Private The Mother of Teeth

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Flickerfox - En route to Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace sat in the pilot's seat, elbow braced against the console, fingers curled under his chin as the ship hummed steady around him. He wasn't looking at the stars. He was watching himself. In his free hand was his personal holoprojector and on it, a holo-recording hovered quietly.​

"You told me to reach out if I ever needed anything."​

There was a beat in the message. Not hesitation, but something more resigned.​

"Weirdly… I trust you. Meet me at these coordinates. I'll explain the rest when you get there."​

​

He'd already sent the transmission to Lorn hours back, but Ace had watched it back several times over. As if trying to remind himself that this was real, what he was planning, what he was about to do.

Ace let the transmission loop once more before he shut it off. The silence in the cockpit swallowed it whole. Beside him, Tic sat perched on the co-pilot's seat, head tilted ever so slightly. The droid didn't chirp. Just… watched him. His lips curved as he reached over to rub the top of the droid's head.

Outside the viewport, Dathomir loomed now. The nav screen showed the drop point; five clicks from the Weavewood. The more he drew near, the more hollow he felt. The trauma of what happened here kept him away, and he'd planned to never return. But... Vinorl's words echoed faintly, uninvited.

"You survived what happened there. But you have not stood on that ground as the person you've become."

The old Jedi was right, he'd never be able to fully heal without returning. Facing what he did and coming to terms with it.

The Flickerfox dropped through the cloud bank like a needle through silk. The hut came into view, just barely still standing. Vinorl's old place. It had only been a couple of months but it already looked weathered, forgotten.

Ace set the Fship down a dozen meters from the hut, the engines wound down with a soft hiss. He didn't move right away. Just sat in the silence. Then finally, he stepped down the ramp and into the open air. Tic followed close, soft whirring at his heels. He didn't need the Force to feel the gravity here. The planet remembered him.

He crossed the clearing, where a solitary patch of disturbed ground waited. It was half-swallowed by overgrowth, but still marked. A flat stone rested at its head. No name carved into it. No sigil. Just the grave he dug with his bare hands.

He knelt beside it slowly. Quietly. His prosthetic hovered for a moment, then pressed into the earth beside his real hand. Palms flat. Fingers curled into the dirt.

It was colder than he remembered. She was probably bones by now. The wind stirred the leaves above him. Ace closed his eyes. And waited.

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn had almost ignored the incoming alert. His comms chirped so rarely these days that anything outside mission traffic felt foreign, intrusive. But the sender's ID froze him mid-step: Acier. The holo opened before he could think better of it. It was a message, personal and vulnerable in a way Lorn wasn't used to receiving.

He stood there, watching the transmission in silence. The kid's voice was steady, but the undercurrent felt familiar, too familiar. It was that quiet gravity people carried when they'd run out of roads except the hard one.

Lorn's answer was as inelegant as it was honest: a simple thumbs-up reaction, sent before he second-guessed himself. Hopefully, the kid understood him well enough by now. Words failed him more often than not, but a promise was a promise, and Lorn didn't break those.

The trip to Dathomir was uneventful, but the moment he stepped off the shuttle, the air shifted. It felt heavy. The Force here didn't hum, it brooded. He'd read about witches, clans, old wars, and stranger rites, yet nothing prepared him for the sensation of a world that watched. It was as though the ground itself remembered every wound it had swallowed.

Lorn let the reactions come and go without judgment. There was a quiet curiosity about why Ace had chosen this place, and a sharper thread of worry when he sensed the kid's presence nearby; it felt frayed at the edges, thinner than usual. Echoes of his own ghosts stirred, uninvited.

He found Ace kneeling before the grave, shoulders drawn tight, the droid keeping a silent vigil beside him. Lorn stopped several paces back, giving breath and space, letting the moment settle the way grief demanded. He remembered doing the same, kneeling at a mound of dirt with no marker, wondering how someone could vanish from the galaxy so completely.

He drew in a slow breath, then stepped closer, boots soft in the overgrowth. Only when he was beside him, close enough that Ace would know he wasn't alone, yet far enough to leave the choice of speaking, did Lorn finally let his voice break the quiet.

"Someone important to you?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

He sensed him first, long before he even spoke. Lorn's presence was distinct, one he'd recognize in a crowded city. It was quiet, like a smoldering coal buried beneath cold ash. It didn't flare. It didn't announce itself. It just was, steady and unwavering. Familiar.

When Lorn finally broke the silence, Ace didn't respond immediately. His shoulders rose slightly before lowering in unison with a small exhale. The ashen-haired rebel didn't look at Lorn, eyes lingering on the unmarked grave.

"My mother." He said, trying to mask the traces of hurt in his voice.

Ace didn't elaborate, he merely rose to his feet and dusted off his hands. Then, turning to the older Jedi, he nodded and smiled faintly.

"Thanks for coming, Lorn. I know it was short notice and details were--" He trailed off, glancing away before catching himself. His eyes settled on Lorn again "Come on, I'll catch you up on the way."

His attention then turned toward the southern ridge, toward the ruins of Clan Vethrisa. But first, they needed to cross through the Weavewood's dense forest. Ace began to lead the way, with Tic following closely behind, keeping pace with both Ace and Lorn.

As they passed the familiar trees, the memory of the last time he was here echoed. Ines Pen-Ar-Lan beside him, and the unshakeable feeling he could rescue Orryn, but also the quiet fear of what if he couldn't? The memories didn't haunt him. Not anymore. But they still carried the dull ache of an old wound.

Ace was silent for a while, searching for the words that would come next. Lorn deserved an explanation, for everything. The Jedi had only met him once and still chose to come all the way to Dathomir, just to help him. Ace owed him greatly.

Finally, he sighed. Breaking the silence with no build-up or ceremony.

"I was born here. Dathomir." He paused, sequencing the next words in his head. "My mother was a witch. Clan Vethrisa. They thought I was some… prophecy thing. Whatever. I didn't grow up with them. She smuggled me offworld when I was a baby and left me on Bonadan To protect me.."

His gaze remained ahead, not out of shame or discomfort, but focus. As if he was looking at the story he was telling in real-time.

"Couple months back I started getting visions of her being tortured. Came back with someone who could help, and we actually got her out. But it was a setup."

Ace's jaw tightened at the words. The memory of his mother, watching her fade in his arms - his first time meeting her, and she was gone just like that.

"The Clan Mother killed my mom in front of me. To sever my ties. And I… lost it. Wiped out most of them before my friend stopped me from killing their young." Shame could be heard in his voice following that last part.

Tic trilled sorrowfully, as if he too was reliving the memory. Ace glanced at the small droid, offering him a faint smile, before gently closing his eyes and centering himself again.

"Spent a lot of time hating myself. I'm past it, but I haven't forgotten." He said, finally facing Lorn "I'm here to come to terms. Maybe get some closure. I don't know."

Then he stopped, just for a moment, standing in place. A faint half-smile tugged at the corner of his lip.

"I guess I didn't want to do it alone. So, thank you. Again."

Lorn Reingard ​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn walked beside him without rushing or breaking the quiet Ace seemed to need. The forest pressed around them, with twisted trunks, old roots, and long shadows, yet none of it felt hostile. It felt calming, a stark contrast to the immense weight Ace carried. Lorn recognized painful things in him, like reading his own scars on someone else's skin.

Silence suited him. It always had. Ala filled every gap with sunshine, and Bastila talked because the alternatives scared her. But Ace didn't demand anything. Lorn could simply be what he was built for: steady, present, unintrusive. The kind of support that didn't need announcing.

When the kid began to speak, Lorn didn't look at him. He kept his eyes ahead, on the path, making space for the words to land however they needed to. But each one hit harder than the last: born here, visions, his mother, torture. A rescue that wasn't one, a death in his arms, a massacre fueled by grief and horror and something no one his age should've ever had to face.

It twisted something sharp in Lorn's chest. The feeling was far too familiar.

He waited until Ace finished. When the sigh settled, and gratitude softened the edge of everything else, only then did he answer, quiet but deliberate.

"You don't owe me thanks. I told you I'd come when you needed me." His voice was steady, though he felt the fracture running beneath it. "I meant that on Naboo. I mean it now. If you reach out, I'll be there. Wherever it is. Whatever it costs."

The path narrowed, forcing them closer. Leaves brushed their shoulders as they passed.

"Closure's good," he added, slower. "That shows more bravery than most people can manage, more than I ever did."

Lorn forced himself to continue, even though the words felt like pulling an old blade from an unhealed wound.

"I was captured once," he said. "A long time ago. My master's homeworld. We lost a war there, and they wanted to make sure the warriors who survived remembered it."

He exhaled through his nose, controlled and composed.

"They put us in an arena. Made us fight each other. Promised to spare whoever was left standing."

The memory rose: sand soaked dark, faces he'd loved twisted by fear. He kept walking.

"I survived. They didn't. I've never forgiven myself. Never gone back. Never looked at that ground as the person I am now."

He turned his head just enough for Ace to see the truth of it.

"So in my eyes? You're already doing better than I ever did."

His tone held no pity, just quiet, sincere, and hard-earned respect.

"If you want to face this," Lorn said, "you won't be doing it alone."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace listened as Lorn spoke, eyes on the forest ahead, letting the words settle like in his chest. Lorn's story didn't hit like a revelation. It hit like something known. Something that had lived in the background of the man's presence from the moment they met.

When the older Jedi finally finished, Ace nodded once, slow and thoughtful.

"I..." He said, eyes lowering, searching for... whatever to say. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

He glanced sideways, just enough to meet Lorn's eyes for a moment.

"Carrying something like that's not easy. Talking about it's worse. So... thanks, for trusting me with it." There was no pity in his voice. No awe. Just a mutual, quiet understanding.

He looked forward again. "You said I'm doing better than you did." His lips twitched into a faint smile. "I think both of us still standing. Walking. Says a lot."

Then it all clicked for him. The reason why he felt easy with Lorn was because they were mirrors. The two men spoke the same language of pain, they didn't let it drown them, they simply carried it like scars. It was a fast bond built on wounds and will.

Ace's attention turned forward again, the trees parting slightly ahead. Without saying anything else, he continued on. They were getting close now, and with it... he sensed something. Something he hadn't sensed the last time.

He felt it first in the air - a cold that clung like icewater, seeping through fabric, skin, and even into the seams of his prosthetic. His metal fingers twitched, unbidden. But the chill was only the surface.

Beneath it pulsed something worse. Rage. Grief. Fear. Pain. It was all there, layered and heavy, screaming just beneath the silence, so loud it buzzed at the edge of his senses.

The Force's threads trembled, vibrating like the strands of a spider's web when prey makes the wrong move. Except this time, the tremor wasn't from prey... it was everything. The cold. The sorrow. The violence. It all echoed through the weave like a warning. Or a call. The closer they drew, the deeper it sank into him.

Ace didn't slow, but he glanced toward Lorn, just to see if he felt it too. "Do you feel that?"

---

The pair finally arrived at the ruins of Clan Vethrisa's village. The site of his massacre. His rage incarnate. Ace grimaced at the sight, subtly, but maybe Lorn would pick up on it. If not, he'd sense traces of grief ripple in the Force.

This was the heart of it. The darkness he felt earlier, it originated here. Then it made sense, this was a nexus. A dark side nexus. Memories of Teth flashed in his mind briefly before he centered himself again.

The realization hit him like a hammer. This nexus... he'd created it... when he slaughtered the witches of Vethrisa.

A voice cut through the silence. Old, raspy like bone dragged across stone.

"You have returned. And you have brought a witness."

Ace turned, and what stood before them was a Dathomiri woman. She was small, hunched, wrapped in dark, tattered layers that seemed spun from bark and fog. Her long white hair hung like dying threads, catching the dim light in tangled strands. But it was her eyes, burning violet, glowing soft like embers in ash.

The Force reacted before Ace did. Not with panic, but tension. He felt it coil around her like a thousand silent voices whispering in reverse, like the weave itself had learned to rot.

The woman, whoever she was, didn't ask who he was. She already knew...

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn didn't flinch at Ace's apology. He just let it wash over him, quiet and sincere.

"Carrying it is the cost," he murmured. "Living with it is the work." This wasn't a sermon or a grand doctrine; it was just something he'd learned the hard way.

They walked on, and the shift in the air hit him like stepping into another climate entirely. The cold crept in first, subtle and needling, followed by the deep undercurrent: rage, grief, and the raw edges of terror that hadn't had time to fade into memory. The Force around them felt bruised.

Ace glanced at him, and Lorn simply nodded once. "I feel it." He didn't elaborate or explain. This wasn't his place to name or diagnose.

As they crested the final rise and the ruins came into view, Lorn slowed. The remnants of Clan Vethrisa lay like a wound reopened. Structures were half-collapsed, and charred beams jutted like broken bone. The air here was thick and stagnant, heavy with the residue of violence so absolute it had bent the Force into a new shape around it.

Ace grimaced. Lorn felt the spike of grief ripple off him like a sharply caught breath. He didn't speak or reach out. Sometimes presence was the only right offering. He was scanning the ruins, reading the scars in the soil and the dark warp in the weave, when the voice cut through the clearing. It was old, brittle, and wrong.

Lorn turned sharply, his hand drifting toward his saber but not igniting it. The witch stood half-shrouded, small and bent, yet the Force coiled around her like smoke fed by something rotten. Her eyes fixed on Ace, then on him, and the oppressive weight behind her gaze prickled the edges of his senses.

Lorn stepped forward just enough to put himself half a stride between the witch and Ace. The move was subtle, instinctive, and protective. His stance lowered, his breath even, every line of his body ready without looking eager. He didn't speak or threaten. He simply watched her with the silence of someone who had survived monsters before, already calculating what it would take to survive one more.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

The woman's eyes flicked to Lorn as he stepped forward, amethyst gaze piercing through the older Jedi. A flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but it carried no warmth.

Ace noticed too, the way Lorn quietly stepped between him and the woman. He knew because it was that same quiet protectiveness that lived within himself. His expression didn't change, but there was a subtle gratefulness in his chest.

His metal hand gently clasped Lorn's shoulder and Ace took a step forward, glancing at Lorn with a knowing look. His eyes telling him "It's alright."

"Who are you?" He asked.

Was she a member of Clan Vethrisa? A survivor of Ace's massacre. His expression shifted at the thought, and the woman had caught it. Her lips curved into a knowing grin.

"I am not of this clan." She answered, as if she'd read his own thoughts. "But it's story echoes across Dathomir. And now, it's destruction."

Ace's jaw tensed and his eyes lowered.

"What you did that night, child." Her voice rasped with reverence and rot, like leaves crumbling underfoot. "The blood you spilled soaked not just the soil, but the veil itself. Grief. Rage. Betrayal. It twisted the weave into something new. Something raw. Powerful."

She stepped slowly across the crimson earth, her gaze never leaving Ace.

"It called to me. Not in words, no... but in hunger. A wound so deep it tore through the threads of the world and left its mark in shadow. And I came, as all things born of shadow do."

The tenseness in Ace's jaw loosened as his gaze lifted to meet her burning violet eyes. The fire behind his gaze had extinguished, replaced by the same shame that had clung to him for months.

"It was the first true act of a king." Her hand hovered, as if feeling the air where it happened. "You were born to end the old ways. And I have waited to see what comes next."

She did not forget Lorn. What he'd done earlier amused her, the way he stepped forward like a protector, as if the boy beside him was prey. She looked at him once more, eyes glowing like a dying star, and it was as if she saw through his flesh and bone, into the ache he kept buried behind armor and duty.

"And you... fallen knight of the forgotten war." She rasped. "How many names have you worn, how many blades have you buried in people you once loved?"

Her smile thinned into something crooked, and she stepped a little closer, tilting her head as if studying a wounded animal pretending it wasn't broken.

"You reek of guilt. It drips from your soul like sap from a dying tree. And still you pretend to guide him." Her gaze flicked to Ace. "When you've never known how to guide yourself."

Then, with a sneer more pitying than cruel.

"You were forged in grief and shaped by blood. But instead of sharpening the blade, you dulled it with shame. No wonder you cling to him… you hope he'll do what you never could."

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn didn't stop Ace when the kid's hand found his shoulder. He let himself be eased back half a step. Wordless trust passed between them. If Ace wanted to face her, Lorn would let him. He didn't move far, just enough to give him the front, but not enough to leave him exposed.

The witch's attention shifted. When her gaze landed on him, it was like bracing against a cold wind that knew his name. Every word she spoke hit true because she simply looked straight through the armor he'd welded together. She spoke the exact truths he lived: Fallen knight, forgotten war, blades in the people he loved, and guilt like sap from a dying tree. She noted he was clinging to Ace in hopes the boy would do what Lorn never could.

He didn't flinch or stiffen. He didn't deny a single syllable. The truth didn't wound him; it was too familiar, worn smooth by years of replaying it in the quiet hours. He let her finish. After the silence hung for a heartbeat, he exhaled once, slow and level, and finally spoke.

"If you think shame dulls my blade," he said quietly, "you misunderstand the nature of the wound."

His tone was neither sharp nor cold. It was simply the truth. He didn't step forward or posture. His stance eased, becoming deliberate and centered.

"I don't guide him because I believe I'm whole." His gaze held hers, steady as stone. "I guide him because I know what happens when no one is there to reach back."

"What he carries," Lorn continued, "is his own. Not mine. And it isn't my place to shape him into anything. Only to stand with him while he chooses who he becomes." His voice dropped a fraction. "And if that disappoints you… you'll survive the feeling."

He didn't raise a weapon or ignite his saber. But the air around him shifted. It became quiet, anchored, and completely unmoved by her rot or her insight. He was a man who had already survived what she named, and he would not be moved from the young man at his side.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace's gaze flicked to Lorn as he defied the witch's labels. The Jedi's words hung there, quiet and steady, truth that didn't try to save him... just stood beside him. Ace felt it land in his chest with a strange, grounding weight. The man wasn't posturing. Wasn't defending himself. Wasn't trying to be a martyr. He was just… there. Solid in a way Ace didn't realize he needed.

A breath slipped out of Ace, slow and steady. Not relief... acceptance.

"No." Ace said quietly.

Ace stepped forward. His prosthetic hand curled at his side, the metal catching the last strip of dying light.

"I'm not your king. I'm not your heir. I'm not whatever story you think I was born into." His jaw set, voice steady. "I'm not yours."

When his gaze returned to the witch, something in her face had changed. Her smile wasn't playful anymore. The subtle amusement drained from her eyes, leaving something colder, sharper, like she was reassessing a child she'd expected to be obedient. Her head tilted, almost imperceptibly, the way a predator tilts just before the bite.

She looked at Lorn as if he'd become an infection, and then Ace like she was remembering what she'd come for. The air moved, a low ripple through the dead village, stirring ash that hadn't been touched since his massacre.

"So the child believes he is ready to refuse his mother."

Ace twitched when she referred to herself as 'his mother'. Her smile returned, but it was wrong now, stretched too wide, too knowing, too patient.

"Very well." She whispered, the threads of the world tightening around her like a closing fist. "If you will not become what you were born to be… then you must be disciplined until you remember."

The air around her thickened. Sickly green light bled up through the cracked earth, threads of ichor-flame licking at the edges of her shadow. They didn't burn like fire. They bloomed. Emerald flame crawled up her ankles, her legs, her hunched spine. Ace felt it in his skull, in his teeth, in the socket of his prosthetic.

Her skin began to sag and then… split. Like layers, the frail, wrinkled flesh peeled back in ribbons of shadow, dropping away and disappearing before hitting the ground.

Her spine straightened, bone by bone, until she towered over them. The tatters of her robes lengthened into a black cascade that pooled around her feet and then kept going, tendrils dragging along the ground like a living shadow. Eyes, too many eyes, opened along the folds of that darkness, violet and unblinking, each one fixing on a different angle of the world.

Her face stretched until the human shape of it was only a suggestion. The mouth widened into a jagged, gleaming crescent, all teeth and hunger. The violet of her gaze burned brighter, echoed in every eye embedded in that halo of shadow writhing behind her like a nest of ink-black limbs.

"This..." She said, and the voice came from everywhere, from the ruins, the soil, the empty spaces between Ace's memories, "Is what your sorrow woke."

One of the shadow limbs uncurled, slow and deliberate, the violet eyes along it fixing on Lorn.

"And you..." She crooned, almost fond, "My weathered little blade… You will make a fine addition to the choir. So much regret. So much flavor."

The limb hovered in the air between them, not quite touching, but close enough that Lorn would feel the chill clawing at the edges of his soul. She lifted one long, shadowed hand toward Ace.

"Come, child. Stand against me. Learn how small you are… so you might finally grow into what you were meant to be."

The ichor around her flared violently, casting sickly green light across the ruins as every violet eye locked onto Lorn. The Mother of Teeth's arm split open like a rotten seam, unraveling into three razor-thin tendrils that snapped toward him in a single, lethal motion, one driving for his chest, one cutting low for his leg, one scything down toward his throat. The air hissed as they tore through it, the ground trembling beneath the force of her lunge.

Lorn Reingard

​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn didn't bother hiding the low, resigned groan that slipped out as the witch unfolded into her true form. This was going to be a fight, naturally. The force, it seemed, couldn't let him have one clean moment of clarity with the kid without immediately trying to kill them both.

He shifted his stance, shoulders setting, drawing a slow breath, ready. But nothing prepared him for the speed.

The first tendril hammered into his chest like a battering ram. The world snapped sideways. He hit the ground hard enough to punch dust into the air, sliding through ash until his ribs shrieked in protest. Before he could suck in a full breath, the second lashed across his thigh, white pain knifing up to his hip. The third scraped a burning line across his throat, shallow but far too close.

He rolled, instincts finally kicking in, and forced himself onto hands and knees. His joints protested. His ribs throbbed. For one bleak second, he hated the way age settled in places battle had once ignored.

"Shiraya," he muttered under his breath, half a cough, half a wince. "I'm getting too old for being thrown like that."

He pushed upright, wobbling once, then steadied himself with a slow exhale. The witch loomed ahead, a terrifying collection of eyes, teeth, and raw hunger. The air around her quaked like a living thing. Lorn didn't ignite his saber yet. He could have, but he didn't know how Ace wanted this to go.

His gaze cut to the young man. Ace stood rigid, caught between horror and fury, something raw flickering behind his eyes. The witch's words clung to him like barbs. Lorn wiped the blood from his throat with the back of his sleeve and straightened fully, despite the ache screaming through his ribs.

"Ace," he called, voice steady even now. "Tell me you're not planning on letting her toss me around all night."

There was no accusation in it. Just a quiet truth: he didn't want to strike first. Not against whatever twisted claim she had on the boy. But Force help him, if she came at him like that again, he wasn't going to keep eating dirt in the name of diplomacy.

His hand hovered near his hilt, not yet drawn, but waiting, anchored and ready.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace froze for half a heartbeat when the tendrils hit Lorn. The Force rippled through him like a punch to the gut, a flash of pain that wasn't his but felt close enough. His jaw clenched as Lorn rolled, rose, and steadied himself with that stubborn, weary grit.

Ace's eyes lifted to the Mother again. She was watching him, waiting to see what he'd do. Her many eyes blinked in slow, hungry satisfaction. Ace stepped forward, shoulders squaring, his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale. The fury in him wasn't loud. It wasn't fiery. It was cold, sharp enough to cut.

Lorn's voice pulled him back just enough.

"Tell me you're not planning on letting her toss me around all night."

Ace huffed once, almost a laugh, but too tight at the edges to be anything but anger wearing restraint.

"No." He said quietly. "Not a chance, old man."

His lightsaber snapped into his hand with a clean metallic click, not yet ignited, the gesture more like a promise than a threat. The shadow of the Mother loomed, all teeth and writhing eyes; the ichor-flames pulsed with her anticipation.

He slid one foot back into a ready stance, prosthetic hand flexing. The Mother's thousand-fold face curled into something like delight.

"Ah… there you are."

The shadows around her coiled, gathering for her next strike... either at Ace, or at Lorn again just to spite him. Ace didn't wait this time. Ace surged forward, boots kicking up red dirt as he threw himself between Lorn and the monstrous silhouette.

His lightsaber ignited mid-step with a snap-hiss, the blue glow carving through the ruined village's dim light, and he brought the blade down hard. The strike connected, carving through one of the Mother's tendrils.

But the severed limb dissolved instantly into smoke, reforming behind her like it had never been cut. The hit would buy Lorn space, but not safety.

Before Ace could reset, another tendril slammed into his guard. It ricocheted off his lightsaber and smashed into his prosthetic forearm. The impact rattled through the metal, shoving him back a half-step and sending a sharp electric twitch through the limb. On his back, Tic shrieked, a high, alarmed burst of binary.

The Mother's head rotated toward him, the motion too smooth, too fluid, too hungry.

"Mmm. A spark." Her grin deepened, all jagged teeth. "But still learning how to burn."

Her next strike began to gather, and this time, it was aimed at both Ace and Lorn.

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn saw Ace move. He saw the flash of blue, the clean arc of a strike, and for half a second he let himself believe they had a rhythm forming. That was exactly when another tendril snapped across his blind side and scooped him clean off his feet. "Motherfu-"

The rest vanished into a winded oof as he was hurled backward. He hit the ground hard, bounced once, then slid through ash until his spine jarred against a half-collapsed stone. He lay there for a moment, staring up at the swirling sky as pain radiated through his ribs.

"Shiraya help me," he wheezed. "Should've stayed on Naboo. No witches there. Just Gungans yelling at you.'"

He forced himself upright much faster this time. Pride could be a powerful anesthetic.

Ace's blade was a bright line in the chaos, blue light carving through the dark. Lorn answered it with his own. His golden saber snapped into existence. The warmth of it grounded him, cutting through the ache.

Ace's earlier slice bought him a breath of space, and Lorn used it. He stepped in behind the young man's guard, pivoted, and drove a clean strike into the tendril that had just slammed Ace's prosthetic. His blade cleaved it neatly in two, shadow spilling apart like smoke before knitting itself back together.

"Of course," he muttered. "Why would anything stay dead tonight?"

The witch's next attack came without pause. Two tendrils snapped toward both of them again, faster than thought. Lorn didn't bother trying to parry. He dove sideways, rolling through dust and shattered pottery. The heat of a tendril sliced the air just above his back.

He came up in a crouch much closer to her than any sane person would willingly stand. The Mother towered overhead, a mass of shifting eyes, teeth, and writhing shadow. Her presence felt like frost sinking into bone.

Lorn tightened his grip on the saber, steadied himself with one sharp inhale, and leapt forward. This wasn't a reckless charge; it was an anchored strike, all weight and focus.

He swung low for one of her shadowed legs, aiming for where her form seemed to gather thickest.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace leapt out of the way of the Mother's attack, using the Force to enhance the height of his jump. When he landed, Ace saw Lorn go in for the attack.​

​

[Rolled a 19 for the success of Lorn's attack].​

Lorn's blade hit like judgment. The golden arc slammed into the Mother's shadowed leg and didn't pass through this time. The ichor-flame around her flickered violently as the blade carved deep into one of the dense, knotted masses that held her true form together.​

​

A shriek ripped through the clearing, not from her mouth, but from every violet eye at once, all snapping shut in a cascade of pain. The shadow limb spasmed, collapsing into itself before re-knitting in a twisted, uneven shape.​

​

She stumbled. For the first time, the Mother of Teeth looked at Lorn with something that wasn't amusement. It was irritation. And hunger sharpened into violence.​

​

"You dare..." She hissed, voice layered and fractured. "A broken blade should not cut so deep."​

​

Her mass coiled upward, gathering into a towering silhouette as ichor-flames surged along the ground. She raised an arm and shadow condensed into a spear crackling with raw, toxic magic.​

​

The spear tilted toward Lorn. She wanted him dead now. No more playing with her food. The air snapped tight, pressure crushing against their ribs.​

​

She hurled it. A spear of pure, twisted ichor, streaking toward Lorn with lethal speed.​

​

[Rolled a 16 for the success of Ace's interception]​

Ace moved before the spear even crossed half the clearing. His lightsaber met it mid-flight in a clean, decisive arc, blue light crashing against roiling green-black ichor. The collision burst in a violent spray of sparks and shadow. The spear split cleanly in two, each half dissolving into smoke as Ace staggered back a single step, prosthetic arm shuddering from the blow.​

​

Lorn was untouched and every one of the Mother's eyes snapped toward Ace at once, the delighted hiss rolling through her like a pulse.​

​

The ichor around her surged once more, shadows knotting together before erupting outward in a jagged fan. A wave of tendrils whipped toward him and Lorn at blinding speed, faster than the spear, less precise but overwhelming in sheer mass.​

​

"You are not her son. You are mine now."​

​

The ground cracked beneath her lunge as the swarm of shadow-limbs hurtled toward them, poised to engulf Ace first and drag him under.​

​

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn didn't savor the hit he landed; there was no time for pride. But the moment her shriek tore through the clearing, he felt the shift. This was real damage. Real pain. For the first time, she was finally focused on him.

Her eyes, too many and too bright, fixed on him with fury. Lorn muttered under his breath, ribs aching.

Then came the spear. Raw ichor hardened instantly into a lethal spike. Lorn only had time to tense before Ace moved, cutting it clean in half with a blue streak of light. The resulting blast of shadow washed over them, cold and stinging. Lorn exhaled, steadying himself. Ace had his back. But the Mother wasn't done.

The ground buckled as she lunged. A fan of tendrils exploded outward, too many to count, forming a tidal wave of writhing shadow aimed to crush and swallow them both. Lorn didn't think; he simply reacted. His hand snapped out, palm open. The Force slammed into place, a barrier crackling gold at the edges, bracing against the avalanche of limbs. The impact rattled his bones. Every tendril that struck sent a vibration down his shoulders and spine; the pain in his ribs spiked with each blow. The barrier held, but barely.

Ash whipped around them in spiraling gusts as cracks spidered through the shield. Lorn gritted his teeth, muscles shaking. Then he saw her intent shift. She was no longer focused on him. The Mother's shape blurred; one massive limb coiled back, designed not to strike, but to drag. She wanted to take him.

"No," Lorn breathed, voice low and absolute. Before the shield fully collapsed, he reached with the Force, ignoring defense and pulling only for his saber. The golden blade snapped away from his hand, lifted by an invisible grip, and hurtled toward the Mother of Teeth. He didn't aim for a limb this time. He threw it for her core, the place her form gathered thickest, where her power knotted like a heartbeat.

The blade spun end over end, humming as it cut through the air; a bright, clean line of light aimed straight at the monster reaching for Ace.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

The tendrils hit like a storm, too fast and way too many. Ace barely got his lightsaber up before the first blow crashed against it, the impact slinging him sideways in a spray of red ash. The second tendril slammed across his back, a blunt-force hit that punched the air from his chest and sent him staggering down to one knee.

The third went straight for his prosthetic. The strike rang out in a sharp, ugly clang. His beskar plating held, but the limb bucked violently, servos whining as the joints nearly hyperextended. Sparks spat off the wrist seam. Ace hissed through his teeth, shaking the numbness from the fingers.

The Mother's voice rolled over him like rancid breath: "Metal. A hollow limb for a hollow heir."

Ace's eyes snapped up, but then the world shifted. A crack of gold light flared beside him. Lorn's barrier slammed into place, shielding them both just as the next wave of limbs tore down. Tendrils hammered the shield, every impact making the air shudder. Ace felt each hit vibrate through the ground, through his boots.

Lorn held. Barely. When the barrier splintered and Lorn diverted his strength away from defense, calling his lightsaber through the Force in a blazing arc, Ace's breath caught for half a second. The golden blade ripped through the air, aimed dead center for the Mother's core.

[Rolled a 5 for success of Lorn's attack]
For a heartbeat, Ace thought it would land.

Then every eye on the Mother snapped open at once. She shifted. She collapsed inward, her mass folding like a reef of shadow recoiling into itself. The lightsaber sliced through where her heart should've been, cutting only smoke and rot-thick air before embedding itself in a dead tree behind her.

A dozen violet eyes turned toward Lorn, stretching wide in mock surprise.

"Your aim trembles, little blade."

Ace moved again, darting directly toward the Mother. As he did so, a tendril lashed out, impossibly fast toward Lorn's chest. With his current momentum, Ace couldn't break away and intercept - he hoped, prayed Lorn had an answer.

[Rolled a 14 for the success of Ace's attack]
His blade came in low, not elegant - brutal. The Mother's tendrils snapped toward him, but Ace slammed into them shoulder-first, tanking the damage and forcing his way inside her reach.

His lightsaber carved upward in a vicious arc, cleaving through one of the thick, knotted masses near her midsection. The ichor-flame burst in a flare of sickly green, spraying sparks of shadow as the limb convulsed violently.

She reeled... but not far enough. Ace didn't give her the chance to reset. He drove his prosthetic arm straight into her, the beskar plating crunching into a tangle of writhing shadow-flesh. The impact shuddered through her entire form, the metal hand sinking deeper than any human limb would've survived.

Her shriek fractured the air. "Filth metal!" She hissed. "Clinging to you like a crutch!"

"Does the job." He fired back coldly.

The ground vibrated in response. Her mass rippled, swelling, ichor-flames gathering at her core as she prepared her next counterstrike.

A single massive tendril exploded outward, thicker than the others and blazing with sickly green ichor. It snapped toward Ace in a brutal, point-blank arc, aiming to rip him off his feet and drive him into the ground hard enough to break bone. The air between them warped from the force of it, the clearing pulled into a sudden, violent vacuum as the strike came down.

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn expected resistance. He didn't expect empty air.

His saber passed straight through the Mother's collapsing form, cutting nothing but smoke. It buried itself instead in a half-rotted tree with a heavy, useless thunk. For half a heartbeat, he just stared at the sputtering sparks where the blade had pierced the wood.

"...Fantastic," he muttered, deadpan.

He didn't have time to curse himself. A tendril was already snapping toward him.

He threw another barrier up, reflexive and desperate. The shield forming just in time for the tendril to hit like a battering ram. It punched through the barrier inches from his face. The impact caught him full in the chest.

Lorn's breath vanished in a single violent jolt. He flew backward, skidding across the ground until he slammed onto his side. Pain ripped through his ribs, a sharp, wrong kind of pain that promised bruising.

Through the ringing in his ears, he saw Ace slamming into the Mother with metal and fury, carving her apart with his saber and bare stubbornness. The kid was holding her attention. She was charging something. The air rippled around her, dense and sharp. Every instinct in Lorn screamed that the next hit would be much worse.

He didn't have the luxury of staying down. Lorn pushed to his feet with a hiss, one hand pressed to his ribs. He could barely breathe, but clarity cut clean through the pain.

His job wasn't to kill her. His job was simple: give Ace an opening.

He reached into the Force, grabbing hold of whatever he could find with raw intent. A massive tree trunk, thick as a speeder, lurched upward as if pulled by a giant's hand. The strain shot fire up Lorn's arms, sweat prickling across his brow.

He hurled it.

The entire trunk whipped through the air with crushing speed. This projectile was far too large for the Mother to ignore. It would force her to defend, to break her focus on Ace for even a blink. That was enough.

Lorn pulled his saber back through the Force. The golden blade tore free from the tree behind her, arcing cleanly toward his outstretched hand. He caught it mid-charge as he sprinted in behind the flying trunk, closing the distance with a grim, steady determination.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

The tendril meant for Ace came down like a falling tree. He twisted at the last second, the blow skimming across his shoulder instead of crushing straight through him. Even as a glancing hit, it felt like being struck by a slab of iron, the impact ripped a grunt from him and sent him skidding sideways, boots carving trenches in the ash until his prosthetic punched into the ground and stopped his fall.

Pain sparked up his arm, sharp and hot. His shoulder throbbed where the tendril had caught him, the fabric torn and smoking from whatever foul energy clung to the strike. Tic shrieked behind him, the little droid hopping in panic, lens flickering wildly between Ace and the towering monster.

The Mother loomed over him, all teeth and coiling shadow, every violet eye narrowing in unison. The ichor around her pulsed once, before the mass of her shadow shifted again, preparing to strike while Ace was still recovering.

His attention, however, shifted to Lorn - to check in on him for a moment. That's when he saw it, the Jedi Knight hauled a massive trunk into the air, a wild, desperate swing of power that should've cracked the whole clearing in half. Ace seized the opening Lorn had created, and for a split second, hope flickered.

[Rolled a 6 for the success of Lorn's attack]
The Mother didn't even blink. A single tendril snapped forward, faster than thought. It punched straight through the trunk, shattering it into a burst of exploding splinters... and kept going. The same tendril speared through the debris and slammed into Lorn mid-charge.

Tic shrieked behind Ace, a rapid burst of panicked chirps, and Ace didn't need translation. The message was obvious. A failed opening wasn't no opening. It was just a tighter, more dangerous one. Ace angled toward the flank the moment the Mother's attention shifted.

He surged forward, slipping beneath a writhing mass of limbs, aiming to strike the second even a sliver of her guard dipped.

[Rolled a 2 for the success of Ace's attack]
But the second he closed the gap he knew he'd misread her.

The Mother didn't retreat. Her tendrils shifted, not outward but inward, folding like a blooming flower of teeth and shadow. Ace's swing came in clean, his blade angled to cut deep, only for a tendril to snap around his wrist mid-strike, halting his strike. Another limb slammed across his ribs, hard enough to knock the breath from him and stagger his footing. A third clipped his thigh, spinning him sideways in the dirt.

Tic shrieked, a frantic mechanical wail, as Ace hit the ground, lightsaber skidding a hand's breadth away. Before he could reach for it, her voice poured down over him. A tendril curled beneath his chin, lifting his face just enough that every violet eye could drink in his struggle.

"You step toward me..." She hissed, "...and you break like wet clay."

The ichor around her core pulsed, like a heartbeat made of poison. Every shadow-limb drew inward, coiling with purpose. She wasn't lashing out wildly this time. She was choosing how to hurt.

Her focus split cleanly: For Ace, the tendril hovering over him thinned to a needlepoint, not angled to kill, but to puncture, pin, and break. Discipline made manifest. A lesson carved into flesh.

For Lorn, another tendril rose in a sweeping arc, thicker, pulsing with hunger. That one would not stop at bruising. That one would burrow, drag, consume.

The Mother lowered her head, teeth glinting like a crescent of bone. "Come now, child…" Her voice slithered down to Ace, almost gentle. "A wayward heir must be shaped."

Her gaze snapped to Lorn, and every violet eye burned with starvation.

"And the outsider must be stripped clean."

Both tendrils snapped forward: one to break, one to devour...

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn didn't remember the moment the tendril hit him, only the feeling of the world jerking sideways. One second he was sprinting, and the next he was airborne.

He hit the ground hard, rolled twice, and came to rest on his back. Every breath scraped against bruised ribs. The sheer impact shook him completely, blurring the edges of his vision. The Mother's shriek cut through the haze, immediately followed by Ace's body slamming into the earth nearby.

Lorn forced himself up onto an elbow, spitting grit. "Perfect," he rasped. "Absolutely perfect."

The Mother's tendril shot toward him, thick and spiraling, sharp enough to gut him on contact. Lorn didn't think. He let the Force drag him sideways, rolling out of its path just before the impact carved a crater where he'd been lying moments before. His knees buckled when he finally got to his feet, but he ignored the instability. Pain was background noise now.

Ace was pinned. Lorn felt the kid's panic spike in the Force, raw and sharp. The Mother was tightening her hold, but her attention was split, just enough. Lorn took the opportunity.

He extended both hands, dragging in breath and Force in equal desperation. The splintered remains of the shattered tree trunk shuddered where they'd fallen, then rose. Dozens of jagged shards, some as long as his forearm, lifted from the ground like a storm of broken spears. His arms trembled violently under the strain.

The splinters shot forward in a barrage, whistling through the air at vicious speed. Lorn didn't stop. He couldn't. His free hand curled, and brilliant gold light gathered at his palm. It formed a focused beam, blinding-bright and crackling with the same energy that lived in his saber. He thrust the beam directly toward her eyes.

"Come on, kid," he whispered through his teeth. "Take it." He didn't know how many more distractions he had left in him.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

The tendril was already dropping toward him, a needle of shadow aimed to pin him clean through the shoulder. Ace didn't dodge this one. He slammed his palms into the earth and detonated.

The Force ripped outward in a brutal shockwave, blasting a crater of ash around him. The incoming tendril jerked off-course, the impact of the repulse slamming into the Mother's whole mass at once. Her limbs snapped back like ropes whipped in a storm, ichor-flames guttering in a sudden stutter of surprise.

She reeled, but it wasn't enough. Every violet eye snapped wider, narrowing again in a single irritated twitch. Ace pushed off the ground, breath sharp, dust curling off his shoulders, just as Lorn's power surged behind him.

Splinters rose into the air, and a brilliant gold beam flared at Lorn's palm, scorching across the clearing toward the Mother's cluster of eyes.

[Rolled a 9 for Lorn's attack]
She reacted. Fast. Tendrils knotted tight into a shield as the barrage struck. Splinters detonated against her guard in a storm of wooden shrapnel. The golden beam carved a scalding line across several eyes, forcing them shut with a hiss like burning sap. It didn't stop her, but it forced her to defend, breaking her rhythm.

Ace surged into the opening like lightning, the kind of instinctive, absolute commitment you only get once a fight hits the marrow. His lightsaber came down in a clean, perfect arc, all weight, all intent, the kind of strike meant to end things.


[Rolled a 1 for Ace's killing blow]
And the Mother of Teeth moved. She just vanished from the arc of his blade. Her mass collapsed downward like a sinkhole of shadow, Ace's lightsaber cut through empty air where her core had been a heartbeat earlier. Momentum dragged him forward. Exactly what she wanted.

A tendril uncoiled beneath him and snapped upward, catching his wrist mid-swing, holding him like a trapped animal.

Another tendril hooked around his ankle. Another across his ribs. Not crushing. Restraining. And then she rose.

The Mother's face, that jagged crescent of teeth and violet eyes, lifted right into his blind spot, inches from his cheek, her breath cold as grave-soil.

"Little heir…" She crooned, voice threaded with delighted contempt, "You do not kill what shapes you."

Her grip tightened just enough for his joints to scream.

"You overreach."

Ace strained against the tendrils, muscles locked, teeth bared. His saber hand trembled uselessly at his side, pinned so tightly the blade couldn't even angle. Pain flared across his ribs where one limb cinched down... but he refused to fold.

"I'll... kill you..." He hissed through strain.

She didn't respond this time, only smiled, hauling him half-upright, displaying him to Lorn like a caught animal, violet eyes drifting inches from his face. A tendril curled around his throat, not choking, just promising.

A single tendril drew back, razor-thin, aimed to drive into Ace's side and force him to his knees. It snapped forward...

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn saw the strike coming for Ace's ribs before Ace himself did. His own attack hadn't stopped her. It had barely slowed her down. The beam had forced the Mother's eyes shut, and splinters had torn at her limbs, but she'd slid through the assault like water through fingers. Now she held Ace, clearly intending to twist him into something else. The thought made something hot and sick twist behind Lorn's ribs. He didn't think, he just moved.

The tendril poised to spear Ace snapped forward, but Lorn was already there. His saber hit with a crack of gold light, cleaving through the stabbing appendage in a single stroke. The severed limb disintegrated into a spray of oily vapor. Every violet eye on the Mother snapped toward him. Lorn didn't stop. He couldn't afford precision; he needed violence. He stepped into the mess of limbs holding Ace and unleashed a rapid flurry of clean, hard cuts driven by instinct and desperation.

Lorn's cuts severed the tendril around Ace's wrist, the one hooked at his ribs, and the coil at his ankle. The Mother jerked back in shock, her shadow mass recoiling as her grip failed. Ace dropped to the ground with a thud, sucking in a harsh breath as he scrambled clear.

The Mother screamed. It wasn't the shriek of a wounded creature, but pure, vengeful rage. Her entire form convulsed, and ichor-flames flared from her core like bursting veins of sickly fire. Every remaining limb snapped outward in a circle, carving trenches in the ground. Lorn braced his stance. His chest heaved, his golden blade held low and steady. His arms shook, his ribs burned, and his vision flickered at the edges, but none of it mattered. She was focused entirely on him now, and that was exactly what he needed.

"Together," he muttered to Ace without looking, his voice tight but steady. "We move as one." The Mother of Teeth towered above them, all eyes narrowing to slits of venomous, pulsing violet. Her voice crawled through the clearing like rot.

"Outsider… you steal from me."

Lorn lifted his saber, jaw set.

"Come take him back."