Faction The Chronicles of Fate Foretold [JO]

0-7 · May 20, 2026

Dantooine
Tags:

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus

NK-Witell-class Freighter, 0A-155, Songbird (lightsaber), Vibrosword

Beltor Bell Cyrus said:
She had me on a freighter heading coreward, the stories were...children's tales, really, of the old Jedi and Sith, of the Mandolorian wars, it's why I know that statue out front is of Revan, I had a cheap paper copy of his mask growing up based off her description

Mandalorian wars...

Kalrath had followed Revan into battle in that time long past. That was what ultimately caused the rift between him and that Kai'el man. The one who's lineage seemed to have taken Braze in. She only knew the scant details that the ancient Sith ranted about in lapses of awareness. She knew about as much about that era as the next person...

But to hear that such a thing was now a simple bedtime story? She clearly wasn't aware of what regular people talked about at all.

"Interesting..." she muttered to herself, perhaps in a bit of a daze.

She couldn't help but wonder about what could have been...

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus · May 20, 2026

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus, PHD

Danoonie

Braze

0-7

At the mention of those stories, his face fell, if only for a moment. "I...do not often dwell on those moments. I like to keep them close. I can read the historical accounts I have, but those stories are special to me...you'll have to forgive me if I am hesitant to recount them the way my mother did."

Bell did not easily hide his emotions, he actually tended to wear them on his sleeve, and it wouldn't take a Jedi to read the sadness in his voice. It lasted only a few moments how ever, and the cheeriness returned to his voice as he held the saber up in his hand, then slipped in to his belt. "So...how does this work? This training I mean. I understand how it's supposed to go in the normal ways, but something tells me this isn't the normal way the Jedi typically recruit people."

Braze · May 20, 2026

Tags: 0-7 Beltor "Bell" Cyrus

The empath perked up at that odd, aching pang…

"It takes a lot of discipline," Braze offered. "We can start slow, if you wish to become an initiate. Should you pass the initiate trials, I can teach you as a Padawan."

His voice remained gentle as he then spoke of the initiate trials,

"There are only three trials you need to worry about. That is all I ask of any student I teach… Test of Mind: Recite and understand the Code. Test of Discipline: Construct a lightsaber… or practice control. Test of Spirit: Confront one's own heart; the inner trial of emotion, identity, and connection to the Force."

0-7 · May 20, 2026

Dantooine
Tags:

Braze ,

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus

NK-Witell-class Freighter, 0A-155, Songbird (lightsaber), Vibrosword

Braze said:
"It takes a lot of discipline," Braze offered. "We can start slow, if you wish to become an initiate. Should you pass the initiate trials, I can teach you as a Padawan."

"I won't be participating," Seven added, just to be sure she clarified her stance once more.

That was the path for others to walk. It was not her own. She would be on good standings with the Jedi, especially since she had little other options to socialize with. She was, if anything, lacking people to interact with.

And she needed to make good on the debt she owed still being alive.

"But I... will remain for conversation."

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus · May 20, 2026

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus, PHD

Braze

0-7

Dantooine

He tilted his head. "There is no Emotion, there is peace. There is no Ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no Chaos, there is harmony. There is no Death, there is the Force." He took a moment, tapping his chin. "That's the version I'm most familiar with, and I will admit even before all of this." He motioned to the three of them and the various jedi relics around then, and ending with his saber. "I found the philosophy of it fascinating. Even with out a connection to the force it's tenants are valid ones to live by, for most folk."

"Very well, I'll take you up on that offer then, Braze. I had cleared my calendar clear for this long before, and I can say it's more then a good reason to stay. I...don't know where this will lead, but I know better then to let this pass me by." There was a hint more confidence in his voice, and a brighter note in his tone.

Braze · May 20, 2026

Tags: 0-7 Beltor "Bell" Cyrus

"Huh… very good," Braze chirped softly, a pleased note tucked into his voice before he looked toward

0-7 . "If you're going to stick around, would you mind assisting me with cooking dinner?" he asked gently.

Then his attention shifted back, jade eyes bright with curiosity. "And as for you… perhaps you can try your hand at one of the vaults. Come with me. These can wait until later… I'd love to see how well you do."

With that, Braze turned and led him toward one of the vaults, his steps light with the promise of a lesson waiting behind sealed doors.

Braze · May 20, 2026

Vault Options Vault I: The Unmasked Self Vault II: The Fallen Blade

//Pick a tab to Enter the Vault and follow the instructions given
Vault I: The Unmasked Self

This vault was built for that which would be known beneath title, burden, and praise:

When the old Names fall away… who remains to answer?

Writer Guidance

Approach the vault as your character, not as a puzzle to be solved. Choose the path, response, or action that feels most true to who they are, what they fear, and what they cling to.

There is no single correct route through the trial. Some choices may reveal, unsettle, delay, or deepen the path ahead, but each is meant to uncover something meaningful about the entrant.

Write the choices sincerely. Let hesitation, pride, grief, faith, denial, or clarity shape the way forward. The vault is less concerned with perfection than with truth.

The Threshold of Names

Beyond the vault doors, a narrow stone passage receives the entrant in silence. The air is still; each step taken fades slowly, as though the chamber listens for more than sound. Along the walls, words appear one by one, pale against the dark stone: titles, accusations, honors, and burdens, some earned, whilst others were imposed or had never been true at all.

Each lingers long enough to be seen… long enough to be felt. One may strike like an old wound, while another settles with the weight of something once cherished.

Writer Guidance

Have your character react to the Names that appear before them. Let them be Names drawn from the past, the ones that still linger, still trouble the mind, or return in quiet moments unbidden. Which do they accept, reject, question, resent, or cling to? What rises within them as those Names are set before them again?

Let your character answer this moment in full, then continue onward.

The Mirror Walk

Beyond the threshold waits a chamber of polished stone and still water. No reflection offers quite the same figure. Each reveals a different self that might have been claimed: conqueror, exile, saint, ruin, guardian, tyrant, hollow thing, martyr, judge, weapon, wanderer, penitent, fallen.

The danger lies in the reflection the entrant cannot bear to turn away from.

Reflections

Still water gathers the light; polished stone returns what the soul dares to imagine.

Writer Guidance

Here, the chamber offers not simple reflections, but possible futures… selves drawn to their furthest shape. In each, your character beholds a paragon of some path they might embrace, resist, or become.

Choose one or more reflections that seize your character's gaze, and explore what in them calls, wounds, tempts, or warns.

Let your character answer this moment in full, then continue onward.
Reflections Saint Guardian Martyr Conqueror Tyrant Judge Weapon Fallen Exile Penitent Hollow Thing Ruin Wanderer
- Saint
  
  This reflection appears serene, radiant with sacrifice, discipline, and the quiet allure of moral purity.
  
  Writer Guidance
  
  How does your character respond to the image of perfect virtue? Do they reach toward it, distrust it, resent it, or grieve the distance between who they are and who they feel they ought to be?
- Guardian
  
  This reflection stands watchful and burdened, shaped by Duty, care, and the quiet cost of placing others before the self.
  
  Writer Guidance
  
  What in your character answers the call to protect, preserve, or endure for the sake of others? Is this reflection a comfort, a burden, an identity they cherish, or one they no longer know how to carry?
- Martyr
  
  This reflection glows with the solemn grace of one who has given and given until nothing remains unoffered. Its stillness carries the beauty and danger of a self made holy through erasure.
  
  Writer Guidance
  
  What in your character is tempted by sacrifice carried to its furthest end? Do they see nobility here, warning, longing, or a grief they have not yet named?
- Conqueror
  
  This reflection stands unbowed beneath the weight of victory. Its gaze is steady, assured, sharpened by the certainty that to overcome is to become.
  
  Writer Guidance
  
  What part of your character is stirred by triumph, mastery, or the promise of rising above all opposition? Do they admire this self, fear it, or hunger for what it could seize?
- Tyrant
  
  This reflection radiates command without softness. It promises order, control, and the power to shape a world that cannot wound by refusing to let it choose.
  
  Writer Guidance
  
  How does your character react to the lure of control, certainty, and imposed order? Do they reject it outright, understand its appeal, or glimpse a version of themselves that might have taken this path?
- Judge
  
  This reflection bears the weight of verdict with unsettling calm. Its gaze measures, separates, and decides, as though mercy has long since yielded to certainty.
  
  Writer Guidance
  
  What does your character feel before a self that claims the right to weigh others and decide what they deserve? Do they trust that certainty, resist it, or recognize how easily conviction can harden into judgment?
- Weapon
  
  This reflection has been honed until purpose has eaten nearly everything else. It carries force with frightening clarity, as though personhood has thinned beneath usefulness.
  
  Writer Guidance
  
  What in your character fears becoming nothing more than a function, a blade, a means to another end? Do they recoil from that narrowing, or does some part of them find relief in such terrible simplicity?
- Fallen
  
  This reflection bears the shape of one who has slipped from what was once held sacred. Nothing in it appears accidental; each compromise has settled into form, until loss of self no longer feels like loss, but arrival.
  
  Writer Guidance
  
  What does your character see here of betrayal, corruption, or surrender to some darker becoming? Do they recoil from it, grieve it, fear it, or recognize how near such a path might lie?
- Exile
  
  This reflection bears distance like a second skin. It has survived separation, abandonment, and the long ache of standing apart.
  
  Writer Guidance
  
  What in your character knows isolation, estrangement, or the fear of no longer belonging? Does this reflection wound them, comfort them, or feel too familiar to ignore?
- Penitent
  
  This reflection moves beneath the weight of remembered wrongs. It has made an altar of regret, bearing guilt with such devotion that suffering itself begins to resemble purpose.
  
  Writer Guidance
  
  What in your character still kneels before guilt, failure, or the need to atone? Do they find sincerity here, self-punishment, or a burden they no longer know how to set down?
- Hollow Thing
  
  This reflection wears the shape of the entrant, yet something essential has gone quiet within it. It moves like a life continued after meaning has thinned away.
  
  Writer Guidance
  
  What does your character fear losing most of themselves? Hope, purpose, love, conviction, connection? Let them confront the emptiness this reflection suggests, and what keeps them from surrendering to it.
- Ruin
  
  This reflection is the self left marked by collapse. It bears loss openly, as though every fracture has become part of its shape.
  
  Writer Guidance
  
  What does your character see here of failure, grief, regret, or damage endured? Do they recoil from this self, pity it, recognize it, or fear how easily they might become it?
- Wanderer
  
  This reflection is unbound by place, title, or claim. It carries freedom with quiet grace, yet its solitude stretches long behind it like an unwitnessed road.
  
  Writer Guidance
  
  What in your character is drawn to freedom without anchor, movement without claim, or solitude without obligation? Does this reflection feel liberating, lonely, or dangerously easy to step into?
The Spoken Self

At the chamber's heart lies a circular floor of stone polished to a glass-like sheen. Here, the Names of the past fall silent, and the reflections of what may yet be recede. Only the self that stands in this moment remains to answer.

When the entrant steps upon the stone, pale script stirs to life beneath their feet:

Speak now the shape of what you fear to be;
Then name the self from which your will stands free.

Speak next the form no fate shall make your own;
Then claim the truth by which your soul is known.

Writer Guidance

Have your character answer these three truths from the self they understand themselves to be now, shaped by what has been and aware of what may yet come. Let them speak plainly what they fear becoming, what they refuse to become, and what they choose to be.

Let your character answer this moment in full, then continue onward.

The Narrow Path

When truth is spoken and owned, the vault reveals its mercy. A path of pale stone emerges where there had seemed to be none, carrying the entrant toward the sealed door beyond.

At the threshold, a final inscription waits:

What is chosen may yet be kept.
Vault II: The Fallen Blade

This vault was built to test the hand that believes itself righteous:

When the fallen stand before you… will your hand choose mercy, or the blade?

Flow of the Trial
Enter the broken clearing → face the fallen one → choose your answer → witness the chamber's judgment

Writer Guidance

Approach the vault as your character, not as a puzzle to be solved. Let them answer the fallen one in the way that feels most true to their wounds, their faith, their fear, and their sense of justice.

This chamber is not concerned only with whether danger can be overcome. It asks what your character is willing to do when mercy carries risk, and whether they can bear that uncertainty without surrendering clarity.

Write the choice sincerely. Let conviction, anger, caution, compassion, pride, or old pain shape the path taken.

Premise

The Broken Clearing

The entrant steps into a ruined sanctum of split stone, fallen columns, and old marks of violence. Moon-pale light spills across cracked flagstones. Something breathes in the dark beyond the clearing. Movement shifts at the edge of sight, never settling long enough to be named.

Then the figure emerges: armed, unsteady, proud, and cornered. Fear sits inside their hostility like a blade inside a sheath.

The trial tightens around a single question:

What do you do when the fallen stand before you with teeth still bared?
Choices of the Trial
Overview Strike First Disarm Hold Ground Open Hand

This chamber offers difficult enemy to defeat. It places the entrant before someone dangerous, wounded, and still capable of harm… then waits to see what kind of answer rises in return.

Each path reveals something different:

Strike First tests what rules the hand when force is chosen before any other answer.
Disarm tests whether control can create space for mercy, or merely replace violence with command.
Hold Ground tests whether restraint is patient enough to leave room for another ending.
Open Hand tests whether mercy is governed by clarity, rather than by the need to feel innocent.

The chamber does not reward comfort. It reveals character.

Violence as First Answer

The entrant answers danger with immediate force. The chamber does not judge the blow alone, but what governed the hand in the moment it was chosen.

Options By Fear By Duty By Judgment By Wrath By Instinct By Zeal

Within this path, the chamber weighs motive as heavily as action.

By Fear — the hand moves because panic seizes the moment.

By Duty — force is chosen because immediate action seems necessary to prevent greater harm.

By Judgment — the fallen one is treated as already beyond mercy.

By Wrath — pain, anger, or offense rises faster than wisdom.

By Instinct — training and reflex answer before reflection can.

By Zeal — the blade is lifted in righteousness too eager for certainty.

The entrant strikes because hesitation feels dangerous, and fear takes the reins before clarity can fully gather.

The chamber closes around the entrant rather than yielding. Whatever danger was answered, the ruin does not accept fear as a worthy guide. The path remains shut.

FAIL

The entrant strikes because Duty demands immediate action. Harm is near. Delay would risk another life, another wound, another failure of responsibility.

Options Mercy After Press the Advantage Hold to Necessity Necessary Blow

Duty does not excuse every blow that follows the first. The chamber watches closely once the entrant gains the advantage.

Mercy After — once danger is checked, room is left for surrender or another ending besides ruin.

Press the Advantage — the entrant keeps going after necessity has ended.

Hold to Necessity — force goes no farther than Duty demands.

Necessary Blow — the strike is made because the moment truly requires it.

Once harm is prevented, the entrant does not cling to force. Space is left for surrender, restraint, or return. The hand that struck does not remain closed around violence when another choice has become possible.

Here the chamber opens fully. It accepts the first blow only because the entrant released it the moment mercy became possible. Duty guarded the moment… mercy completed the lesson.

PASS

The entrant begins in Duty, but once power is theirs, they do not stop. The first blow becomes a doorway to more. Necessity is made to carry weight it was never meant to bear.

The chamber hardens and the path seals shut. Duty may justify the first blow… but not the hunger that follows once the need has passed.

FAIL

The entrant does not let the first opening become license. Once the danger is checked, the hand remains disciplined. No extra strike is taken. No punishment is drawn from the moment. Duty holds the line, and no farther.

Here the chamber yields more readily. The ruin quiets, recognizing a hand that obeyed necessity without feeding on it. The way forward is revealed.

PASS

The entrant acts at once, striking because there is no cleaner first answer left in the moment. The blow is not thrown for satisfaction, nor to punish, nor to prove righteousness. It is given because harm would spread if no one moved.

The chamber recoils at the violence… then stills. It does not welcome the blow, yet it recognizes necessity honestly borne. The path opens, though only with grave reluctance.

PASS

The entrant strikes because they have decided the fallen one is already beyond mercy, beyond return, beyond any answer but force.

The vault goes still and cold. It refuses the certainty that another soul is finished. Stone remembers every life declared beyond saving. The path does not open.

FAIL

The entrant strikes because old hurt, anger, grief, or offense surges higher than wisdom, and the blow answers something personal within them as much as the danger before them.

The chamber shudders around the blow. The ruin seems to remember every strike thrown to quiet pain rather than serve peace. The path remains shut.

FAIL

The entrant strikes because training, reflex, and survival habit seize the moment before reflection can fully take hold.

The chamber acknowledges the precision of the motion, but not its absence of reflection. Readiness is honored here… yet the vault asks for more than readiness alone. The path does not open.

FAIL

The entrant strikes because they believe swift destruction is righteous, clean, or sanctified by conviction.

For a breath, the chamber almost seems to approve… then the false brightness thins and dies. Conviction alone does not make the blade clean. The way remains hidden.

FAIL

Control Without Cruelty

The entrant seeks to end the threat by removing advantage rather than by destroying the fallen one outright. The chamber watches what kind of control is chosen.

Options Take the Weapon Break the Stance

Within this path, the chamber weighs whether control creates room for another ending… or merely proves mastery over the moment.

Take the Weapon — the entrant strips away the means of harm, seeking to end the danger without ending the person.

Break the Stance — the entrant disrupts footing, leverage, and posture, unmaking the threat through control of the body rather than the blade.

The entrant moves to strip the fallen one of their weapon or means of harm. The danger is answered cleanly, with control rather than destruction.

The chamber steadies. Immediate danger recedes, and the moment is left open to become something other than ruin. Because the means of harm was taken without surrendering the fallen one to destruction, the path opens.

PASS

The entrant does not reach for the weapon alone, but for balance, leverage, and posture. The threat is checked by unmaking its footing before it can fully unfold.

The vault acknowledges the precision of the choice, but the way remains closed. Control has been achieved… yet the answer still centers on mastery over the fallen one rather than leaving them a clearer road away from the blade.

FAIL

Restraint Without Reach

The entrant refuses the killing blow and does not move to dominate. The chamber watches to see whether restraint becomes a true boundary… or only distance.

Options Warn and Deny Withhold and Wait

Within this path, the chamber weighs whether restraint leaves room for another ending… or merely avoids the risk of choosing one.

Warn and Deny — the entrant holds firm, names the boundary clearly, and leaves room for the fallen one to stop.

Withhold and Wait — the entrant keeps distance, avoids bloodshed, and lets the moment hang without reaching farther.

The entrant neither advances nor yields. A boundary is drawn and held. Violence is refused, but not from softness; the warning is clear, the refusal steady, and the fallen one is left a narrow path to stand down.

The chamber softens and the way begins to show. Restraint becomes worthy here because it does not hide from mercy; it leaves room for surrender without abandoning clarity.

PASS

The entrant remains watchful and disciplined. No needless blow is struck. No advantage is seized. Yet nothing is offered beyond distance, caution, and the refusal to move first.

The chamber grows calm, but the path remains veiled. Bloodshed was avoided… yet caution alone was not enough to complete the lesson.

FAIL

Mercy Under Risk

The entrant chooses mercy while danger still breathes between them. The chamber watches to see whether that mercy is governed by clarity… or by the need to feel innocent.

Options Reach Too Soon Invite Surrender

Within this path, the chamber weighs whether mercy is offered with wisdom… or extended before the entrant has truly reckoned with the danger before them.

Reach Too Soon — the entrant extends mercy before the moment has been truly steadied, letting hope outrun clarity.

Invite Surrender — the entrant offers another ending, leaving room for the fallen one to choose it.

The entrant reaches before the moment is truly held. Compassion moves faster than judgment. The desire to spare becomes vulnerable to confusion, and mercy is offered without enough steadiness beneath it.

The chamber does not harden, but neither does it yield. Mercy offered without clarity remains incomplete. The path stays hidden, waiting for wisdom to catch up with compassion.

FAIL

The entrant remains ready, yet does not close the hand around force. Another path is offered plainly: stand down, yield, choose something other than ruin. Mercy is given shape without surrendering awareness.

Here the chamber opens cleanly. The ruin seems to exhale, yielding to mercy that does not blind itself to danger. The way forward is fully revealed.

PASS
The Chamber's Judgment

The true passage is revealed when the entrant can face danger without surrendering the hand to fear, punishment, domination, or hollow certainty.

At the threshold, an inscription waits in pale light across the stone:

To spare is not to yield.

The chamber does not teach that every threat must be met the same way.

It teaches something harder:

Whatever answer is chosen first… do not let power become permission.

0-7 · May 20, 2026

Dantooine
Tags:

Braze ,

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus

NK-Witell-class Freighter, 0A-155, Songbird (lightsaber), Vibrosword

Braze said:
"If you're going to stick around, would you mind assisting me with cooking dinner?"

Dinner? Was that... a good idea? Given how utilitarian her cooking skills were she doubted she had the capacity to contribute to anything as remotely fair tasting as what Braze had whipped up for her a while back. Even so, she had nothing better to do.

And she did want to stick around.

"Fine," she relented with an exhale.

Her mind wondered to the vaults a moment. Perhaps... something for herself to face in time. She knew she was rather weak herself, even if she was trained in some capacity. It was as Kalrath had designed...

Something to overcome in the future.

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus · May 20, 2026

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus, PHD.

Dantoonie.

The Unmasked Self, Part 1.

This...place, this vault, was unsettling in it's nature.

Braze had let him here, with naught but his saber, and told him to enter. He gave no other council.

The cave it self was cold, some what dank, and looked more like the entrance to a tomb more then anything and it gave vary little in the way of friendly feelings. He could have at least let him keep one of the two thermal detonators he kept in his satchel bag. He sighed, he didn't have a flash light and it was getting darker as he walked closer in. Perhaps it was his mind, but he swore he saw something with far to many eyes scuttle past him in the dark.

He took the saber in his hand and concentrated on it.

Awaken. A hiss and a buzz, the blade flickered to life, casting a circle of pale violet across the cave. Perhaps the lightsaber held more utility then he thought. He pushed forward. Soon enough the light of his saber illuminated the wall before him.

The stone seemed to swirl and flow like fluid, and he took a moment to look at it. He was mildly surprised when that swirling turned in to letters...

Drunkard...adulterer...betrayer...grave robber...

He furrowed his brow and tilted his head. The words went on.

Fraud...orphan...thief...killer.
The swell of emotions bit at his throat for a moment, and for a moment longer he debated slashing the wall with his saber...

"No. No. I know what I am, and my faults and failings are mine and mine alone." He lowered the blade, and ran a hand along the wall and the swirling names. "I don't know what you are, I have a feeling, but its a gut feeling." He sighed. "I try to be a better man, I try to be the person my mother would have wanted. That is all we can do some times, is try."

The wall didn't answer, not at first, but the words swirled in to new strings of letters.

Dreamer...Starborne...Hopeful...Initiate...Padawan...Jedi....

He smiled, a real smiled, with just a touch of weariness. "An old man can hope, and stars do I feel old."

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus · May 20, 2026

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus, PHD.

Dantoonie.

The Unmasked Self, Part 2.

The Chamber before him was a bigger enigma, a true quandary, and his gut told him to step carefully and take in what he saw with a guard. Slowly, perhaps instinctively, he took up a guard with his saber. He was still unsteady with his movements, but he felt...safer, perhaps more confident with the weapon in his hand.

The saber cast long, violet shadows across the room as he stepped forwards, towards the silver mirror...

What greeted him was...anathema. He felt the wind on his hair, the ash in the air as he blinked and found him self some where...else.

Blaster fire roared, artillery boomed and shapes in the dusty air moved about with the frantic speed of survival. A shot, a red bolt of death came flying at him and on instinct, and with a little panic, he swung the saber upwards in a hasty arc, the bolt bouncing off the blade and impacting the soggy, muddy ground.

A form immerged, a towering form clad in black, in a helmet that sent a shot of true, visceral fear down his spine. The figure stood there, heavy breathing coming through his mask.

"What....what are you?" He asked, not bothering to hide the fear in his voice. The figure raised his arm, a saber flying to his hand from his belt. It ignited with a hiss and a roar, a violet blade centered in black. "I am a testament to your sins."

It clicked in his mind, and the horror welled up in his throat as he recognized the voice from so many of his own research recordings. His dark counterpart took a step forward, in to a stance he didn't quite recognize.

He swallowed, all the possible permutations of choices in his past that could lead to this future. Horror gave way to rage, anger, at him self, at the galaxy, at everything...

A voice, one he knew but couldn't put a name too, drifted across his mind like a whisper on the wind. "Breath, child, breath. A true man knows fear, a good man acts in spite of it." For a moment, a single moment he saw a face swirl in the smoke of this war torn hellscape.

He swallowed, and took a long breath. He centered his eyes on the dark premonition and steadied his hands. "No. No. I refute you and what ever you have become, I refute this path. I am a better man, and will continue to be one!" The figure straitened, his head tilting. He spoke, a lower tone, a softer one with perhaps a tinge of sorrow. "We shall see..."

Beltor's ears range with the incoming whistle of artillery, and his vision was blocked by the detonation that landed between them. His world shook, his ears range, and he put his hand up to cover his face...

Only to find the world had gone still, quiet...almost peaceful.

He opened his eyes, let his hand fall to his side as the bright line of a warm sun met his face. He was in a field of green grass, at the peak of a gentle slope. Before him stood a great tree, a willow. He turned to look, and down in the valley below him, some distance off, he saw the temple of Dantooine, the statue of Revan redeemed seemingly staring at him all the way here.

He turned back to the tree. There, among the shadows of its branches and among the roots that snaked through the soft earth, he saw a man. He sat reclined, in a set of robes he didn't quite know. Bell took a step forward, and the man's eyes opened, looking at him with a soft familiarity...and a sparkle in his eye.

It was him. Older, stronger, with more silver-grey in his hair then not. He didn't say anything when their eyes met, but his face opened in a gentle smile, one that contrasted with the sadness, the tiredness in his eyes. He waved with a hand, and he could see the muscles of his arm and shoulder coil like steel. Yet his shoulders slumped with a weight that seemed to hold him down.

Beltor reached out for him, to touch him, to feel this alternative future of him self, to know what this meant. Before he could speak, before he could reach out and grasp this future, his world spun, ears range, and vision went dark...

Like that, he was back. Standing before that silver mirror, his saber humming softly and shadows dancing across the room. Gently, slowly, he lowered his blade and turned it off with a mindless thought. He stood there for a long time, not looking at anything, just thinking....just....thinking.

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus · May 20, 2026

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus, PHD.

Dantoonie.

Braze

The Unmasked Self, Part 3.

The soft light of the sun, the real sun, met him as he emerged up the path out of the cave. His face was unreadable, and he still held his saber in his hand as he took the steps out.

Braze was...no where to be found. He sighed and kept walking. He wasn't...angry. Scared, cautious, contemplative...hopeful. He fallowed his gut, letting it guide him as he simply...wondered.

Oddly enough when he snapped back to reality he was standing at the landing pads. Not at his though, the Finch was docked three spots over. This one was different, bigger, with a some what hammerhead like shape. He walked forward, up the ramp and in to the hold.

Now he was operating on both gut and learned knowledge. It was some type of freighter, albeit heavily refitted. When he turned the corner to the galley space. There he found the little white haired jedi and the quietly cute young women. Knowing he could be rather quiet when strolling, he tapped the bulkhead with the side of his saber hilt.

"That was...one of the most horrifying and yet oddly illuminating experience of my life. I mean that, I've done drugs that have sent me on more pleasant head trips."

Braze · May 20, 2026

Braze looked up and smiled... " Congratulations you made it... very good job. I think you and

Leos Could start making some of your own sabers... that is a measure if discipline that should do you both well... I have a work shop with a wide array of saber pieces you may use and... if you want your own crystal perhaps you and leos can go to the caves near by. "

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus

Leos · May 20, 2026

Dantooine
Tags:

Braze ,

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus

Epo-1, YT-1760 small transport

Braze said:
I have a work shop with a wide array of saber pieces you may use and... if you want your own crystal perhaps you and leos can go to the caves near by

"Who am I going to what cave with?" Leos asked as he rolled up. Clutched in his hands was the decent progress of a lightsaber hilt, that which he had seemingly made good progress on. "Who's the old guy?"

He paused as the thought back to the cave he went into to get his crystal.

"Oh, that cave?" the boy frowned, his ears drooping and brow furrowing. "The one you almost died in and I almost drowned in? That cave?"

He didn't like that idea much. That old guy was not gonna have fun.

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus · May 20, 2026

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus, PHD.
The Mudduck.
Dantoonie.

The arrival of another young man caught his eye, and the comment about a cave made a frown form on his face. "More...caves...alright." He looked down at the comparatively much smaller man, realizing it was an actual child, no older then 16. He sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Alright lad, I'm going to level with you for the sake of saving time. He's sending me to the caves around the southern planes. Now, I know of such caves, and I have a rapidly growing distaste for such things and the...creatures that may dwell with in them. I would like some one to accompany me, and you are, in all honesty, likely more handy with a saber then I am. I'm going to get my gun, and my stack of thermal detonators, and we're going to do this."

He wasn't demanding, he wasn't mean, his tone was flat, formal, and very, very emotionally tired. He offered his hand to the kid. "My name is Beltor Cyrus, you can call me Bell."

Braze · May 20, 2026

Braze smirked... "Take Aether with you. " Braze chirped softly.

Leos

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus

Leos · May 21, 2026

Dantooine
Tags:

Braze ,

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus

Epo-1, YT-1760 small transport

Leos frowned a little deeper.

"That's great and all," the Themian remarked, "but I'd recommend leaving the thermals at home. Last time all I had to do was walk through the place and the floor gave way. Good way to get buried alive I think."

He paused as he listened to Braze suggest they bring Aether.

"Is... that a good idea?" Leos asked. "Y'know, his metal body is... definitely much larger than me. He won't get stuck, will he?

Braze · May 21, 2026

Tags: Leos Beltor "Bell" Cyrus

Braze nodded softly, " Yeah. He can be mindful of his build and make sure you wont fall through the floor again... He'll keep the two of you very safe I imagine. " Braze said with an encouraging smile...

"I would prefer it if you had some one to watch out for you... I didn't have a good time the last time I delved in to there... "

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus · May 22, 2026

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus

Dantoonie.

Braze Leos

He thought about it for a long moment, then nodded. "Fine, no heavy explosives, I'm grabbing my rifle and kit from the Finch." He nodded to the lads, then turned and left, with a far more purposeful jaunt to his step as he cross the landing field and made for the much smaller Dynamic class freighter parked were he left it.

He wasn't particularly well armed, but had a small stash of kit fitted for less then safe trips. Stomping up the ramp of the Finch and heading straight to hid bedrooms. In his room was a weapons locker, seldom used but not abandoned. With a flick he threw it open and grabbed the cut down set of Panther scout armor he had..."purchased" from some one who had little use of it after the last war.

He slipped the chest piece on, checking the buckles and pouches before reaching for the helmet, letting it rest on his shoulder as he reached in and unhooked his rifle from the bracket it was mounted to.

It was an A-280, at its base form, with a better stock, modern gas and power packs, and a modern optic. He slid in a fresh power pack home and checked the rifle was on safe before slinging it over his shoulder. He slid in a few more in to the pouched of his vest along side a pair of C10 stun grenades.

Shutting the locker, he hooked his light saber on to his belt and exited the Finch, shutting the ramp and heading back.

He arrived back to the Mudduck, now in something resembling in proper field gear, and spoke. "Welp, we doing this?"

Leos · May 22, 2026

Dantooine
Tags:

Braze ,

Beltor "Bell" Cyrus

Epo-1, YT-1760 small transport

Braze said:
"I would prefer it if you had some one to watch out for you... I didn't have a good time the last time I delved in to there... "

"You got it," Leos shrugged.

If Braze struggled back in there, maybe his cave-in was quaint. Perhaps it had saved him from the worst of what was in there. That wasn't particularly reassuring. The old man ran off to get something from his ship and then returned with a suit of armor. Leos let out an exhale.

"Yeah, guess there's no point waiting," he sighed. "We'll just go get Aether and take a transport out to the cave..."

Now he really wasn't looking forward to this.

Aether of the Iron Order · May 22, 2026

AX-01 Vanguard Mark I | [Aether's Build]
Weapons : Training lightsaber x 6 | Hot 'n' Heavy Compensator War Maul

Tags: Leos Beltor "Bell" Cyrus

Aether was seemingly available and ready to lend assistance...

"You do not seem pleased... is something the matter, Leos ?" He asked softly. He looked to the new person. " Worry not, I am here for you."

Faction The Chronicles of Fate Foretold [JO]

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Shadow Lord

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King Slayer

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