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

[Sven Halestorm]

THE VIEW

Tags: OPEN​

The wind softened as he climbed beyond the second ridge, thinning into a high, sighing whisper that threaded through the spires of ice like a song without words. The world had narrowed to the rhythm of breath and step, each motion measured, deliberate, purposeful. The others had fallen behind some time ago, their presence still faintly perceptible through the Force: flickers of effort, sparks of will moving steadily up the mountainside. But Sven had reached a point where even sound seemed to hesitate. Only the hush of snow against his boots broke the stillness.

He stopped.

The slope leveled into a small outcropping, a natural balcony jutting out over the valley. Frost clung to the edges of his cloak as he drew it tighter around his shoulders and turned to look back.

The view struck him with a quiet, humbling beauty. Below, the valley unfurled in vast layers of silver and shadow. Clouds drifted between peaks like rivers of light, and the Jedi camp was now a scatter of golden dots, small fires burning against the endless white. The faintest outlines of his companions were visible on the trail far below, tiny silhouettes moving in patient rhythm toward the mountain’s heart.

For a long time, Sven said nothing. He simply stood there, gloved hands resting on the hilt of his belt, the cold wind brushing through his beard. Then, almost unconsciously, he reached up and twisted the corner of his mustache, a small, familiar motion, thoughtful, almost wry.

How many times had he stood like this before? Different worlds, different skies, yet always the same quiet question pressing at the edge of his thoughts. What was it that the Force truly asked of them, endurance or understanding? To climb because one must, or to climb because one wished to know what waited at the summit?

The mountain did not answer. It didn’t need to.

He exhaled, the sound barely more than a whisper. “Still teaching, even in silence.”

There was something about the stillness that felt sacred. Not the ceremonial kind, no temple walls, no chanting halls, but the pure, unfiltered truth of the galaxy itself. Here, stripped of noise and comfort, the Force felt closer. It lingered in the motion of the snow, the slow dance of frost around his boots, the distant pulse of hearts laboring below. Life, even in the coldest reaches, continued with quiet grace.

His gaze drifted toward the horizon. The sun was low now, its pale light cutting through the clouds in bands of icy gold. Somewhere beyond that glow, across countless systems, the Republic still stirred with unrest. But that was for another day. Here, the only struggle worth tending to was the one within.

Sven drew a slow breath, letting the Force settle once more within his chest. The warmth returned gently, spreading from his heart outward, not as fire, but as calm.

He smiled faintly, twisting his mustache again before stepping away from the ledge.

“Best not to keep them waiting,” he murmured.

And then, with the quiet patience of a man who had made peace with the climb, Sven turned back toward the storm above and continued upward, the valley fading beneath him like a memory half-dreamed.

 

[Toby Perris]

RIMOS
EDIACH
NORTHERN CONTINENT

When the invitation came to go to this frigid place, Toby didn’t hesitate to accept the offer. Though he was a bit further along in his padawan training than most of the others that were attending, much of his training had been self-directed without ongoing commitment of a Master to guide his path. That meant he was both further ahead and lagging behind his peers.

Though this wasn’t the only reason he’d pushed himself to participate as of late, it drove him no less than the other reasons that gnawed at his conscience.

Much of what he did supported his interests, which were mental disciplines, and less so the parts that would make him useful and able to withstand the demands of being a Jedi, out in the field. He had been trained in a number of the basics during his compulsory schooling on Corellia, but that hadn’t included Tapas… which he now knew as something that padawans were taught early in the ancient Republic, when he’d looked up information about it ahead of this trip.

Snowflakes snuck under his collar, here and there, landing on the back of his neck and making him shiver a little. He stood amongst the decent gaggle of padawans (and above some of them) that had also decided to brave the cold for this useful lesson, and listened attentively to Master Qel-Droma, who was Corellian like he was. The cold sharpened his focus and siphoned his warmth as he stood fairly still and listened, but then it was time to make the attempt, and put knowledge into practice.

There was no reluctance or doubt, only the attempt: Toby was well-versed in the mechanics of drawing on the Force, and minute manipulations of it. Like how he could narrow his focus to change the trajectory of a moving object, focusing and finding the spark of warmth his body let off beneath that chill was easy.

Then it was simply a matter of figuring out how to use it, and after a moment or two, it clicked. [ Conceptually, this should be like any other targeted enhancement of the body, I think, ] he realised, feeling the pulse of warmth; it was probably like filling his legs to run faster or leap higher, in a sense. So, in a similar fashion, he tipped a little bit of power into that spark, and was proven right: he found he was able to make that warmth grow, spread, and within scant moments, melt the chill away from himself entirely.

He blinked, returning his attention to the people around him, before he sought to replicate what he’d just done. Each attempt would be a touch faster than the last, and when he felt reasonably confident he had a somewhat decent handle on Tapas and had it locked in, Toby looked around to see how others were doing. There was some kind of commotion going on with a few of them, but what caught his eye more was that one of them ( Kito ) was exuding heat to the point that snow melted around their feet.

It made him think of his eldest brother, who was halfway up the mountain, waiting for them all… that was a thing he could do. And Toby wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a girl that tall before — as tall as himself, that is — so with questions swirling in his thoughts, he walked over to the dark-haired, reddish-eyed padawan, standing apart from the rest of them, and alone.

“Hey,” he called when he got closer, raising a hand in greeting, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he got the sense most were done with their practice, anyway, “but I gotta ask: are you, uh, a pyrokinetic?”

Aiden Porte • Baalin • Casaana • Ensy • Isobel Serraris • Kuhbee
Kwei Vatani • Lossa Aureus • Nien • Rhen Qel-Droma • Sven Halestorm​

 

[Nien]

Kuhbee Isobel Serraris Baalin Rhen Qel-Droma
​

Nien was still brushing snow from his sleeves when Isobel laughed, her voice ringing over the wind like a bell. His eyes blinked twice before his mouth broke into a bright grin.

He waddled forward, his short legs half-buried, and brushed frost from his hood.

"Introduce, yes! Much better idea than crash," Nien piped up cheerfully, his voice warm and high against the cold air. "Though, very memorable way this was, hmm?"

He glanced between Isobel, brushing snow from her curls, and Kuhbee, who rumbled guiltily. Nien's ears wiggled in amusement.

"Name's Nien," he said, tapping a small hand against his chest. "And this is Kuhbee. Roommates we are! He talks through droid sometimes, but roars very politely," Nien continued, smiling up at Kuhbee.

"Now," he said with a gentle seriousness that made the other Padawans nearby grin, "no more falling. Unless the mountain asks politely."

He clasped his hands, ears flicking forward. "Friends now, yes?"

Another gust scattered silver flakes, but the trio stood together: a tall Wookiee, a Nabooan with snowy hair, and a tiny green Jedi whose smile radiated warmth.

Nien then looked to the one who had just left them, who was called Baalin.

"Hey, you come back!" Little Nien then took off after him, just as Kuhbee was going to give him a hug. It was then he heard the voice of Master Qel-Droma. Nien turned and offered a small smile to the Master. "Oh yes, just exchanging greetings we were. By way of falling into the snow."