knee whilst his countrymen placed the statue at the designated spot. They did not remain to pay their respects, but rather stepped back into the lingering mist before it dissipated which sent them back home across the stars, leaving their sovereign to mourn amongst friends.

Thurion did not look up for some time, but had to fortify himself first. The wound was still too great, the pain still too raw. Hesitantly did he raise his gaze to see that stoic, firm expression of his brother. A rock in all but name. His rock, as he was to so many. After the disappearance of his wife, it was Caltin who frequently checked up on him; reined in the madness of grief that had threatened to overtake him. Countless were their victories even in the most desperate of hours, the Lion and the Rock carving their names upon their foes on numberless fields of battle.

Caltin's loyalty and love for him in life had been absolute. And so, at his brother's passing, Thurion would honour him in the manner befitting of great heroes and kings among his people by immortalising him in steel and stone.

"Farewell, beloved brother," he said with such finality. "The galaxy, and my sorry existence, is a far darker place without you. I will look after your next of kin, I swear it. They will have a home on Midvinter and want for nothing. The name of Vanagor shall be spoken with reverence in our halls until the end of days."

The Lion wiped his tears even as more fell at Caltin's feet.

"And if you should see her... Tell her I love her, won't you? Keep her company until I arrive..."

 

[Milya Vondar]

When they learned of Caltin Vanagor passing she could not help but be stunned, yet not surprised he had perished in the defense of others. Was it the duty of a Jedi? Yes, but even moreso it was something part of Caltin's being. He was more than willing to put his life on the line for time and again. As she stepped off the ship with Desbre Gensan taking the lead Milya cast her silver gaze upward at the sky before turning toward the woman in front of her. Once nearly killed by the Bryn'adul, only to be taken in by Des and Caltin she found herself a new master and a dear friend.

Thoughts continued to flow quietly as she stepped light behind Des, a quiet acknowledgement that Des had lost far more than a former master, a comrade in the truest sense, but also family in a father figure. He had been a rock, unyielding supporting those that needed it when they were the most broken, but none more than Des even if he never knew the full weight but Milya knew.

The echani woman took a breath and it hitched, only slightly she wore a black set of robes made by Des for this occasion. A final farewell to their master. She came to a stop, letting Des go ahead and have a private moment, a place she would never intrude upon. While she waited her gaze roamed taking in the assembled guests. Sith, Jedi wanderers, and Mandalorian's it was a fitting legacy of a man that enemies and friends alike paid respects. Finally when Des rose, she turned forward. Stepping lightly once more to the memorial before kneeling in front of it.

From inside her robes, she pulled out the one thing of hers should attribute to him. The very first lightsaber she had built with Des and Caltin, and she laid it on the ground in front of the stone. She bowed her head and spoke barely above a wisper. "Thank you for everything Master. Rest now, I'll be her rock when she needs it." she lightly laid her hand upon the stone before rising and turning to following after Des.

​

 

[Feydrik Munin]

WE WILL MEET AGAIN, JEDI​

That hateful, awful man stood behind Thurion Heavenshield , perhaps the only true good man left in the galaxy.

"His quality was known amongst his friends as well, I see."

The Crusader burned worlds. Killed hundreds. Slain many of a Jedi. But had only been truly and utterly defeated by a single opponent, and caused Feydrik to train harder, to study harder. In a way, Caltin had caused the warrior to push past his limits. Become deadlier. Become stronger. More experienced.

And in a way, that sinister sensation he had when standing near Jedi increased. He was a killer, a soldier, a warrior- but of all the things, was a slayer of Jedi. Which made his presence all the more foreboding, sinister. As if he was seeing who was left to be considered strong, worthy foes.

And looking around- none present on this sanctuary seemed to match his fallen foe. He approached the visage of Caltin, the memorial, and produced something in his hands. Something that would likely offend most of the Jedi present that read a history book. The Mandalorians were infamous for their Jedi fighting skills- the most famous among them killed Jedi bare handed, and it took a great Jedi, a great warrior like Revan to cease his people's onslaught all those years ago. The most effective tool that Mandalorians found for fighting Jedi early on was not some magical stone. It was not advanced training with swords, blades, or hammers. It was- a shotgun. And the shotguns had killed hundreds, if not thousands of Jedi over the centuries of warfare between the Jedi and Mandalorians. So when Feydrik produced a single shell-

A shotgun shell, engraved with Caltin's name. Taken from the chamber of Feydrik's terrifying weapon. The shell meant for a Jedi, meant for a foe. For the worthiest. And with it, it would never find it's target, never find it's mark or purpose. He laid the shell near the other offerings.

Feydrik chuckled, unable to help himself. He pulled the cloak over his shoulder, his helmet shifting as he grinned.

"Who's next, I wonder?"

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

Journal Entry:

Personal Log – Michael Angellus
Alderaan – Memorial Gathering

I thought I was ready for today.
Turns out… I wasn’t.

I’ve been in crowded hangars, busy marketplaces, full-up military briefings — but nothing could’ve prepared me for the sheer number of people who showed up here. Not just Jedi. Not just soldiers. People from worlds I’ve never even set foot on. People who had no obligation to be here at all. They came because they knew him.

Everywhere I turned, I heard stories about my great uncle. Little ones, big ones, ones where he was larger-than-life and others where he was just a quiet, steady presence. I was already struggling to keep up with it all when I noticed a Mirialan woman approaching me from across the courtyard.

At first, I didn’t recognize her — not until I saw the pendant resting against her robes. A stylized crest I’d only ever seen in holos. It clicked. An Organa. On Alderaan, that’s more than a name. That’s legacy carved into the bones of the planet.

She didn’t lead with formality. No titles, no ceremony. Just kind words — warm, sincere — about what Caltin had meant to her and her family even if not directly. His presence on Alderaan clearly brought a sense of safety. That… landed. Hard. I told her it meant a lot to me, and that it would to my cousin Connel and my aunt Chrysa as well.

Thank you so much, your Highness. I know my cousin, my aunt also feel this gratitude.

Who cares what I called her, she’s a sovereign, she’s basically royalty and approached me, me. I appreciate it.
I meant it. Every word.

But later, standing near the statue Thurion Heavenshield had brought — Force, a statue — something started gnawing at me. I hated myself for it, but there it was.

Where was this for my dad?
Where was the crowd, the memorial, the pomp?

Admiral Liram Angellus gave everything for the Alliance. My father. And when he was gone, it felt like the galaxy barely paused before moving on.

I tried to shove it down — this wasn’t the time. Today was for my uncle, and I’m glad he’s getting this. He deserves every light, every voice, every memory carved in stone.

But still… that was my dad.

End log.



TAG: Acier Moonbound | Amani Serys

This is where he is speaking

 

[Darth Spectris]

A shotgun shell? What a fascinating choice of memorial token. Should Spectris, too, leave something? He'd only really heard stories of Caltin, never had the opportunity to cross blades with him, so there was a dearth of sentimental artifacts that really could be offered. That was hardly a problem, was it? Spectris hadn't come for the man, he came for what Caltin represented. It was mourning, in a way, what could have been. What heights it could have driven the dark and light to, wherever their adherents crossed his path.

Tapping a finger against the back of his hand, the idea strikes him. Removing the small decorations from his head dress, fragments of a shattered lightsaber crystal fashioned into statement jewelry, Spectris placed them neatly next to the shell. Fitting, he thought, to have on display two of the most deadly things a Jedi might face in their career made useless at the foot of the memorial. Though precious and few, he had enough of his master's crystal left to make more in the wake of this gesture, but nobody needed to know that.

Satisfied with the offering, Spectris returns to contemplating at a short distance. Nobody wants to rub shoulders with their enemy, literally or otherwise.

 

[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]

A deep breath.

A sigh.

It was starting to hit him.

SO many people were here. Wait? Is that a Mandalorian with a shotgun shell? He didn’t have to look the way of “Michael” or any member of Omega Squad, they were paying attention, but he looked to be there to pay respects. So Connel was able to let it go, at least for the moment. The man was showing respect, he deserved the respect in return. ( Feydrik Munin )

Uncle Thurion brought in a stature... he needed to walk over and look at it for the moment. He would have stayed, but there was something else. He sensed something “familiar” a hint of the essence of his father. Not directly, but in teaching, like he could sense with Michael. There were two of them. He could sense it.

Luckily they were barely steps away. An Arkanian and an Echani. Michael was pointing at the Arkanian and nodding. Did he recognize her?

Hi, Connel Vanagor. My father, he taught you didn’t he? The both of you? My friend over there, he’s the team leader of Omega Squad. He is doing all he can to signal that he knows you.

Is that a Sith over there? He looked like a Sith ( Darth Spectris )

Coren Starchaser • Brooke Waters • Thurion Heavenshield • Desbre Gensan • Milya Vondar • Anyone and Everyone feel free​

 

[Braze]

TAGS:

​

Braze should have been there...should have stood among the mourners, honoring the man who had once been both comrade and teacher. Braze could not be there in truth....not without drawing the noose tighter around his own neck. His captor's hold was a constant weight, an unseen leash that yanked him away from friends, family, and any life worth claiming. Attending openly was impossible; even this brief slip from the watchful gaze felt like breathing stolen air.

To stay free, he had to stay absent. And so Braze came as a shadow, slipping the bars of his cage only long enough to steal this moment.

Grabbed entirely in black, he kept to the edges, unseen but watching. Caltin Vanagor had given him more than lessons. Without his support, Braze might never have learned the intricacies of weapon craft, or the satisfaction of building a saber that was worth more in artistic value than anything he'd ever owned. Caltin's teachings had taught him more than how to fight. He'd taught him how to survive.

Now the man who had helped shaped those skills lay still, and Braze could not even place a hand upon the casket. He watched from the shadows as the memorial services unfolded.

A Jedi Shadow was not meant to be seen; and today, he would vanish entirely.

 

[Starlin Rand]

Caltin Vanagor was dead? Damn.

It wasn't often that Starlin heard of the death of a legend. The news always came as a shock. Even though they were all merely mortal, somehow he never expected the great lights to go out. And Caltin, by all accounts, had been a blazing inferno. His exploits in battle were famous for a reason.

Though he never had the chance to properly get to know the man, Starlin came to pay his respects. He didn't have a token or other remembrance to place at the base of the memorial. But he did have something else to offer.

"Should any disturb this tomb, Ashla, let it be their doom."

The air hummed with sorcery as he uttered the words. A spell of protection, the kind placed upon the tombs of kings to prevent their desecration. Just something to keep the Jedi's foes from trying anything in poor taste. Not that Caltin had that many enemies.

Caltin Vanagor​

 

[Aris Noble]

This wasn't what he'd expected.

Caltin had died. Of all the Jedi in Coruscant's fight, he hadn't expected Master Vanagor to be one who fell. He was strong. Aris stared up at the the statue, or more eye level now. Caltin wasn't able to see that Aris was almost as tall as him now. Or that he'd figured out so much more on how to use the style Caltin had taught him. Or-

A bittersweet smile formed on the young man's face. That's what death did. It was final, it ended so much before it could come to the end people wanted.

He reached out, settling down the hilt of an empty lightsaber onto the statue's hip. Fastened it even before he stepped back to stand beside Thurion Heavenshield . Aris said nothing, he didn't have the words to say in a moment like this. He didn't want Thurion to remain alone, however. Nor did Aris himself want to be.

 

[Jand Talo]

Jand walked through the throng of gathered. His hood up, his hands held within the long sleeves of his Jedi robes, his gray eyes downcast. The news of his instructor's passing had been like a gut-punch, an eventuality that seemed unlikely, given Caltin Vanagor's strength and ability. Still, if there was one thing Jand had learned, it was that nothing was certain, nor taken for granted - especially when it came to the Force.

The memorial was nice. It felt appropriate, though Jand wondered if Caltin might have thought it unnecessary.

Probably.

When Jand stood at the base of the memorial, he paused, glancing to others around. He didn't like to express himself so openly, to show weakness and emotion, but given the circumstances and loss, he had worked at swallowing his Nagai pride. There were some that he remained uncertain about, but for the most part Jand trusted those around.

"I feel uncomfortable knowing I was unable to stand beside you in the final battle," Jand said in a low voice. "However, as you said, I am simply focusing on what I can do and not what I cannot. I am unable to change the past, so with your lessons I will change the future."

Jand reached into the robe, he pulled out a Tehk'la blade. A Nagai weapon. A weapon made personally, by Jand, one that had been with him from childhood.

"For what you taught me, for not judging me, for showing me the way of a Jedi; I offer my personal blade."

The Nagai placed the serrated and wavy blade against the memorial. For those who knew, a Nagai willingly giving away his Tehk'la was... well, almost unheard of. A warrior culture did not willingly part with weapons, let alone to someone unable to use them.

A moment passed.

"Rest, Caltin. The burden has been taken from you now."

Jand stood straight and pulled down the hood, as he let it settle around his shoulders. He spoke louder, to those behind - or, more precisely, to one individual who had joined the gathered--

"I promised Master Vanagor that I would always offer an opponent opportunity to surrender," Jand turned and stared at the Sith among them. "Consider the offer made. However, in the interest of maintaining honor for my Master's memorium, I will extend the opportunity for you to depart... immediately."

The Jedi Knight didn't reach for his lightsaber, he simply turned and stared at Spectris.

He would not have allowed the Sith here.

Neither will I.

Caltin Vanagor | Darth Spectris​

 

[Darth Spectris]

Jand Talo

Spectris raised his head at the... offer, hardly returning the glance. Another slight turn of the head, as offered before, speaking softly, "And you'd interrupt this lovely ceremony to... make a point? Will you drive out the Mandalorian, as well," Spectris asks, motioning toward Feydrik Munin , "Master Vanagor held the respect of many - I'm hardly surprised your enemies are among them. Is there really trouble to be made over a kind gesture, conducted peacefully?"

Spectris simply maintains his hands folded in front of him. There's no reason to reach for a blade or the Force here, we can be gentlemanly, surely, he thinks. How unbecoming for a Jedi to strike out in anger.

After a pause, he adds, "Besides, I'm unarmed. You wouldn't strike me down without the means to defend myself, would you?" True to his word, Spectris slowly draws back the ragged lengths of his trailing black robe, revealing no saber at either side. This was a memorial, after all, not a tournament bout. Surely Master Vanagor wouldn't approve of the chaos erupting at his Sanctuary. How very un-Jedi-like.

 

[Mathieu Brion]

Location: Shadow Sancturay
Tags: Caltin Vanagor

It Feels Like An Eternity​

This wasn't easy. Far from it.

For a long time - far longer than he cared to admit - Mathieu had isolated himself from most of the galaxy. While his day-to-day life may not have been all too peaceful, it was far removed from the grand conflicts that he had once been so involved in. Few things could have drawn him out of his isolation. He shied away from the obvious causes that his former self would have rallied to without hesitation. But when Chaussidier told him of what had happened on Coruscant, he knew that he had to reemerge.

Hidden under a deep hood, Mathieu looked out over the crowd as he entered the chambers. 'Hidden' may not have been a very accurate term considering his stature - but then, most of those in attendance, he did not recognise. And those whom he knew had not seen him in a long time. His eyes lingered on a few of the figures there. Fond memories of friendship and camaraderie intermingled with painful ones of war and battle. It would not be long before he tore his gaze away from those in the crowd to recenter himself.

Silent steps carried the large Morellian close to the memorial. From underneath his robes, he produced a small piece of Wroshyr tree bark. "I thought you would like something from our old home." he spoke softly with a low voice. His words were not intended for anyone but Caltin - and he was with the Force. Mathieu's gaze moved up to the memorial after having lingered on the bark for a few moments. Finally, he placed it next to a bouquet of flowers.

Sadness etched itself into his features as he stood with his gaze fixed on the memorial. The two of them had not known each other that well - at least from a traditional point of view. But to Mathieu, it felt like he knew the legendary Jedi Master well. He had watched Caltin climb the massive trees of Kashyyyk. He had listened to his hearty laughter echoing through the halls of the Silver Rest. He had found guidance in his wise words. And during times of war and strife, he had always felt bolstered, knowing that Jedi Master Caltin Vanagor was fighting on his side. Caltin had been an cherished constant - an anchor in a tumultuous world. But now, he was gone. A hollow breath escaped him. This was it. This was goodbye.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I missed you?" his words were but a whisper now. Another hallow breath left him - this was hard. Mathieu's eyes were filled with emotion. A deep sense of fondness and appreciation for the man struck him alongside pain and feelings of loss. Mathieu clenched his fists tightly, struggling to recompose himself.

With a deep bow, he then turned for a hasty retreat. If this was what returning felt like, he never wanted to return again.

 

[Feydrik Munin]

​

“I’m armed.” Feydrik said towards the Sith. Then his head turned towards the Jedi.

“And I’d like to see him try. But I think it’s best to avoid the idea. Even I would not stoop to violence here.”

He looked at the Jedi, the Nagai who spoke against the Sith. Feydrik grinned under his helmet. He relished in violence. In war. In chaos.

But perhaps, not here.

 

[Valery Noble]

Valery had chosen to wear her more traditional Jedi robes for the occasion, the deep brown fabric settling heavily across her shoulders. The murmur of the gathered guests carried over the gentle sound of the ocean, a sound she knew had once brought Caltin peace. She had not known him as long as some here, but she had fought alongside him often enough to understand the depth of his commitment and the steadiness of his presence.

Her steps were slow as she crossed the sand toward where Thurion knelt before the statue. For a moment she lingered a few paces behind him, giving space to his grief, her own gaze fixed on the bronze likeness of the man they had both respected. Then, closing the remaining distance, she reached out and placed a steady hand against his back.

"Thurion," she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth reserved only for her dearest friends and family, "He would be proud of what you've brought here for him. And of the words you've spoken." Her eyes moved again to the statue, a faint, pained smile touching her lips. "The galaxy feels smaller without him. But what he built, the people he shaped and stood for… that will last."

She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, standing beside him without pressing for more words. Instead, her gaze shifted to Aris Noble , and she couldn't help but offer him a motherly smile.

A way of gauging how he was holding up.

"Hey, sweetie," is all she managed.

Thurion Heavenshield Caltin Vanagor ​

 

[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]

Things seemed to quiet down, and several Jedi were looking at him. Master Valery Noble was there, consoling uncle Thurion, that was good.


…I’m not here because I wanted to be.

Let’s start with that truth.

There are Jedi in this Order far more eloquent than me. Masters who can shape words into light and let them rise above pain. People who knew him from a time when I was still finding my feet.

But I’m here because no one else should have to be.

Because if my father taught me anything, it’s that when there’s a weight that needs lifting, you don’t wait for someone else to do it.

You step forward. You carry it.

A heartbeat and a sigh.

So I’ll carry this now.

Caltin Vanagor wasn’t just a Jedi Master. He wasn’t just a warrior or a Watchman or the last one standing in places most of us pray we never see.

He was a shield.

Not because he wanted to be admired, he didn’t care about adulation. Not because he thought he was better, he considered himself “just another Jedi”, taught me to live that way. He was who he was because someone had to be. Because every time people were falling, he made sure there was something—someone—between them and the dark. Not because no one else could, but because if he did, then someone better could do something more important… someone in a better position could make the play that wins the day… it’s who he was.

He fought so others didn’t have to. He endured what would have broken most of us, and still found a way to offer hope instead of hate. And if that’s not the Force in motion, I don’t know what is.

Looking out over the crowd, he strengthened his resolve.

You all know the stories. The battles. The victories and losses. The moments that reshaped worlds. But the version I knew…
…was quiet.

He was the kind of strong that never needed to shout. The kind of good that didn’t ask for attention. And the kind of father who believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.

I spent years thinking I was in his shadow.

But the truth is… he was never casting one.

He was building shelter. For me. For all of us. So we could grow. So we could rise. So we could be more. He believed in everyone here more than you could possibly imagine.

Another heartbeat.

There’s a lesson in that. Not just about strength, but about presence. About showing up, every single time, for people who may never know your name but will live because of your choice to stand firm.

That’s what he leaves behind.

Not just a legacy of power, but of protection.

His voice cracked slightly, but steadied.

He’s gone. I won’t pretend otherwise. But if you look around—
At the lives saved.
At the students who train because he defended that right.
At the peace he bled for.

Then you’ll understand.

He’s still with us. In every act of courage. In every hand extended to shield another. In every Jedi who chooses to endure instead of retreat.

That’s how we honor him. Not with silence. Not with sorrow. But by honoring each other.
But by standing like he stood.
By shielding like he shielded.
By believing—as he always did—that one Jedi can make a difference.

Quieter now, he bowed his head.

He was my father. He was our rock.

And I will spend every breath I have making sure his legacy is not just remembered… but lived.

Thank you.

He turned to step away, but stopped. Pausing momentarily, shaking his head, he stopped, and turned back to those gathered.

I meant it when I said “…I’m not here because I wanted to be.” I don’t say this as a Jedi, I say this as a son.

There are Masters in this Temple who could’ve delivered a thousand wiser words. I’m not that. I’m not here to dress this up in platitudes or turn pain into poetry.

I’m here because he’s gone. Because Caltin Vanagor—my father, your shield, our last line—gave everything so we could still be standing.

And now he’s not.

He looked up and around at everyone again, brow furrowed, fully aware he was about to say something he was going to regret. So he didn’t. He just thought it to himself.

All of you out there… not even having the guts to show up here… “You’ll carve his face into stone. You’ll write his name into some archive, call him a “paragon” of the Jedi Way.

But where were you?”

Where were they? When he—when we all—stood alone on the steps of Coruscant as the Empire bled the light dry?

You left him alone. And still he stood.

He was angry, not at anyone here, not for any really rational reason, it was all starting to hit him. Reminding him of the fact that he watched his father fall. Watching a man who had all of his strength, ability and reputation all around his will... fall. He was angry at himself. Anger gave way to grief. A moment of silence. Then... soft footsteps outside… looking at Jand Talo … looking at Darth Spectris … looking at Feydrik Munin …

Thank you for standing up for him… let’em stay…

Coren Starchaser • Brooke Waters • Thurion Heavenshield • Desbre Gensan • Milya Vondar • Anyone and Everyone feel free​

 

[Azurine Varek]

Remember The Fallen

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

"Alright then, just don't let the shuttle door hit you where mother nature split you," she joked and bolted out of after him, hoping to lighten her own fears and maybe dispel some of his grumpiness. [X]

"If you are determined to latch on to me, you are going to do exactly what I say, when I say it. If I tell you to attack, you attack, if I tell you to cover, you cover, if I tell you to run, you run. No comments, no questions, just “Yes, Master” if you understand." [X]

The Repulse of Force and electrical energy was immense. That added with the incoming power of the falling piece of moon created a shockwave. The big man using the last of his strength to push" at the chunk of rock, if he did not outright break it down, Vanagor would at least "redirect" the trajectory. [X]​

"You're not going out like this, old man, not if I can help it!" [X]

---
​

Azurine stood just beyond the edge of the gathered circle at the Shadow Sanctuary, her shoulders drawn forward as though she might shrink from the weight of history itself. Memories played through her mind, like a broken holo on repeat. Faces she knew, and many more that she didn't, passed before her clouded gaze. Half of them barely registered, moving almost like time had slowed.

No one needed to know that it had been her transmission that brought them here. All that mattered was that others had come in the first place. Maybe, she would approach closer when those who needed it most had had their time. Time Azzie didn't want to interfere with or take away from. She closed her eyes, chin trembling ever so slightly.

Though she noticed Kell Masaara as she approached, Azzie had no words to respond. At least not then, and likely not for a while. It was as though the words that went into her ears were broken into a language she didn't know and drowned out by the rest of the world.

---​

"Excuse me, Master Vanagor, I know you said to wait for questions, and I don't expect you to answer right now, but I'm pretty curious about why you used a lightsaber in one of your initial demonstrations. I thought this was hand to hand, so was that a different form of Broken Gate?" [X]

"Ice Cream" was stopping him again. Another question.

Oh… okay!

"Actually, I'm glad you stopped me on that. It has nothing to do with Broken Gate, I just wanted to see who was paying attention and would work up the courage to ask me about it." [X]​

---​

"Your call, but the role of Warden is something a grumpy old man like me fits right into. Right "Ice Cream"?" He wasn't looking at her, but she would know who he was talking to in that last quip. Even the smirk. [X]​

She had agreed then, but never had the chance to voice it out loud.

​

---​

She watched as Connel Vanagor 's hand hovered above his father's recovered lightsaber. Just above. Unwilling to touch yet. Azzie didn't move. Tears didn't yet fall, though the pain had gathered at the rims of her eyes. Not a sob, nothing dramatic. Just hollow ache pressed between her ribs that made each breath harder to take.

So many others stood in silence, came to reflect, or speak respects. In a brief puff of snow, Thurion Heavenshield had arrived with a statue. One that Azzie wouldn't have expected given how Caltin would have reacted to such a thing... if he were still among them—

The anger patterned in Connel's aura spiked in a way that struck at her heart like a jagged blade. It was clear in her sight, flashing around him and unavoidable. She couldn't pinpoint the direction, only thing she knew for certain was he had every right to be angry. Her arms wrapped tightly around her chest while her eyes fell to the ground.

I should have been there!

---​

"That is why I chose the three of you. Not because you are the best fighters, not because you are the best Jedi. You fight for something. Not because you're told. Not because it's tradition. But because it's right." [X]

"That grip? That strike? That stumble? They’re still yours. You’re still here. You showed up. That’s more than most do. That’s not normally what a Padawan who survived an encounter with one of the most infamous Sith Lords in the universe would do. I’m not trying to feed your ego, I’m telling you to get the both of you, you and him out of your head… and back into his." He took a step back. "You're not being tested to prove you're ‘ready.’ You're training to remember that you still are." [X]​

---​

Finally, her legs caved and sent her crumbling to the ground where she stood on the periphery. Yet, she forced herself to remain quiet, even as the tears fell in rivers down her cheeks. Her voice came only in soft whispers that barely cracked above the wind, "I'm sorry... I failed you... I'm so sorry—"

Azzie wasn't his padawan, but in a way, he had still been one of her masters.

@All present | Caltin Vanagor [In mention]​

 

[Kell Masaara]

"Whoa, okay!" Kell closed the remaining distance like a shot, hands guiding Azurine Varek as she crumpled to the ground, and kneeling with her. Grief happens, Jedi aren't immune to connection and emotions despite the best efforts of the old, old masters, and clearly... this was heavy for her. Kell didn't have the words, but she understood Azzie's - the pain of feeling that you're, to some degree by your absence, responsible for the death of someone precious to you. The Tunnel Krayts went through a lot of new blood. It's what happens in the criminal scene.

That never made it easier.

Once Kell was confident the woman wasn't going to completely faceplant on the floor, she waddle-shuffled on her knees to be alongside, rather than in front of, Azzie, an arm very lightly across the iridonian's shoulders. It's okay to cry. There's no wrong way to grieve - they must have been incredibly close. Kell swallows before offering a more vocal support, speaking softly - almost cooing in a comforting way - "It's alright, let that pain out. You're okay. I gotcha."

That wasn't the greeting she was expecting, but it's a dark day for quite a lot of people. Maybe next time they can shake hands.