Faction The Mountain Doesn’t Care If You’re Comfortable | The Jedi Order

[Lossa Aureus]

Rimos - Ediach - Northern Continent
Jedi Robes | Poncho | Echo Stone
Lightsaber | Turmoil | Concealed Blaster​

The mountain rose like a white monolith under the cold azure glow of Rimo, the system’s subgiant star. Here, in the high ranges of Ediach on the northern continent of Rimos, the air tasted sharp and clean, carrying the faint scent of frost and mineral stone. Snowfields draped the slopes between jagged ice cliffs, and the wind that swept through the valley carried a low, distant howl that could have been weather or the cry of some unseen mountain avian.

Base camp had been established on a shelf of ice-polished stone. Thermal tents and climbing equipment were weighed down against the gravity, which felt just a touch heavier than most worlds the Padawans had trained on. The Jedi Order banners fluttered pale under the blue-tinted sky, and their shadows stretched long in the thin light.

Padawans stood in layered cold-weather gear, boots reinforced and gloves insulated, their breath misting as they warmed their hands. Some whispered quietly, taking in the alien stillness of the place. Others stared up at the mountain’s ascent disappearing into wind-whipped clouds, as if it were assessing them in return.

Battlemaster Lossa Aureus stepped forward at the head of the assembled group. The winter light glimmered along the patterns woven into her poncho. Her voice carried easily, neither raised nor forced, but anchoring every ear and every thought.

"Padawans, Knights," she said, "The mountains of Rimos do not yield easily. They ask patience, presence, and endurance. This course is not a test of victory over the peak. It is a test of how you meet your limitations, and how you call upon the Force not as a tool, but as a companion."

She lifted a hand.

"At the base, we begin with Tapas. Many of you know the Force as something projected outward. To move, sense, or defend. Tapas turns that current inward. It is the acceptance of effort. The warming of the spirit beneath strain. It is the quiet refusal to let discomfort dictate your clarity." She gave the faintest smile, the kind that didn’t soften her authority but made her feel real. "You will feel cold. Let the cold be noticed, and nothing more."

She gestured toward an older man waiting near a cleared circle of meditation mats. Rhen Qel-Droma stood with hands clasped loosely behind his back. His Corellian features were weather-worn but kind, his posture relaxed in a way that suggested time had long ago taught him how to conserve effort. His cloak was patched in places, and the frost in his beard looked as intentional as any lecturing expression.

"Rhen Qel-Droma will guide your tapas instruction. He is older than he admits," she added with a faint smirk, earning a few quiet chuckles from the group, "And he has held a mountain’s patience in his bones for decades. Trust his instruction. Should your breath falter or your focus slip, you will find no judgment here. Only the task. Only the process. Only the Force."

Aureus turned then, nodding toward the trail that wound up the mountain in switchbacks carved through icy rock.

"When your bodies have settled into the rhythm of tapas, you will make the ascent to the mid-point plateau. There, we continue with Force Body Endurance. The climb itself is a lesson. The cold will challenge your focus. The elevation will test your lungs. Your steps are your own."

Her gaze sharpened, not to intimidate, but to ensure understanding.

"I will be on the path with you. I will keep the pace. But I will not assist unless you are in true danger. You are responsible for your effort. And for one another. Look to your peers. Strength is not isolation."

A hush settled, the kind born from anticipation and respect, rather than fear.
Lossa’s final words were steady and quiet.

"Prepare yourselves. The mountain will not come down to meet you."

The Padawans adjusted their gear. Gloves tightened. Packs settled. Breath slowed.

Rhen Qel-Droma stepped forward, the ghost of a smile resting in his eyes.

"First," he said, "We breathe."

And the training began beneath the cold, blue-light sky of Rimos.

Rhen Qel-Droma​

 

[Rhen Qel-Droma]

Rimos - Ediach - Northern Continent
Teaching: Tapas Training

Snow drifted lazily through the mountain air, settling on rock and robe alike. At the heart of the clearing, Master Rhen Qel-Droma stood in quiet composure when all eyes turned towards him upon Knight Lossa Aureus's introduction.

The Jedi Master's silver hair had flecks of snow land only to melt away, the weather lines of his tanned face tracing deeply into his skin. ON his right cheek and temple, one could see the faint pockmarks of amphistaff venom scars. A peppered beard softened their edges, but not their story, as beneath the folds of his sleeve those same scars crossed his forearm as a testament to his survival fighting the Yuzhan Vong several years ago.

"Thank you, Knight Aureus." He replied, his voice a deep baritone that resonated as he projected his voice for all the students to hear.

"Tapas," the Corellian Green Jedi said as he let the word settle, "is the art of using the Force for warmth and endurance. Of harmony between body and the Force. The cold is not your enemy here, it is simply the galaxy reminding you that you are alive."

Slowly, Rhen began to pace through the snow, leaving crisp footprints behind as his green eyes studied the Padwans and Knights before him. Some were eagerly listening; others were still wandering in with warm jackets to quell the cold, while he wore simple robes and actively used the Force to keep himself warm.

"Breathe. Feel the chill. Do not push it away. Let it move through you, and in doing so, find the warmth that lies beneath. The Force is not a barrier against nature it is merely the bridge through it."

With a faint nod, Rhen turned his gaze toward the gathered Padawans, his green eyes gleaming beneath the frost-lined lashes.

"Begin when you are ready. And remember...you are not here to fight the cold... but to learn from it. As you practice and master it, you will continue up the mountain and actively utilize Tapas until you reach the next station to learn how to utilize Force Body Endurance."

A nod and he gestured for them all to begin.

"If needed for those who need visual representations, perhaps a warm memory to tether yourself to and imagine being warm and wrapping yourself within its comfortable heat. Let that be your guide as you practice and continue to improve."


OOC: Work at your leisure and practice. Once you feel ready, continue and interact with others and socialize as you move up the mountain towards the next station, as you practice tapas.

 

[Isobel Serraris]

THE MOUNTAIN DOESN'T CARE IF YOU'RE COMFORTABLE​

Location — Rimos
Objective — Learn the basics of Tapas . . .
Tags — Open (contact me beforehand)
Paraphernalia — Lightsabers, Jedi Robes

Cold. That was the only thing she still felt, not her hands--not the Force--no, it was the eternal cold that clung to her body. The type to leave the environment barren and plain, with only the mountains of snow and ice to blind its inhabitants... and visitors. She had not been on Rimos for long, but was already regretting the moment she'd agreed to come. What could one even do here? Except for freezing to death or losing one's eyesight to photokeratitis--though she never was a pessimist, the lack of life in the region certainly forced it upon her now.

The Padawan kept moving her gloved hands over the other, trying to rub them hard enough to provide any semblance of warmth. All the while her eyes found the Zeltron and the older Human Jedi, listening closely to what they had to say of this quest today. Tapas, the word was unfamiliar to her, never to be read or heard when in the warm climate of Naboo. But here? Now? It was as if the puzzle pieces clicked together in her mind. Unfortunately... that comfort did not mean she would stop freezing. After all, she could not find a solution to the annoying shivering and the chattering of her teeth.

Right, what did they say... focus on the Force, focus on warm memories-- But the icy breeze kept her from holding onto these thoughts. As her mind trod a flimsy string, each passing breeze knocking her off balance, stealing her focus once more. Isobel tried to think back to the warm summers on Naboo, on the way they tried to cool down the family's Guarlaras at a nearby lake. But the memory faded, it came and went in the style of brief glimpses. She tried another, something more embarrassing, the type to leave her as red as the garden roses.

The blunder at the gala.

She could still picture it: The moment she forgot to step during the waltz, instead tripping and dragging her poor dance partner down onto the marble floor--like the fool she was. Her face had turned brighter than a star, as warm as the Nabooan Sun. It might not have been Tapas, but at least she hadn't become one with the icy nature just yet. . . And that alone was a small spark. A small victory.

​

 

[Kwei Vatani]

Tags: Open
Home. That was what this place reminded her of. The chill that nipped away at your skin. The frost that formed with every simple exhale. The abscence of warmth, feeling as if you'd never experience heat flow through your veins again. Yet for all of that, Kwei could not hide the smile that graced her face, grinning from ear to ear no matter how much it may have stung. Even at home, with very little control of the Force she had, Kwei had always managed to withstand far bitter temperatures to the rest of her community. It was today that she was finally learning how she had managed to do it. Tapas. Such a strange name for a technique. At least to her, but then again she wasn't entirely knowledgeable about the names of different techniques. Knowledge was valuable however, and this was going to be a technique that she would more than likely rely on more often than not.

A few exhales of air into her hands, Kwei did her best to warm up the palms, trying to make sure they didn't start to turn blue. To keep the blood flowing as she rubbed her hands together, taking in the sights of the others with her. It was clear to her that she may have been an outlier on enjoying the frost. A soft chuckle escaping her lips as she turned her gaze towards the challenge ahead of themselves. The cold was something she could deal with. The ascend would be far more difficult. Yet she put that thought to the back of her mind, the grin still plain to see on her face as she prepared to head off.

The cold flowed through Kwei's vein, almost as if ice itself moved with in her, but it only helped her to focus on where the warmth was. There was no need for her to push the cold away. People would try to push themselves through the pain, the chill, to fight against the biting frost, but Kwei accepted it. It allowed her to focus on where the warmth was within her. Her heart slowly but surely pumping warm blood throughout her, warm blood that slowly chilled as it moved. That was what the Force was for.

And so she focused on the flow of the Force throughout her own body, letting it push the warmth throughout her veins with every single step. Warmth pulsed with both every beat of her heat and the beat of her own steps, as she turned her head backwards, letting out a small shout to the rest.

"Come on! The sooner we get this done, the less time we need to spend in the cold."
​

 

[Sven Halestorm]

TO YEILD

Tags: OPEN​

The snow whispered against the folds of his cloak. Sven stood slightly apart from the others, not in pride, but in purpose. His breath drifted in quiet ribbons of vapor before him as he drew it slow and deep, listening to the cadence of Master Qel-Droma’s voice until it faded into the mountain’s silence.

The cold was honest. There was no malice in it, only truth, and truth had always been a fine teacher.

He closed his eyes. Beneath his boots, the frost bit into the stone, the faint hum of the wind threading through the ridges like a chorus of unseen spirits. He let that sound become his focus. The cold sank into him, first his fingers, then his bones, but he did not resist it. Instead, he let the sensation exist as it was: real, immediate, alive. Each breath deepened his stillness.

The Force, when sought inwardly, was not a river but a hearth. Its warmth began as a spark in his center, faint at first, then spreading slowly through his chest like kindling taking to flame. Tapas was not control, not dominance, but surrender to balance. He did not force the heat into being; he simply made room for it.

He could feel the moment when his body ceased to shiver. The tension that had clung to his muscles eased, replaced by an anchored calm that reached from his heart to the furthest edge of his fingertips. The cold was still there, but it no longer demanded his attention. It had become a part of the rhythm, the inhale, the exhale, the stillness between them.

Sven opened his eyes. The mountain remained vast and indifferent, its peak lost in a swirl of blue-gray clouds. He studied it for a long moment before adjusting the strap of his pack and stepping forward. Around him, the younger Padawans fumbled and shivered, but he offered no correction, no guidance, only example. The climb would be their own to undertake.

He started the ascent with measured steps, the crunch of snow beneath his boots blending into the soft murmur of the wind. The Force lingered within him, steady and warm, the quiet promise of endurance born not from defiance, but from harmony.

The mountain would not yield.

But neither would he.​

 

[Casaana]

Tags: Kwei Vatani Open

For some reason it seemed like no matter how good your survival gear was, your fingers and toes always ached with the cold. And you had to leave you face uncovered or the moisture in your own breath would get your face covering wet, and then it'd freeze. Even in her quilted survival one-piece and its enviroweave, parts of Casaana were cold. This was bantha poodoo, she was a tropical girl and would trade the cold for the beaches of Kattada any day.

A girl next to her with pink hair seemed to be doing well with the assignment and Casaana turned her rosy cheeks and red nosed face towards her and skeptically asked. "So it's like curato salva? Circulating the Force in our bodies, but instead of rejuvenation, we think of hot chocolate?" It seemed too easy, but the other padawan seemed to be enjoying herself reasonably well, so she clasped her hands, and went to the quiet place in the back of her mind to begin circulating energies. Slowly, it began to seem to help, the frigged icicles in her fingers eased up to just dull aches and tense muscles relaxed from how they'd been tensing with the cold. "Still feels like I've got it wrong." She frowned before brightening. "Oh! I'm Casaana. Hi!"

 

[Kwei Vatani]

Tag: Casaana

"I ain't got a clue what you're talking about."

Curato salva? Maybe Kwei needed to pay more attention in lessons to learn what that was. She did focus on perhaps too much of the practical side of things as opposed to the theoretical part of them. Either way, she threw her arms up into the air, spinning around on the heel of her foot to look behind herself for a moment at the others. Some might have felt as if she was showing off, but she wanted to make sure no-one else needed help. This was her element. Where she felt most at home. That didn't mean it worked for everyone. yet she spun her head around to look back at her new little taking buddy, giving them a bright grin.

"What was I gonna say...What did you say again...Oh. Hot Chocolate. Yeah. I guess you can think that. It can be as simple as you want. Hot Chocolate, the sight of a sunset, family. Whatever helps you to visualise warmth. Imagine it moving through you. Pulsing through you. It doesn't have to be a constant warmth."

With every word, a breath of frost escaped Kwei's mouth, yet not even that could stop the warm, fuzzy feeling flowing throughout her. Kwei watched for a moment, making sure that Casaana wasn't struggling too much. She seemed to be doing good enough. Even if the other girl thought she might not have been doing well.

"Oh. I'm Kwei. Nice to meet'cha Casaana. You've got this."​

 

[Rhen Qel-Droma]

​

Rimos - Ediach - Northern Continent
Teaching: Tapas Training

Kwei Vatani Casaana Sven Halestorm Isobel Serraris Lossa Aureus

The faint creak of boots against frost marked each of Rhen's steps befoe he paused beside Isobel, watching quietly as she found her rhythm. It took her a bit, but success came in the way her shoulders eased, and her shivering lessened, and the faint calm of focus began to replace strain.

She even had a slight flush to her cheeks, prompting a small, approving nod from the Corelian Jedi.

"Well done, young Lady Serraris," he praised her quietly as he encouraged her.

"Maintain that, and you should do well. Continue your practice for a few more moments and when you feel ready, begin the ascent to the next station. The goal is to move while holding the state of Tapas to the point that it becomes second nature, freeing your mind to focus elsewhere should you need to defend or protect yourself."

He inclined his head once more before stepping away, the hem of his cloak whispering over the snow.

Further ahead, he came upon two young women, one with bright pink hair, the other brunette, chatting amid the frost. He caught the tail end of Casaana's comment, the corner of his mouth tugging into the faintest smile beneath his beard.

"Indeed," he said with the ease of someone long accustomed to teaching in open air. "Much like Curato Salva. In my last class on the subject, Padawans were tasked with purging a rather unpleasant tonic from their systems...."

His tone softened with a trace of humor.

"The goal with this is to actively channel the Force through your body to maintain warmth, regulating your temperature rather than resisting the cold outright as you proceed to the next station."

That emerald gaze shifted toward Kwei and nodded in agreement.

"A sound suggestion. Visualize something simple, hot chocolate, a sunlit shore, a fire at dusk. Nothing extreme. Just enough to help your body remember what warmth feels like."

 

[Casaana]

Tags: Kwei Vatani Rhen Qel-Droma Open

What?!? How could someone not know curato salva? It was like the first thing anyone taught anybody! Her eyes widened in surprise, but she was too polite to say anything on the topic. Not everyone started Jedi training as a youngling. It was also possible that Casaana was misremembering something she'd taken for granted most of her life. Surreptitiously, she poked a finger into Kwei's side to find she was as skinny as she looked under all that cold weather gear the Masters had piled on the Padawans. Maybe that was it, she didn't know how to rejuvenate and heal her muscles after exercising, or like Master Rhen suggested, clearing the body of toxins exercise built up, along with other poisons. Instead, she tactfully replied to the rest of Kwei's advice.

"Never had family, just the Orders." Even in them, she'd been bounced around temples quite a bit. Always looking for a Master that never quite materialized or moving as the politics of the galaxy ended one Jedi Order and started another. "Got some good friends though!" She brightened and tried thinking of Persi, but the last time they'd been together hadn't been so great, and before that they were riding skimmer boards borrowed from her brother. That had been a lot of fun, but they'd done it in a ski resort and that reminded her of the cold too. Kattada's tropical beaches just reminded her of home and not being here, so she found herself circling back to hot chocolate.

Still circulating the Force, she hopped from foot to foot, feeling much better now that she'd gotten positive reinforcement that she was doing it right. "Hmm, still kinda feels like I'm just healing back the energy the cold takes, but!" She shrugged, that's how thermodynamics and warming something cold worked. And she felt warm, at least everywhere that wasn't her face and the very tips of her fingers and toes. So she was good. "So you hang out in the cold often?" She asked Kwei, curious about the other girl.

 

[Kuhbee]

​

Location: Mountain
Equipment: Translation Droid | Lightsaber | Jedi Robes |
Tags: Nien Isobel Serraris

​

Kuhbee was a little nervous for training that day. It wasn't the cold that bothered him because his thick, russet fur kept him well insulated against the biting wind sweeping across the icy plain. While the other Padawans shivered beneath layers of thermoweave cloaks, Kuhbee's natural coat made the chill almost pleasant by comparison. No, what worried him wasn't the trek through the snow but it was what came after. When the instructors called a halt and the group gathered around a campfire for warmth, that was when his stomach always twisted with unease.

Even from a distance, the sight of open flame unsettled him. Its unpredictable movement, its color that danced between life and destruction, it reminded him of the great fire that had once torn through the Wroshyr grove near his family's village on Kashyyyk. He'd been just a cub, barely old enough to walk, but the memory of the heat and the screams had been seared into his mind. Now, as a Padawan in training, he was ashamed that something so simple could still make his heart race. The flame had been his foe during his captivity with the Empire as well. There were still patches in his fur where burn scars lay. The fur would never grow back and the exposed skin there was starting to bite in the cold.

He knew the Jedi taught control and discipline of the mind, mastery over emotion, but for Kuhbee, those lessons felt like trying to tame a hurricane. Wookiees were known for their tempers, their strength, their passion. And Kuhbee, for all his effort, still struggled to keep that volcanic anger and fear contained. He wanted to be calm, serene, composed like the others… but the truth was, he was far behind his peers in that regard.

With a low rumble of determination, the young cub hoisted his pack onto his broad shoulders. Snow dusted his fur as he clipped his small translation droid to his belt. The little machine chirped indignantly in protest at being folded up.

"You could at least warn me before clipping me to your belt like luggage," it grumbled in Basic, its voice tinny through the speaker grille.

Kuhbee gave a soft huff of amusement, the sound somewhere between a growl and a chuckle. "Rrrhaa! Hrrrhh!"

[It's only until we reach the ridge,] the droid translated reluctantly. [And please, try not to fall again this time.]

Kuhbee's deep brown eyes scanned the group ahead until they landed on a familiar figure, Nien, his new roommate. The thought filled him with a burst of excitement that almost made him forget his worries. It had taken the Temple administrators a long time to find someone willing to room with a Wookiee, and Kuhbee had feared he'd be stuck in solitary quarters forever. But Nien hadn't seemed afraid of him at all and if anything, he'd been curious, friendly even.

Kuhbee started forward through the snow, eager to catch up. But enthusiasm and coordination rarely went hand in hand for him. A clump of snow compacted awkwardly beneath his massive paw, and he stumbled with an awkward growl. His long arms windmilled, and before he could right himself, he collided into another Padawan, Isobel Serraris.

The impact sent a puff of snow into the air as Kuhbee scrambled to steady her, roaring in alarm.

"Rrraugh! Hrrrawr!"

[I'm sorry!] his droid chirped from his belt, its monotone voice cutting through the commotion.


The droid sighed. [Well, at least you didn't fall on her this time. Progress, I suppose.]

Kuhbee rumbled in soft irritation but couldn't help the small, sheepish smile that crept across his muzzle. He straightened up, offering a respectful nod to Isobel and looking guilty.

​

 

[Nien]

Kuhbee Isobel Serraris
​

In his heart, Nien felt pure joy, gentle and content, not pride or triumph. He was quietly happy to be here today, and he had listened deeply, feeling a sense of belonging. He opened his eyes, ears flicking as the blue horizon sharpened. The path to the plateau stretched high, vanishing into icy mist. His pack was nearly as tall as he was, but that didn't matter.

He gazed upward with bright, resolute eyes.

"Climb we must." he murmured softly. "But together, hmm?"

He rose, and fell in beside the others, his short legs moving quickly. The wind caught his hood again, tugging playfully, as if the mountain approved.

Though the air bit colder with every step, Nien's spirit stayed warm, not because the Force shielded him, but because he had learned to share his warmth with the world.

Nien had been walking just ahead of Kuhbee and Isobel, his small boots leaving a neat trail of shallow prints in the snow. The mountain wind hummed softly, and for a moment, he was lost in the rhythm of his breath in and out, calm and centered. Then came the sound a startled Wookiee growl, followed by the unmistakable crunch of heavy boots losing balance.

His large ears perked up. He turned just in time to see a wall of fur and limbs barreling straight toward him.

"Ohhh no, no, no!"

Nien squeaked, diving sideways into the snowbank with surprising speed for someone his size. A muffled whump followed, and a spray of white powder cascaded down over him. For a few long seconds, nothing moved but a faint twitch beneath the drift.

Then, slowly, a small green head emerged from the snow. His large eyes blinked, round and dazed, his ears drooping beneath a tiny cap of ice. A little puff of frost left his mouth as he exhaled.

He looked from Kuhbee to Isobel, both upright, though flustered and gave a soft, squeaky laugh that trembled somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

"Mmhm… very close, that was." he said, shaking snow from his robe. "Like an avalanche, only friend-shaped."

A few nearby Padawans snickered as Nien wriggled free from the snow, brushing off his sleeves and adjusting his pack. Despite the mishap, he seemed completely unbothered, his smile bright as ever. He turned to Kuhbee, voice warm and earnest. "Good reflexes you have, yes. Maybe next time, aim less at me?"

And with that, he tottered back into place with them, still chuckling softly a little green figure in a sea of white, eyes alight with good humor and the unshakable calm of someone who found joy even in being buried by snow.

 

[Sven Halestorm]

LIGHT

Tags: OPEN​

The first stretch of the climb began beneath a jagged shelf of ice, where the wind funneled through a narrow pass and turned each breath into a pale ghost that fled into the storm. Sven Halestorm moved with quiet precision, his cloak drawing thin trails in the snow behind him. Around him, the mountain groaned with the shifting of ice, the deep, sonorous creak of ancient weight pressing against itself. It was not a place for voices; the mountain made certain of that.

He paused only once, resting a gloved hand against the cold surface of stone. The contact grounded him. Beneath his palm, he could feel the subtle tremor of life that existed even here, the pulse of the world beneath the frost, slow and eternal. The Force hummed through it, patient and unbending. It asked for nothing. It simply was.

Behind him, the soft sounds of other climbers carried through the wind, Padawans breathing in time with their effort, boots crunching, the occasional quiet murmur between them. He did not turn. His task was his own. If they drew steadiness from his pace, then that was teaching enough.

The next incline was steeper. He leaned forward into it, letting his body adjust to the rhythm the way a musician would settle into a tempo. The strain was a language of its own, the ache of muscle, the draw of lungs against the thin air, the frost clinging to his beard. But pain, he’d long ago learned, could be a form of presence. When the body spoke, the mind was reminded to listen.

A ridge loomed ahead, its edge caught in a glint of light where the clouds briefly parted. Sven reached it after several quiet minutes, the climb neither rushed nor delayed. The view that greeted him was a cathedral of ice and sky, endless white valleys folding into one another, their borders drawn by wind and shadow. Below, the base camp looked impossibly distant, a scatter of small figures moving through the snow.

He took a slow breath, and the Force answered in kind. Warmth threaded through his chest once more, steady and centered. Tapas. The word came to him not as instruction, but as memory. He recalled a night on Chandrila, guiding a frightened child through the darkness of the night. “The light is not something you hold,” he had told him then. [/color]“It is something you become.”

The memory faded, but its warmth lingered.

Sven turned his gaze upward, toward where the mountain vanished into the clouds. Somewhere above that mist lay the plateau, where the next lesson waited, Force Body Endurance, the mastery of will through motion. The kind of teaching that left no room for illusion or ease.

He adjusted his stance, testing the weight in his legs. The wind bit harder here, sharper, colder, but it no longer reached him as it had below.

“The mountain will not come down to meet you,”

Lossa Aureus had said.

Sven smiled faintly beneath his breath. “Then I suppose we climb.”

And with that, he ascended once more, one step at a time, quiet as snowfall, steady as the Force itself.

 

[Ensy]

☽ Ensy ☾

The cold hit harder than Ensy expected when he stepped out of the tent. The air felt thin and sharp, biting at his cheeks and slipping under his collar. He pulled his hood a little lower and took a steady breath.

Aiden walked beside him as they crossed the small stretch of snow toward the training group. The Padawans out in the open were already focused on Tapas or beginning the climb up the mountain path, their breaths misting in the air. No one paid much attention to newcomers; everyone was wrapped up in their own effort.

Ensy stayed close to the edge of the group. It felt easier there, less eyes, less pressure. He watched the others quietly for a moment, taking in how they held themselves, how they breathed through the cold.

He let out a slow exhale and tried the same, settling his feet in the snow and bringing his hands in close for warmth. The cold didn't fade, but he didn't lock up either. He could handle this much.

Ensy kept his attention on his breathing, taking his time, joining the exercise without drawing attention to himself. Aiden's presence with him easing his weary-ness about joining the others.

"Does what I am doing feel right in the force Master Porte?" he asked with a confused look on his face. "I don't feel much warmer."

OOC - OPEN! Hiiiiiiii everyone
Aiden Porte

 

[Lossa Aureus]

Rimos - Ediach - Northern Continent
Jedi Robes | Poncho | Echo Stone
Lightsaber | Turmoil | Concealed Blaster​

The air never welcomed them. It simply whipped around them as it would an ice-formed column. Her own speech delivered, Lossa felt she could finally relax a little. A deep breath in as the reminder of Jakku's heat washed through her mind.

Pushing away the cold as her body adjusted to the feeling. Content in her less than optimal gear for a wintery trek through the mountains.

Some of those that had arrived were still here, listening to instructions or speaking with one another. Others had already begun the process of ascending to the next section of training. Her ruby eyes trailing after those making their way up before sliding further ahead to predict which path they would take. Having already walked the majority of the mountain, she had a decent idea of where she would need to split her attentions.

Her eyes shifting back to Rhen as she listened intently to how he spoke. The way his tone shifted. Inserted humor and hints of further knowledge to entice his audience to listen rather than simply brush aside what he was offering.

A pang of jealousy settling into the back of her heart as she frowned.

Averting her eyes for a moment to dissect the feeling. Chasing it deeper to understand. Was it that she was jealous? Why did it so deeply affect her that these students took to him so mindfully without issue? The memory of Brandyn's padawan coming to mind as she sighed and understood a little better.

Perhaps if she had held Rhen's patience and knowledge, the girl might have not rebuked her efforts. But even if she had the same experience and knowing the Corellian held, it did not change what had happened or might have happened. It was already done. Returning to the past was something she could do freely.

But no one would be waiting for her there.

She settled the matter within herself with a reminder. It was done. And dwelling on it stopped herself from making forward progress. Instead, focusing that energy to something that would help to stop such things from happening again.

And the mention of another skill gave her the perfect opportunity. This time the battlemaster approached him, a warmth to her smile.

"Master Qel-Droma, thank you for providing your time and knowledge for this training." A sly smile appearing as she continued with a glance to Casaana. "If you wouldn't mind, I think a future class on Curato Salva would be welcome."

Her hands twined together behind her back as she turned again without separating herself from his side. Glancing once more up the slope to see Sven holding for a short time before continuing on. A warmth to her smile at the perseverance he showed before she turned back to the group.

"I would like to remind everyone that this is not a contest with your peers, but a testing of limits. But it looks like Knight Halestorm is aiming for the first mug of hot cocoa at the top."

Rhen Qel-Droma | Isobel Serraris | Kwei Vatani | Sven Halestorm | Casaana | Kuhbee | Nien | Ensy​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

THE MOUNTAIN DOESN'T CARE IF YOU'RE COMFORTABLE​

Location — Rimos
Objective — Learn the basics of Tapas . . .
Tags — Nien Kuhbee
Paraphernalia — Lightsabers, Jedi Robes

Whilst warmth remained a distant prospect, it was no longer the freezing cold that dominated her senses. Rather... the unwelcome intrusion of a flurry of embarrassing thoughts; stumbles at the fête, the rejection of a childhood crush and much more. It would have nigh on frozen her into the landscape, if it was not for the Corellian's voice piercing through the icy walls. His praise was unsurprising, though it seemed whatever she had been doing was correct. . . in a way. The Padawan inclined her head and tried to force a thankful smile, even as her teeth began to chatter in the cold. "Thank you, Master Rhen." She noted, before looking toward the trail up the mountain. "A second nature. . . I shall keep that in mind." Were the last words she could say, before the Jedi Master moved onto the other pairs.

The other Padawans--and knights--seemed to be doing just fine handling the technique. And though jealousy was unjedi-like, she could not avoid the light pang of hurt it placed within her mind and heart--prodding relentlessly at her hopes to become a great Jedi Knight someday. Why did she struggle with this more than the rest did? Was it the fact she was thinking more than doing it? Mayhap. But this ability was more a state of mind, so did it not revolve around thinking? Isobel could not be certain anymore, and yet standing around doing nothing would not bring her any closer to the next station higher up the mountain.

And so she walked, fixing her thoughts on the embarrassment and trying to draw her strength from the warm it cursed her with. And for a time, it appeared to be going. . . Decent? The wind was howling around her earmuffs, and the cold cradled her like a second skin, yet the warmth kept her centred amid the storm.

The mountain's incline was not too steep. Logical, for that was not yet the challenge they should brave, it was the elements, the icicles that would cling to your eyelashes should you not pay mind to Tapas. And for a moment, it felt as if she was finally doing it right, until she felt a strong arm swing her to the ground without chance to prepare. "Aargh!" She yelped, before feeling her face hit the deep layer of snow beside the path. For a second, the Nabooan just lay there, before rolling over and giggling. Her dark curls were a mess, covered in a layer of snow, the same went for her fur cloak.

"By Shiraya, you are strong-- Ouch." The girl mumbled, before wiping the snow off her face, and standing up, noticing the Wookiee and the young alien beside him. What a... pair. Strange? Unique? Those words did not quite do any justice to this duo. "If you wanted to introduce yourselves, you could have just asked--" She laughed softly.

​

 

[Baalin]

It would be one of the first dedicated trainings Baalin took part in, beyond the general classes or education sessions. There was some excitement at that, though also reluctance, as the Jedi halls had become familiar, offering the young Kage a sense of comfort in that familiarity. Still, even Baalin had to tell himself that remaining solely at the Lightspire wasn't an option.

The lesson on Tapas was interesting. When Master Qel-Droma explained methods to approach the test, Baalin was reluctant to admit that some of those wouldn't work, probably not as intended. Not for him, at least. Still, instruction was only half the journey, and the Padawan had promised himself to work at whatever training the trip revealed. And so he began, paying attention to the chill and snow purposefully, letting the sensation flow over him.

For a moment, Baalin seemed to feel a shift throughout himself; he could feel a tingling warmth, it started in his chest, it began to seep outward as he opened himself up to those around, sensing them - feeling them - and taking in all the uncertainty, the determination, the willpower...

"...Visualize something simple, hot chocolate, a sunlit shore, a fire at dusk..."

The words were wise, kind, filled with instructive suggestion...

Fire.

Baalin's pupils dilated.

No.

The young Kage's mind flooded, a tidal wave of memory, as he was pulled into thoughts actively suppressed. He was on Quarzite, at his home, and he saw fire... he saw so much fire. The dwelling was ablaze, bodies scattered, smoke and burning in his nostrils, the heat--

"The heat."

--the left side of Baalin's body stung, the burnt skin and scars began to throb and feel like they were burning anew. The memory of the pain - unlike any pain he had felt - and in response, the youth began to clench and shake. His fingers into fists, his arms tucked against his sides, and his head pulled inward to tuck against his chest.

No... stop...

Baalin's neck strained; he held his breath, and he pushed the memories down.

Then a sudden roar, followed by cry, and a series of thuds in the snow snapped Baalin free of the state of recollection. His body reacted before he realized, as he jumped across the snow, and landed in a spray near the Wookiee Kuhbee and Isobel. He crouched near the Wookiee, having sensed the surprise from Isobel at being caught unawares, and froze - poised - his hand touching the cool metal of the lightsaber handle clipped at his belt...

"I..." Baalin began, as he blinked and slowly drew the hand forward, offering it to Kuhbee. "I will help you stand."

Baalin's eyes dropped, guilty, as he realized he had reacted too quickly over an accident, believing it was something else in his mental duress.

"Are you okay?" he asked Isobel... but then he quickly added. "I apologise. I will leave you now."

The youth turned and started to trek up the thick snow, as he withdrew into himself.

Focus on the lesson, fool.

Rhen Qel-Droma | Kuhbee | Isobel Serraris​

 

[Kuhbee]

​

Location:
Equipment: Translation Droid | Lightsaber | Jedi Robes |
Tags: Nien Isobel Serraris Baalin

​

The training had just started and already Kuhbee had caused a scene! Luckily nobody seemed too upset with him. Nien had already picked himself up out of the snow and dusted himself off. His little green body was so tiny compared to Kuhbee, who even in youth already stood 1.57 meters.

"Good reflexes you have, yes. Maybe next time, aim less at me?"

"Grrr." The guilty slow rawer rolled off his tongue easily. The droid at his belt chirped up, almost lazily. [Agreed. I'm sorry friend.]

Isobel was giggling and did not seem upset either, which made Kuhbee feel relieved.

"If you wanted to introduce yourselves, you could have just asked--"

"Grarr Wyaaaaaa" Kuhbee waved his big paw, sending snow flying off of it as he did so. The droid at his belt chirped again. [My name is Kuhbee, so sorry about that.]

Before he had a chance to explain further though another padawan had leapt between them, spraying them all with snow. He held his lightsaber hilt for a moment and Kuhbees eyes widened, wondering if an attack was coming. The padawan seemed to relax though and Kuhbee felt a wave of guilt. Had he upset Baalin that much that the other considered attacking him?

"I apologize. I will leave you now."

He started to walk away and Kuhbee watched for a moment, then he caught sight of a small piece of skin on the left side of the boy padawans body. It was a burn scar, much like the scars that littered Kuhbee's own body, souvenirs that showcased his time in chains.

He padded forward and roared at Baalin softly.

"Gwarrr."

He held out his arm, showing several missing patches of fur where the burn scars were visible. The droid spoke up, this time sounding solemn.

[I have them too.]

 

[Aiden Porte]

Ensy Lossa Aureus Rhen Qel-Droma​

He glanced down at Ensy, the corner of his mouth lifting in a quiet, knowing way.

"Tapas isn't about beating the cold." he said, voice low and steady, warmth carried more by tone than temperature. "At least… not at first."

"Feel your breath," he continued, resting a reassuring hand briefly on Ensy's shoulder. "Not as a tool. Not as a trick. Just… as a rhythm. You're doing that correctly already."

He crouched slightly so he was more level with Ensy's eye line, the snow creaking faintly beneath him.

"The warmth doesn't come because you try to be warm. It comes because you accept the cold isn't the enemy. You're doing exactly what you should," he said softly. "You're breathing with the cold, not fighting it. That's the first step."

"And not feeling warmer right away? That's normal. As Master Aureus stated, and Master Qel-Droma, You feel the cold, let it be noticed and no more."

He gave Ensy's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"You're doing just fine, Ensy. Don't rush. Just breathe with the force."

 

[Kito]

//: Open //:
//: Attire //:

The snow, the mountain, and all of it were something that Kito had found herself stuck in before. The Fire Shaper ran hot compared to the others, and focusing on keeping warm only made the steam coming off her bare skin. She looked around at the others who were struggling and those who seemed able to do what they were instructed.

Kito didn't particularly need to warm herself, but she understood this was a lesson that needed to be accomplished. The next task would be something she already learned from her previous master before she was abandoned. Still, the shaper needed to impress the masters around her.

Kito just wanted to belong somewhere.

Exhaling softly, she tried to ignore the others. She needed to make sure her focus was on herself, since this was an inward, personal skill. Though her mind wandered, wondering if she would ever be able to apply it to another.

Kito shook her head slightly as she exhaled and focused again. She couldn't let her mind wander to anyone else; she had to focus on herself.

Maybe it was easier for her because of her already warm body, but, focusing on the core — the fire that resided in her because of her shaping abilities — she let that heat radiate from her. It blossomed just under her skin, keeping her warmer than usual. It reminded her of a fever.

The Padawan hoped it wasn't that.

She remained quiet, on her own, with the snow melting just under her feet.