Faction Thought Shield Training | The Jedi Order and NFU's too!

[Zaiya Ceti]

The Shiraya's Sanctuary
Outfit: x | Companion: Domxite

Open to all Jedi, THR NFU characters and allies interested in the training!

Zaiya placed the last cushion with a soft fwump, humming a happy little diddy about Zac and Dyane. The colors across her markings danced in joyful waves of pale blues, thoughtful ambers, and bright citrines. This was her first official teaching day at the Shiraya Sanctuary, and she could feel the excitement fizzing all the way up to her ears.

The Lovalla Padawan straightened, hands brushing off invisible dust, and bounced once on her heels for good measure. She was here to guide others now, to test her ability to teach while still taking her own trials. Iris's weakened health had made their training rare treasures, and Lossa's guidance had pushed her further than she thought possible. Now it was Zaiya's turn to pass something on.

For her first class, she had struggled between teaching Force Empathy or Thought Shield. After much deliberation, meditation with Domxite, and discussions with both Lossa and Iris, she chose Thought Shield. It was a vital technique -- and the best part? It could be taught even to those not sensitive to the Force. Which meant anyone could join and have fun learning something new.

Hearing footsteps nearing, Zaiya perked up instantly. With a bounce, a joyful clap, and a whole shimmer of bioluminescent color, the Lovalla spun around and waved her arm high with a beaming smile.

"OH hello! Welcome! Please have a seat! I will get started shortly. I brought some bottles of water and snacks in case anyone would like them!"

The Lovalla rocked on her heels again, then suddenly froze, her hands lifting with an animated gesture.

"Oh! Would help if I introduce myself." She beamed. "My name is Zaiya, Zaiya Ceti. I am a Padawan, and I will be happily overseeing this class on the best way to shield your mind, thoughts, and emotions from being picked up by others."

Zaiya explained the basics of Thought Shield, her fingers ticking off each point.

"One does not need to be Force sensitive to use this skill, but being sensitive does let you enhance it further. However, once you get the hang of it, practice is key."

With another cheerful clap, she grinned broadly.

"So, for now, go on and get into pairs, groups, or sit by yourself if you prefer. However you study best. Though a friend is always helpful especially if you've never met before so you can make a new friend!!"

 

[Isla Reingard]

Isla entered the area with a cautious poise. She wasn't entirely sure what to expect from another Padawan leading a class. It seemed bold, maybe even a little reckless. Still, mastering mental shielding was an important skill. If this Zaiya Ceti truly understood how to refine it, Isla wouldn't pass up the chance to learn.

She eased down onto one of the neatly arranged cushions, legs folding beneath her. The moment she settled, Zaiya's enthusiasm rippled through the room. It felt like warm light, bright and almost disorienting. Isla blinked once, studying Zaiya: her bioluminescent markings flashed, her voice lilted with excitement, and her energy overflowed. This was not what Isla expected from someone teaching mental discipline. Her brows lifted slightly.

When Zaiya paused long enough for breath, Isla raised a hand. "You're very pretty," she said simply, with her usual flat honesty. There was no embarrassment, no softening in her tone. "Your colors are… nice." She left it at that, her gaze drifting across the room as others shuffled into pairs and small groups. Isla wasn't naturally social, but she wasn't about to hide in a corner either. Isla straightened her spine, smoothing her hands on her knees.

"If anyone wants a partner," she added, her voice steady, "I'm open to it." She didn't call out to anyone. She didn't wave. She just waited, calm and composed, quietly curious to see who, if anyone, would choose her.

Zaiya Ceti | OPEN​

 

[Runar Ulfsson]

THE CORNER

Tag: OPEN

Runar slipped into the sanctuary without announcement, the muted fall of his boots barely disturbing the hush of the chamber. He paused just inside the threshold, taking in the soft cushions arranged with care, the gentle glow of bioluminescent color rolling across the Padawan’s markings, and the bubbling joy that practically radiated from her voice. It was… disarming, in its way. So much light, so much eagerness. A stark contrast to the quiet, colder spaces he was used to keeping. He offered a polite nod, nothing more, and moved to an empty cushion near the edge of the room, settling with his spine straight and his hands resting on his knees, a silent observer rather than a participant. From the corner of his eye, he watched others shuffle into groups, laughter and nervous chatter threading through the room like warm current.

As Zaiya spoke, Runar’s gaze lowered to the floor, half-lidded eyes giving the impression of meditation rather than distance. Thought Shield. He knew the technique well, had learned it not as a lesson, but as a necessity. Walls of stone built out of survival, out of years in which silence and secrecy were safer than any doctrine. Jedi doctrine had called such shields discipline. Others had called them coldness. Runar had simply called them survival. Hearing the Padawan frame the skill as something accessible, even fun, stirred a faint ripple of dry amusement in him. To her, shielding was clarity. To many here, it was a gentle boundary. For him, it had been armor forged long before he ever stepped foot in a sanctuary like this.

He lifted his head slightly, watching the Padawan’s movements, animated, earnest, utterly unburdened by cynicism. There was sincerity in her teaching, no pretense of superiority or rigid hierarchy. It reminded him of things he’d forgotten, of masters who once taught with kindness rather than command, of lessons meant to encourage rather than contain. The memory brushed him with a pang he hadn’t expected, like a cold wind through a long-unopened door. He let the feeling pass without clinging to it, though its echo lingered somewhere deep beneath the surface.

When the room shifted into pairs and clusters, cushions scooting and soft introductions being exchanged, Runar remained still. He wasn’t here to bond or barter thoughts. He had no desire to impose his presence, nor to invite questions. Solitude fit him like a familiar cloak, and he wore it without apology. Yet he didn’t wall himself off, not entirely. His breath flowed slow and steady, his presence quiet as snowfall. Instead of sealing his mind behind the usual unyielding barricade, he turned inward, testing the idea of something different. Not the fortress he was used to, but a shield shaped by awareness rather than fear, firm, but not suffocating. A boundary, not a prison.

He listened, not just to voices, but to the rhythm of the room. Laughter. Shifting fabric. The Padawan’s gentle encouragement. There was no threat here. No accusation. No expectation that he prove himself to anyone. For the first time in a long while, Runar allowed himself to simply be present, without justification. He drew in a slow inhale, feeling the subtle pressure of emotions at the edge of his perception, curiosity, nerves, excitement, then let them pass through like mist instead of colliding against iron.

Perhaps there was more strength in choosing openness than in clinging to walls.

He didn’t speak the thought. He didn’t need to. He simply breathed, eyes closing once more, and continued to sit alone, quiet, steady, and, for the first time in years, not entirely shut away.

 

[Phillip Slate]

Tags: Zaiya Ceti Isla Reingard Runar Ulfsson

It had been a while since Phillip had found himself partaking in a class with other Padawans. There was a part of him that felt as if he was undeserving to be called one, after spending so long without a master. It was a thought that he didn't want to focus on...and didn't want others finding out. The lad shook his head, dismissing the thought as he entered the room, letting his gaze take in the others around.

There was the Padawan teaching the class. She was...colourful. In fact she seemed more colourful than the paintings Phillip did in his spare time. It was a reminder for Phillip that there were a lot more sights in the Galaxy that he needed to see for inspiration. For muse when it came to making his artwork. But artwork came secondary to his Jedi training now. His gaze then flickered over towards the older man here, raising an eyebrow at the sight of him. Compared to the colour that Zaiya was radiating, he seemed colder. Not necessarily in a negative way...but more in a steadying way.

Then his gaze flickered over towards Isla, an uncontrollable smile coming to Phillip's face at the sight of his best friend. They hadn't perhaps properly talked in a while...There was a part of him that debated whether or not it would be best to pair up with her or to do work by himself. There was perhaps part of Phillip that was nervous at the idea of spending time with Isla though he couldn't quite figure out why. With that being said, he made his way over towards her, throwing himself down onto the ground next to her.

"Looks like you're stuck with me. Though if anyone else wants to come on over, they can. Trust me, Isla doesn't bite."

 

[Veyla Krinn]

The Mandalorians had been invited.

An odd thing—rare, cautious, and not without its complications—but an invitation nonetheless. And after a long conversation among her pack and the Wolves, Veyla decided she would take it. Thought Shield was a skill she needed, a skill the Wolves valued, and a skill that might—might—bridge the distance between her and people she had never been allowed to stand beside.

But the moment she stepped through the doors of the Shiraya Sanctuary, she felt… exposed.

Not unwelcome. Not judged.
Just seen in a way she hadn't prepared for.

Her boots made almost no sound on the smooth stone as she entered, dark armor gleaming with faint cobalt and crimson. Unlike the others from her group, she lifted her helmet off before crossing the threshold—green eyes sharper than the vibroblade at her hip, red hair falling in a loose wave over one shoulder. If she was going to learn anything about mental shielding, she told herself, she needed to face it openly.

Even if her stomach tightened a little at the thought.

Her gaze drifted over the room first.
Not scanning for threats—old habits just looked like that.

The young Padawan at the center radiated so much joy that Veyla almost had to squint. The Lovalla's bioluminescent markings shifted like a festival of light, enthusiasm bubbling out of her so fast that Veyla wondered if it was contagious. Zaiya Ceti was… warm. Bright. Disarming in a way that made Veyla's shoulders tense before she forced them to relax.

Then there was Isla, who told the teacher she was pretty with the bluntness of a vibroknife laid flat on a table. Veyla's lips twitched. She liked that one instantly.

The older man sitting alone in the corner—Runar—felt like a cold current in a warm room. Not threatening, but withdrawn, wary. A kind of silence she recognized deep down in her bones.

And the boy—Phillip—sliding in next to Isla with all the graceless charm of a pup trying to hide nerves behind a grin. He made the room feel safer for the others, and Veyla quietly appreciated that.

She took a breath, aware that several pairs of eyes flicked toward her and the small cluster of Mandalorians entering behind her. Her armor, her bearing, her presence—all of it made her stand out even before she spoke.

Still, she stepped forward.

Not to the front.
Not to hide in the back.

Just somewhere she could sit, learn, and not get in anyone's way.

A cushion waited.
She lowered herself onto it with deliberate care, helmet resting at her side, posture straight but not rigid. Her gaze followed Zaiya's gestures as she explained the technique, absorbing every word with a soldier's discipline.

When the room began to shift into groups and pairs, Veyla drew a slow breath through her nose, steadying the instinct to isolate herself out of habit.

Her voice, when it came, carried the low, warm steadiness of a Mandalorian who had lived too long between belonging and exile.

"If anyone needs a partner," she said, tone respectful but strong, "I am available. I'm… new to this style of training."

A beat of honesty slipped in before she could stop it.

"And I would be grateful for the help."

Her green eyes met Zaiya's next—open, curious, and carrying the faintest flicker of nerves she tried not to show.

She had come to learn.
Maybe she would even learn how to belong.

Phillip Slate Runar Ulfsson Isla Reingard Zaiya Ceti

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

The Shiraya's Sanctuary
Tags: Veyla Krinn | Zaiya Ceti | Open

When the invitation came, Adelle had siezed on the opportunity. Among her pack of Wolves, she was the only one with mastery of the Force. The other three had skills born of instinct and either hidden or kept unrefined due to Mandalorian history. But Mandalorians recognized that instinct could only carry them so far where skill was needed. And the Mand'alor agreed.

The Jedi temple Shiraya's Sanctuary rose up in graceful traditional Naboo architecture, set among cliff faces and waterfalls. Nature blended with civilization almost seamlessly and there was an easy tranquility in the air, even as the Mandalorians were escorted by security to its halls. Adelle had removed her buy'ce upon landing and tucked it in the crook of her arm, having chosen to wear the armor iconic to her new people out of solidarity instead of her far more comfortable casual wear.

A brightly colored Padawan welcomed all students electing to take this class in, apparently the appointed teacher. It was a training technique Adelle was familiar with: reinforce the lessons learned by having them teach someone else. Thought Shield was incredibly useful, to the point of it being considered a basic technique taught to Padawans upon entry in her old Order. In fact, it was part of the reason Adelle had wanted her Pack to attend: the skill was so foundational, Adelle couldn't remember how to teach it. One of the many skills that had been relegated to muscle memory and habit after Krayt decided to wipe her memories. She only knew the skill was there when she needed it, so subconscious it had taken her a moment to figure out that's what it was called.

This was as much a refresher for her as it was a needed lesson for her Pack.

Veyla stepped into the middle of the classroom, taking a seat on a cushion and announcing her availability and participation. Adelle watched from the edges--it was better to be paired with someone of equal skill level--but prepared to aid her Pack-sister if no one approached the Mandalorian.

It would just get interesting if Padawan Ceti required those learning to penetrate a Thought Shield. Adelle kept her mind well shielded at all times for very, very good reasons.

 

[Fallon Draellix-Kobitana]

Location: Shirayan training room
Objective: Practice mental resistance
Loadout: here
Tags: Zaiya Ceti Adelle Bastiel

This wasnt a class that Fallon really needed, and she assumed that was the same for many here but she understood it was more of a learning experience for Zaiya Ceti than anyone else. Teaching was tricky, it was part of her own training she didn't enjoy and also the reason she would be unlikely to ever volunteer herself to take on a padawan. She moved around the room to find a partner, she was suprised to see mandalorians at the temple, keep your friends close and your enemies closer? She could deal with mandalorians at least, she just hoped the invitation had not been extended to the Sith.

"Need a partner, Mando?" she asked Adelle Bastiel before taking a position opposite. "I can't imagine they let you lot out with out some force resistance training, so shall we skip the basics and try and knock each other down." she raised an eyebrow, it wasna challenge, but one laced with the good faith that this multicultural training session expected. Fallon carried herself like she knew what she was doing and hopefully the armoured Adelle would relish a strong opponent.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Naboo, mid rim

For thousands of years, the people of Naboo had been graced with beautiful lands, filled with sites of wonder to be seen wherever one did deem to trail their wandering gaze. Fields of vibrant grass stretched across the horizon, painted in shades of gold that gleamed like honey. The soft embrace of a gentle breeze, its passage whistled through the swaying strands of crops that playfully tickled at passing travellers' calves. Graceful fauna frolicked across open plains and deep into thoughtful forests, where greater mysteries eluded the hunter's gaze.

Shiraya's Sanctuary may have been located somewhere within the Gallo Mountains, but that made it no less elusive. Guided by wandering steps that had possessed little rhyme or reason, Itzhal remembered his arrival with far more confusion than was perhaps typically expected from new arrivals, greeted by the marvellous sight of a hidden bastion, pristine white walls that filled his vision, the shapes carved in sharp relief, a measure of beauty to the otherwise stark sight.

Unconsciously, he'd found his eyes tracing across the structure, unable to avoid the piece of himself that searched for a weakness to breach. It had felt like something of a bad omen.

Still, he found himself here. Inches from the doorway, his feet braced for a step that failed to arrive. He stood as still as the impression of warriors carved into the exterior of the sanctuary, his expression chipped away until the blank palette became a statement of its own.

He did not wear the buy'ce that would have brought him comfort and serenity, a shield between himself and the world outside. The frown lines of his face, years of misery and hardship, were worn into place, framed by a shadow of black hair dusted with silver. A stark contrast to the Mandalorian that often faced the world, a faceless sentinel, armed in the beskar plates of his people. Instead, today, he stood dressed in interlapped folds of black and grey robes, not a sliver of metal on his body, nor the comforting weight of his westar pistols.

Unarmed in a way he had not allowed himself in years, Itzhal stood, paused at the threshold, unable to deny the envy that passed him, as so many others stepped through without a moment of doubt.

Tags: OPEN​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Shiraya's Sanctuary
Tags: Fallon Draellix-Kobitana | Open

The intensity the pink-haired Jedi--although something about calling the young woman that seemed inaccurate--approached Adelle with felt about as strong as a turbolaser. And her Force presence burned with Light. It had been a while since Adelle had been around Jedi and the Jedi-adjacent, the former Jedi among the Mandalorians notwithstanding. Adelle kept her composure, emotions controlled, old habits falling back into place.

Mando. Not even an introduction, just . . . 'Mando.' And the assumption that they wouldn't have been brought here without Force resistance training.

Yeah, that was fair. Mandalorian history probably wasn't taught outside of the Empire's space. It certainly hadn't been taught in her old Order.

"Actually, I'm just here to supervise," she said quietly. "The use of the Force isn't well taught within Mandalorian society so my brothers and sisters usually rely on instinct honed through experience. But training instinct into skill that's second-nature? That's preferable."

She inclined her head towards the pink-haired Light sider opposite her, the greeting she had often used with her fellow Masters in her old Order. "Adelle Bastiel, Clan Skirata. If you're willing, I believe my vod in the middle there could use someone skilled enough to challenge her without inflicting injury."

Her head nodded towards Veyla Krinn , seated among the others on the floor. Adelle herself didn't want people she didn't know probing her Thought Shield for weaknesses. She wasn't sure how much of her memnii would be accessible if someone did circumvent her mental walls and it would be disastrous for all involved if anyone engaged those in any capacity, accidental or not. Phantom, the spukami that served as her service animal, had been left behind in the ship, as Adelle hadn't wanted to cause a disruption with her presence.

 

[Veyla Krinn]

The Sanctuary buzzed with a soft, layered energy—students shifting to cushions, soft laughter threading between the pillars, the soothing wash of Naboo's calm seeping in through the open windows. It was a kind of peace Veyla rarely trusted, but she didn't reject it either; she let it sit on her shoulders like a cloak she wasn't sure how to fasten yet. Mandalorians moved differently here—lighter, almost hesitant—while the Jedi learned to smile through the presence of warriors in beskar. It was an odd balance, but not an uncomfortable one.

From where she sat, Veyla caught Adelle's subtle nod across the room. It was small but meaningful—the kind of gesture shared between people who had fought through the same fire and come out recognizing each other in the quiet. Veyla returned it with equal ease, a brief dip of her chin that said I'm fine, vod, without needing a single word.

As the room settled into pairs, Veyla's gaze drifted, not searching, just observing. She saw young Padawans easing into conversation, others hesitating before choosing their partners, and a few—always a few—who tried to shield themselves with posture or silence. It was one of those figures that drew her full attention.

Itzhal stood near the threshold as though the doorway itself were a barrier. No armor. No weapons. Just robes and a rigid stillness that clung to him like a second skin. His posture was familiar—in the way old wounds were familiar. The stance of someone who had lived too long behind walls of metal and expectation, and who now found himself stripped bare in a place he didn't trust to hold his weight.

She knew that feeling. Far too well.

Veyla rose from her cushion with a quiet breath, her steps unhurried but intentional. She didn't loom, didn't crowd him, didn't bring Mandalorian intensity into a space already too tight for him. Instead, she approached on a small diagonal, stopping just off his shoulder, giving him both space and presence. Close enough to be felt, not near enough to be threatening.

For a moment, she stood with him, both of them facing the room—students forming partners, the Padawan's joyful voice continuing to fill the space. It gave him a chance to notice her without feeling cornered.

Then she spoke, her tone low and steady, her words carrying the weight of intent rather than command.

"Vod," she murmured, her voice soft enough not to jar him out of his thoughts,
"you look like you're deciding whether stepping inside is a battle or a mistake."

A small pause—not to give him time to respond, but to give her words room to land.

"No one here is armed—not in the way we're used to."
Her gaze flicked briefly to his empty hands, then back to the room.
"They're just people learning something new. Same as us."

Another breath, slower this time, letting the truth of it settle between them.
Crimson warmth crept subtly into her tone—not pity, not sympathy, just understanding.

"You don't have to cross that threshold alone."

She shifted her stance slightly, offering not a command but an open invitation.

"Come sit with me. We can learn this together."

No push.
No pressure.
Just steadiness—solid as beskar, warm as shared fire.

And for a Mandalorian who stood motionless at a door he wasn't sure he could enter alone, it was the closest thing to a lifeline she could offer without taking his choice from him.

Itzhal Volkihar Adelle Bastiel

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

The Shiraya's Sanctuary
Outfit: x | Companion: Domxite

Open to all Jedi, THR NFU characters, and allies interested in the training!
Fallon Draellix-Kobitana Adelle Bastiel Veyla Krinn Phillip Slate Runar Ulfsson Isla Reingard Itzhal Volkihar


You are very pretty. Your colors are nice.

That compliment from Isla Reingard was enough to make Zaiya light up like the proverbial Life Day Tree. Over her skin, a medley of joyful light blues, mischievous cyans, and happy teals, all edged with a bioluminescent glow that made her skin radiate with a pearly luminescence.

"Oh! Thank you! " Zaiya replied, giving a little bounce that made the dozen or so bracelets and cuffs on each of her arms give a musical jingle.

"You are super pretty too! I love your eyes.... and the Force dances so pretttily around you. It's a lovely, beautiful ombre of violets, lavenders, and indigos... you have some interesting smoky hues in there too... " Zaiya beamed out, utterly genuine in her observation, as Zaiya was able to see the Force in a medley of colors around individuals and how the light and dark danced around them. It was a good thing the Lovalla was practicing her own mental shield, or else everyone would have felt the empath's projected emotions.

But her attention immediately drifted over when she saw a familiar face. OH!! It was Runar Ulfsson !

Zaiya quietly said hello and waved an overly excited, colorful hand. As more people joined, Zaiya became visibly more excited. It was the only way to describe how the Lovalla young woman's skin became more vibrant, shifting in color and flashing with golden bioluminescence.

"Hello and welcome!" A few came in wearing full armor, which sparked a measure of curiosity in Zaiya's opal blue eyes. Oh, were they Mandalorians?!

The desire to sit down and talk to them rose up within her but she had to remind herself that this was a class for everyone.

It was time to get started.

"Alright... let's begin!" She added with a joyful little clap to gather everyone's attention.

"Thought shield in and of itself is actually very simple in structure," Zaiya explained, walking around in a circle in a shimmer of color and wide, happy, go-lucky smiles.

"The entire shield relies on two things." She held up her hand and lifted two fingers, "a strong mental will and the ability to maintain concentration for long periods of time!"

She began to do a little joyful bouncing pace, her colorful hair drifting around her shoulders as she explained.

"When you focus your mind...say like singing the verses of your favorite song in your head, or reciting a mantra over and over, you are creating a barrier around your thoughts and emotions. And while this isn't a barrier you can feel or see, it is still a barrier that is very real to your mind."

She paused in front of Fallon, Adelle, Veyla, and Itzhal, giving a wide, happy, welcoming grin before continuing.

"At first, you will need to consciously construct this shield -- in my case, singing my favorite song in my head, and then continuously imagining it, reinforcing it, holding it steady in my mind over and over. It takes effort, and you might feel your focus wobble or fall away. But with enough practice, your mind will start to form the shield automatically."

A pause, then a lovely little half twirl that made her flowy robes flutter around her legs.

"SO! Why don't you start out thinking of what you can use to build that mental shield in your mind? Is it a catchy song? Is it a particular place you are imagining? White noise? Bawdy tune? The mewling mating squawks of Kowakian-Monkey Lizards in heat?! Whatever it may be! " Zaiya gleamed with the genuine innocence of a young woman who truly just wanted to provide examples of what may work.

 

[Runar Ulfsson]

HIDING THE STORM

Tag: Zaiya Ceti

Runar felt Zaiya’s attention before he saw it, an eager, bright wave of color in the Force, impossible to miss for anyone who wasn’t made of stone. When the Lovalla Padawan spotted him and lifted her hand in that enthusiastic, rainbow-flashing greeting, he let the corner of his mouth lift just enough to qualify as a smile and gave her a small, restrained wave in return. Nothing showy. Nothing that might invite more eyes or more conversation. Just acknowledgment, quiet, but sincere.

Then he settled back into stillness as she began her lesson.

Her words washed over the room like warm sunlight. Simple structure. Will and concentration. A song, a mantra, a memory, anything that held shape and rhythm inside the mind. Runar listened, not because he doubted the basics, but because hearing them spoken so gently stirred something he couldn’t quite name. It was… strange, how earnestly she taught. How much joy she found in it. How unhesitatingly she assumed everyone here could build something safe within themselves.

He closed his eyes.

His mind did not turn to songs. He had few left worth recalling. It did not turn to mantras either; those had long ago become hollow to him, brittle bones of a faith he no longer held in the same shape.

Instead, when he searched inward for the thing that guarded him, he found memory.

A boy standing alone in a snow-choked pass, the wind screaming like a living creature. A flicker of danger carried on that wind, too distant to see but close enough to feel. And an old teacher’s voice behind him: “You cannot outrun every shadow. Some must be held at the threshold.”
Runar had not understood then. He understood now.

He exhaled slowly, letting the world around him fall to a hush.

His shield rose not as an invisible silence or a gentle recitation, no. His mind shaped itself into what it had always been in moments of threat: fire.

Not wild flame. Not chaos. A wall of controlled, living heat, brilliant, searing, and absolute.

A curtain of roaring amber and gold that stretched around his thoughts like a fortress forged from a burning horizon. It hissed and curled, not consuming, but guarding. Fire that illuminated what he allowed to remain visible and incinerated any attempt to pierce deeper. Not hatred. Not fear. Strength. Choice. Will.

It had been his companion in the darkest years. The one thing that had kept other presences—predatory, invasive, violent—from clawing their way through him.

He let it rise now with deliberate control, feeling its warmth pulse through the chambers of his mind. The shield flared brighter at first, instinctive and defensive… then softened, its edges rounding, its fury quieting. Not the impenetrable inferno of his past. Something steadier now. Something shaped, not reactionary.

A breath. Another. The fire steadied into a wall, still vivid, still powerful, still Runar, but no longer born from desperation. Born instead from intention.

Zaiya’s voice continued in the background, light and sparkling, bouncing between examples as earnestly as she breathed. Runar didn’t need to look at her to feel her warmth radiating across the room like a hearth.

Whatever it may be, she had said. Whatever works.

For him, it had always been this.

A wall of fire, guarding the storm inside.

He opened his eyes again, calm and composed, still seated alone on his cushion. He didn’t join a group. He didn’t speak. He simply breathed, held the shield where it needed to be, and allowed the lesson, unexpectedly, to settle somewhere deeper than he had intended.

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Zaiya Ceti @Open
​

He really should've run.

Not far, just enough to make Cassian sigh dramatically and mutter something about "the boy testing my patience," which was usually punishment enough. But no. His feet had carried him willingly up the long stone steps of the Sanctuary, each one echoing like a countdown to doom. And now Cassian walked two deliberate paces behind him, the quiet, inescapable shadow of familial obligation.

Elian cleared his throat as the doors opened.

A faint hush swept over him, cool, clean air touched with incense and mountain wind. The Sanctuary was all soft lamplight and polished stone, the kind of place that made you want to whisper even if no one asked you to. Jedi moved quietly across the hall, their robes brushing the floor like pages turning in a book.

He swallowed. Cassian placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, firm and not at all subtle. Leading him towards the training area.

Elian stepped forward.

"Uh, hi," he said into the calm, collected silence of people who sometimes levitated rocks for fun. His voice came out a little too bright, a little too fast. "So… sorry if I'm interrupting anything Jedi and important. I, uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the floor as if it might helpfully swallow him.

"I'm not a Force user."

He hoped that sounded dignified. It probably didn't.

"But I was told this would be good for me." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward where Cassian stood, arms crossed, wearing the exact face he used before difficult briefings. "Very strongly told."

A beat passed.

"And I was also told," Elian added dryly, lifting his hands in surrender, "That if I wasn't on my best behavior, my brother and sister would disown me. Which,, honestly, feels extreme, but here we are."

Cassian's sigh behind him was the long-suffering kind, but there was warmth in it too.

Elian took a breath, tried to straighten his spine like Sibylla always nagged him to, and looked toward the Jedi awaiting him.

"Anyway," he said. "Hi. I'm Elian Abrantes. Please be gentle."

 

[Fallon Draellix-Kobitana]

Location: Shirayan training room
Objective: Practice mental resistance
Loadout: here
Tags: Zaiya Ceti Adelle Bastiel

Fallon nodded her own head, "Well then, Su cuy'gar Adelle of clan Skitara. I am Fallon of Draellix-Kobitana." she grinned, mimicking the greeting. She looked over at Adelle's charge, supervising a younger instructee, perhaps Fallon would wander over to her and see what her metal was. She excused herself and went to seat next to Veyla Krinn only managing a polite smile as greeting before Zaiya Ceti began.

Her methods made sense, when she was a child she was taught to use prayer for the same purpose, and as far as she waa aware the only differenc between a song and a prayer was the intended audience.

"Ashla is my Anchor.
Ashla is my Shield.
The Light reveals the Truth.
To the Dark, I shall not yield."

She began to utter a short repetitive prayer. The meditative energy of her ashlan prayers quickly came to her and she felt her skin warm with Her golden light.

"Ashla is my Anchor.
Ashla is my Shield.
The Light reveals the Truth.
To the Dark, I shall not yield."

She had nothing to hide but her thoughts and her fears, she could calmly stand behind the wall and watch her enemies break upon them. Nobody had probed her yet today but they would not find her lacking.

"Ashla is my Anchor.
Ashla is my Shield.
The Light reveals the Truth.
To the Dark, I shall not yield."

She looked towards the others, specifically to the mandalorian to note what they were doing.

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla sat among the students, her posture steady, her armor silent, her presence grounded in a way that contrasted sharply with the shifting colors of the Lovalla Padawan leading the class. Zaiya's voice floated across the room with warmth and bubbling enthusiasm, weaving images of songs, mantras, and even the shrill mating cries of Kowakian Monkey-Lizards. The soft laughter of the younger students followed, their shields beginning to form—some with awkward concentration, others already finding their rhythm. Veyla listened, but she did not reach for songs or gentle meditations. Those were not her way. They never had been.

She closed her eyes slowly, letting the noise of the sanctuary blur into softer shapes. The murmur of Padawans, the shuffle of robes, the gentle cadence of Naboo wind crossing the stone floors—everything faded until only her breath remained. She inhaled, steady and controlled, and the memory rose without her needing to summon it: heat, metal, sparks dancing up from an anvil like tiny stars. The sound of a hammer striking iron—the heartbeat of her people. It came to her as naturally as breathing in the recycled air of a ship or checking the weight of a blaster before a mission.

In her mind, she stood in a forge. Not any real forge she had known, but the ideal of one—the distilled essence of Mandalorian craft and will. The air was hot, shimmering with heat. The smell of iron and carbon clung to her senses. Before her lay raw metal glowing orange at the center of an anvil, waiting to be shaped. The first strike came easily, almost instinctively. A clean, ringing sound that reverberated to the core of her mind. Then another. And another. Each hammerfall shaped not a blade, but a wall—an unbroken rhythm of will and discipline.

Clang.
Clang.
Clang.

The noise of the real world faded until it was distant, irrelevant, lost beneath the forge's heartbeat. This was the shield she had always used—even before she knew it had a name. As a child in Concord Dawn's training yards, she had learned to quiet fear by imagining the steady rhythm of metal being shaped. As a young exile working contracts across the Rim, the constant and steady, unseen hammer kept panic at bay. And now, here among Jedi and strangers, it rose again—strong, familiar, and unmistakably hers.

Every strike of the imagined hammer reinforced the barrier forming in her mind: a ring of molten metal cooling into solid beskar-gray walls, shaped with intent, not panic. Not built from secrecy, but from choice. She did not need to hide—she only needed to protect the steel of who she was.

Her lips parted just slightly, whispering the only words she needed. Not a prayer. Not a creed. A simple, unspoken truth she had lived by since she was old enough to hold a vibroblade.

"Strike. Shape. Temper. Endure."

Each word landed like the fall of the hammer.

Strike—her will igniting.
Shape—the shield forming evenly.
Temper—anger cooled, strength refined.
Endure—because she always had.

The mental wall solidified—hot metal cooling into a flawless surface, unscarred by intrusion. It wasn't aggressive, wasn't a fortress meant to isolate, wasn't a fire meant to warn people away. It was work. Craft. Purpose. A forge that never faltered, never flinched, never yielded to outside pressure.

Veyla exhaled through her nose, calm returning to her shoulders. When she opened her eyes again, the sanctuary came back into focus—the glow of Zaiya's bioluminescent joy, Runar's quiet fire, Fallon's steady prayer, the murmured encouragement between students.

Veyla sat in silence, her shield holding firm not because she feared intrusion, but because forging it was as natural to her as breathing.

A Mandalorian's mind, like their armor, was built with intent—and hers had always been shaped at the forge.

Fallon Draellix-Kobitana Elian Abrantes Runar Ulfsson Zaiya Ceti Adelle Bastiel Itzhal Volkihar Phillip Slate

 

[Aileni Ifor Xeraic]

Attire: Large brown hoodie, grey shirt
Equipment: Dathomiri Energy Bow, practice saber
Tag: Zaiya Ceti | Isla Reingard | Runar Ulfsson | Phillip Slate | Veyla Krinn | Adelle Bastiel | Fallon Draellix-Kobitana | Itzhal Volkihar | Elian Abrantes

Aileni. The beast is growing. You need to be more mindful of your emotions. Do not succumb to its roar.

"How do I fight it? All I feel is anger, frustrations at myself, at the galaxy, at everything. This isn't the way things should be going!" Aileni growled feeling the heat in his body rising once more.

Accept that not everything will be simple in life. Just because you desire more does not mean you deserve it or are worthy of it.

"And why do you get to lecture me? You died! You left our family and failed! I need to be more. I need to be stronger because people like you left the galaxy and there is no one ready to face the darkness!" Aileni shouted, angered by the fact that the ghost of his grandfather was lecturing him. Not accepting that things were different now. That things were not as simple as the old man was trying to make out.

The burning only got more intense, then Aileni felt it. Red eyes staring at him. Hatred, bloodthirst, primal dark urges, they were emanating from where the eyes burned from in the shadows. Growls and heated panting coming the same direction as well. It was something truly monstrous and Aileni felt a deep fear as he couldn't turn to look in its direction. It was too much, too dangerous. The presence of the beast felt taunt like it was primed to pounce and attack Aileni. The young teenager looked to his grandfather once again.

"Why me?" Aileni cried out, fear gripping his voice tightly, warping the voice to crackle and choke.

Because sometimes the Force places the biggest burdens on those who will become someone extraordinary and you will be that, Aileni. There just needs to be patience and acceptance that not everything will be given to you.

"F...fine."

Before Aileni could say anything else, his body woke to a sharp awakening in the dorm room he was living in while living at the Jedi Temple. His body was coated in sweat, the dream had felt intense. Terrifying and his heart was racing. The dream. Had he been running? No. Chased? It was hard to remember any of it now. All he did know was there was something in the dream that felt deeply real. Deeply terrifying and the sensation of a heavy burden laid on his shoulders. Looking over to the time, Aileni groaned, his body was exhausted as if he had no real sleep and the time was cutting it close for the class that he was meant to be attending today.

However, he couldn't attend a sweaty mess, that was well out of the question. Instead, Aileni had an intense shower to clean the sweat from him. Grabbing his clothing, Aileni dressed and looked down at the clothing. Had he grown some more over night? They were beginning to poorly fit him when they used to be loose and oversized on his figure, now it seemed like Aileni was wearing a size or two too small for his height.

"Chit... Hopefully I am not going to keep growing much more..." Aileni hummed to himself, the idea of getting clothes weekly to keep up with his growth. It was going to be wild.

Looking at the time as he finished dressing, Aileni cursed once again. Grabbing his stuff. He was running late. Super late and that was no good. This was going to be a class that Aileni knew would be crucial for the Jedi Shadow path that he wished to take but on top of that, it was a class being given by another Padawan which Aileni thought would could be super interesting. He hadn't really studied with other Padawans much and meeting one that was capable enough to teach classes was super interesting.

Entering the classroom, Aileni was panting hard, his eyes were darkened by tiredness and his hair was in a mess that tied into a rough bun. Aileni moved straight to the back of the class, not wishing to interrupt or draw further attention to himself. Instead, he listened to the instructions that were given about how to begin using Thought Shield. Focusing in on a song. Something that wasn't difficult since he had learned how to play and sing music from his mother. In his mind, he began picturing the guitar and the movements necessary to play his favourite song. Strumming the chords.

Awkwardly, he had his eyes closed and doing some hand motions to help his imagination focus on the idea of playing the chords and hear the music in his mind.

 

[Isla Reingard]

Isla's smile brightened when Zaiya beamed at her, then faltered into a small, puzzled crease. The Lovalla happily listed the exact colors of Isla's aura like she was describing a painting: "Violets, lavenders, smoky hues." Isla blinked, unsure whether to feel flattered or a little concerned.

"…Thank you?" she managed, polite but visibly uncertain, before Zaiya Ceti spun off, moving quickly to something else.

Phillip Slate 's approach softened her expression. She lifted her chin, studying him with warm familiarity.

"Hello, Phillip," she said, hitting the P at the end with deliberate emphasis. It was a teasing habit she'd always had with him.

She gestured for him to sit across from her, folding her legs and settling her hands neatly in her lap. "Sit. It'll be easier to focus if we're facing each other. Unless," she added with a faux-serious squint, "you don't want me poking around that mind of yours. Could be dangerous. I might find all sorts of blackmail."

A small, quiet laugh broke through, a rare but genuine sound.

She turned her attention back to Zaiya's instruction, listening with a studious calm as the Lovalla explained the basics. "A mental anchor, a repeated thought, and definitely no monkey-lizard noises," Zaiya explained. Isla nodded slowly, already smoothing her breathing in preparation.

"What are you going to use for your mental shield?" she asked Phillip.

Then, Elian Abrantes

Of course. She hated that guy.

His voice cut across the training hall like a blade forged purely for irritation. Isla's shoulders drew tight as every pair of eyes turned toward him, his dramatic self-introduction halting the lesson mid-flow. She didn't even try to hide her eye-roll.

Force help him; he always entered a room like it was a stage.

Determined not to give him her attention, she turned back to Phillip with a patient exhale.

"Sorry," she murmured, her expression flicking between apology and annoyance. "You were saying?"

 

[Phillip Slate]

Tags: Direct Zaiya Ceti Isla Reingard
Indirect: Elian Abrantes

Phillip settled himself down as he sat across from Isla. Though there was a small bundle of nerves in the back of his mind at the idea of facing Isla face to face. He pushed that bundle of nerves deep down inside of himself, justifying the fact that this was no different to usual. Except, well...It was. Because he wanted to ask Isla something. Something important. But...maybe not here. He shook his head, returning to the squint to Isla, alongside folding his arms in front of himself.

"I don't have any secrets for you to find out. I don't keep any from you. I know it's pointless, you'd figure them out someway or another."

It was true. Phillip had learned there was little point in keeping a secret from Isla. Not that he didn't try sometimes still. It was only ever small things though. Stealing snacks when she wasn't looking...or adding extra snacks because he felt too guilty for stealing them. It took Phillip a moment however to realise that he should be listening to Zaiya, as he turned his head in the other Padawan's directions, listening to her instructions. A mental anchor...that could be repeated over and over again. Hm...It might not entirely be words that would fill his mind...but Phillip could go over painting. Imagining his mind as a blank canvas, with him painting nonsense.

"Hm...I could imagine myself painting? Or sculpting? The same thing over and over again. For perfe-...Isla?"

He had noticed that her attention didn't seem to be on him. Phillip turned his head over towards the direction of where Isla was looking, to see...a guy. A non-force user. Something about disowning. Phillip didn't quite understand much of it, but it seemed that Isla didn't like him. Phillip wasn't sure why. The other lad just seemed to have pressure on his shoulders.

"Oh. You're listening now? I was saying that I'd just keep doing wampa screams in my head. In all seriousness...you okay 'La?"

The nickname had came out of nowhere. It didn't even seem like a nickname, more like a vocal exercise...Though, at the same time it also made sense to come from Phillip. Music and the Arts were a part of his life. Even if he wasn't a singer, it was a nickname that definitely felt like something that Phillip would say. Either way, he reached his hand out to give Isla's shoulder a small pat before leaning back.

"I was going to imagine painting. Repeating the same thought over and over again. Same image. As if I'm trying to get it perfect. Maybe I'd try painting the moon or something."

Moons were still an important thing for Phillip. Calling back to that time the pair had watched the moon under the night sky...Totally when they shouldn't have. But it was still a fond memory of his. One that helped him keep focused and calm, even as he had a fair few frustrations bubbling beneath his surface.

 

[Kas Larsen]

Kas Larsen

​

"I'm a Jedi Sentinel, using everything in my arsenal to keep the peace."

TAGS: Zaiya Ceti | @ OPEN
EQUIPMENT: Kas' Gear | Echo Stone
CURRENT LOCATION: Naboo | Shiraya's Sanctuary | Training Gardens
OBJECTIVE: Attend the Class | Develop Force Abilities | Socialise with Jedi

Running late to attend the session being organised by a fellow Padawan Learner and got informed that the technique being shared in their teaching was known as Thought Shield. A natural, passive ability that Kas and his family possess besides his mother, Cara, whom had to develop and learn the ability when becoming a Jedi Sentinel it wouldn't do Kas any harm to enhance and strengthen his natural talents within Mental Shielding. When he last saw and spoke with Caden and Kharis they encouraged Kas to make a few friends, engage and interact with others during his studies and training whenever there are classes hosted by fellow Jedi.

"Damn it. Got side-tracked with Jedi Ace training courses in the Star Corp academy station. I hope I'm not too late."

Coming to a sudden halt as Kas managed to make it from the Hangar Bay of the Shiraya Sanctuary to the location of where the session was being held. Slid slightly on his boots along the ground as Kas noticed Isla Reingard with a few other Padawan Learners attending and to his surprise there were Mandalorians also here. Now he really did feel stupid coming in to the class late as it seemed everyone had managed to find themselves into pairs, groups. All he could do was apologise for coming in late and probably for disturbing the lesson that Zaiya decided to put together to help other Jedi up and coming.

"S-sorry for being late. I got held up in another training session. I'm Kas Larsen, Padawan under Jedi Knight Aiden Porte."

Stood ready to participate in this class Kas caught his breath after having sprinted through the grounds of the Enclave, Sanctuary passing by other Jedi and Republic official representatives that were mingling throughout. It has been a big struggle for him to find friends and form friendships, always been focused on catching up in studying and training to not fall further behind since Kas and his siblings were inducted into the Jedi Order in their mid to late teens. A hand began to rub the back of his neck as Kas looked around unsure what to do next as he did just barge a bit recklessly without thinking first before acting.

"Hope I can still attend and participate in the lesson."

 

[Isla Reingard]

Isla let out an unguarded laugh when Phillip Slate insisted she'd uncover any secret he tried to hide. It was soft but warm. "You're right," she said lightly. But when he commented on her not listening, Isla snapped her gaze back to him, her eyes narrowing.

"I was listening to you," she said, affronted in that dry, Isla-specific way. "I always listen to you. And who the hell is 'La'? Absolutely not. You are not calling me that."

Then he patted her shoulder. Isla froze. She blinked once, then twice. Her entire expression warped into something perplexed, almost offended by the sudden display of casual physical comfort. "…Stop being weird," she muttered, nudging his hand off with one finger.

Before Phillip could retaliate, another presence jogged in. It was Kas Larsen , clearly out of breath and clearly late. Isla's eyes tracked him for half a second, unimpressed. "Everyone's running late today," she murmured to Phillip. "Maybe he and Elian Abrantes can form a support group."

She refocused on her partner, lifting her chin in a challenge. "Alright," Isla said, straightening her posture. "Try it. Painting moons or whatever you need."

She closed her eyes briefly, settling into a centered stillness that contrasted sharply with the surrounding chaos. When she opened them again, her amber gaze fixed on Phillip with quiet intensity. "But put those mental barriers up properly," she warned, a hint of mischief ghosting through her voice. "Because if I find anything incriminating in that head of yours…"