Faction Training Grounds

[Laphisto]

Laphisto's Gear: Customized Set of LO-58A, Broad Saber
Soldiers Gear:LO-58A ,LO-52R, LO-20D,LO-10M,LO-22S
Known armor AT-ASMKII

Laphisto had moved ahead of Iandre Athlea and the rest of Tarain's Sword, giving himself a respectable head start as he assumed temporary command of the Red Lancers the second full battalion the Lilaste Order had fielded. They were disciplined and eager, shaped by long months of drilling, but they still lacked the hardened battlefield experience that defined Tarain's Sword. That was exactly why Laphisto had chosen to lead them himself. He wanted to gauge the battalion's readiness and, just as importantly, to see how his apprentice would handle the burden of real command.

Everyone involved understood that this operation, though controlled, was a live-fire exercise. EMP rounds filled every magazine and power pack nonlethal, but potent enough to stun, knock combatants unconscious, or overload armor systems entirely. The danger remained real, yet measured. It would test instincts, decision-making, and cohesion under stress.

The exercise grounds lay deep within Moltok territory. Laphisto had secured permission to use one of their ancient stone temples as the Lilaste Order's forward operating base, and the Moltoks had agreed on one curious condition: that they be allowed to watch. They offered no explanation, and Laphisto saw no reason to deny them. Now they gathered silently along the periphery broad silhouettes, luminous eyes, and unreadable expressions observing in near-ceremonial stillness as the Lilaste Order set its pieces on the board.

Inside the temple, the holo-display flickered to life. Pale blue light washed across carved pillars and weathered murals as Laphisto leaned over the tactical map. He checked every marker twice, ensuring the system correctly reflected the position of each soldier. The objective he had prepared for Iandre was straightforward on the surface: secure the civilians clustered at the center of the region and eliminate enemy opposition. Straightforward, but layered. Designed to challenge every instinct she had been cultivating.

The battlefield was shaped with deliberate care. One company of Red Lancers had been deployed to the settlement west of the temple that served as his FOB. Another company had been positioned the middle village to the north, its narrow paths and clustered homes ideal for ambush and confusion. To both the eastern and western villages he had assigned five AT-ASMKII walkers each the squat, armored assault walkers that could turn the tide of an engagement simply by arriving. his men were in position now all they had to do was wait for Iandres arrival.

map:
Key
Red= Infantry
Teal = armor

 

[Kei Amadis]

Tag: Laphisto

Knelt in meditation as the shuttle descended, the disquiet in the Force was deafening. Each breath earned a heavy, hard-won calm for the Dark Jedi Master. A great weight pressed on him, resting upon an unshakable river of resolve.

Amadis wore his usual Triple-Ward Armor, now marked with the Liliaste Order, carrying a lightsaber at his side. Otherwise, he was outfitted like the rest of the group. His helmet sat beside him, face scarred by his own crusades; silver strands through his hair, and a deep weariness to his bearing. One of the troops again, as in the days long before, it was simpler this way. A return to what he had known in the First Republic before its fall. Before the Army of Light. Before the Silvers. Before his quiet retirement on Kashyyyk. Before his family, and before their butchery at the Mandalorian Empire's hands.

Their unit held a few wildcards. Once a special forces unit, reforged through many incarnations, it had become a place for old soldiers to retire. Some of the senior officers who remained were working with the Liliaste Order for the first time, trying to find their footing and learn to integrate.

Old soldiers. Like Amadis. No longer the fastest, but carrying experience to spare. He exhaled as the shuttle touched down, the ramp lowering. The older Jedi General rose. When his boots met the ground, his training came back, and the heavy burden where his heart used to be eased, for now.

"Ready for orders."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The shuttle doors slid open with a low hiss, releasing Iandre into the thick, humid air of Moltok territory. The warmth clung instantly to the dark plates of her Lilaste Order armor, settling along the seams and catching faintly against the black braid that swept down her back. Tarain's Sword descended behind her in disciplined formation, each soldier encased in the same armor that marked them as the Order's finest. Their boots struck the jungle soil with quiet confidence, but beneath that precision pulsed an unmistakable tension—because everyone present understood the weight of what awaited them. Their opponent was already in the field. Not an enemy force, not insurgents, not Imperial remnants. But Laphisto himself. And that truth carried a gravity no soldier could ignore.

The ancient Moltok temple rose ahead, its carved stone arches half-claimed by vines and soft luminescent moss. Massive Moltok observers lined the edges of the clearing, their expressions unreadable and their glowing eyes tracking every movement with ceremonial solemnity. Under other circumstances, their silent scrutiny might have made Iandre feel exposed, but today the watchfulness only sharpened her focus. This was a proving ground—one Laphisto had chosen with deliberate intent.

Inside the temple, the blue wash of a holo-map flickered across towering stone columns, casting shifting light across the murals etched there by generations long gone. A Lilaste tactical officer stood waiting at the table's edge, snapping into a crisp salute the moment she approached. "Second Lieutenant Athlea. Your opponent is already deployed. Red Lancers are in full field formation per Master Laphisto's design." Iandre returned the salute with equal precision, armored plates clicking faintly as she stepped into the map's light and signaled for the briefing to continue. "Understood," she said, voice even. "Show me the field."

The map expanded, revealing the battlefield Laphisto had constructed with the ruthless elegance of a commander who understood terrain and psychology equally. Walkers were positioned along the flanks, creating zones of influence designed to lure inexperienced commanders into false openings. Infantry formations appeared scattered and lightly defended at first glance. Still, the spacing revealed a different truth: these pockets were bait, encouraging impulsive pushes that would collapse into enfilades and counterstrikes. Villages dotted the map like stepping stones, their placement forcing any advancing force to choose between predictable funnels or risky, concealed routes. And at the center of it all—the civilians she was meant to secure. A straightforward objective wrapped in layers of traps and misdirection. Classic Laphisto.

She studied the map in silence for a moment, the soft blue light reflecting in her grey eyes. Then she spoke, her tone measured.
"A clean objective… but crafted to punish predictability."
Her gaze lifted toward the horizon where she knew he waited, already setting his pieces in motion. There was no fear in her voice—only understanding.
"This is exactly what it looks like when he wants to see if I can beat him."

Heavy, grounded footsteps approached behind her. Amadis stepped forward, the weight of his years in war evident in every movement. His armor bore the marks of battles survived, and the steady calm in his presence was unmistakable. He offered a crisp salute. "Ready for orders." Iandre didn't hesitate; she shifted fluidly into command, without glancing back at the officer or toward the invisible place where her mentor staged his opposition. She had been trained for this moment, shaped for it. Now she had to prove it.

"Master Amadis," she began, her voice a calm current beneath the hum of the holo-map, "I'm assigning you to the northern infiltration element. He will expect a direct advance. We won't give him one." Her hand lifted to trace the arc of the northern village cluster. The route was indirect, demanding finesse, but if executed well, it could collapse the supporting structure of Laphisto's formation before he could redirect.
"Break their lines before they consolidate. We control the tempo from the first exchange."

She surveyed the map once more, her gaze sliding from the terrain to the silent Moltok observers, to her own soldiers waiting outside the temple, and finally settling on the thought of Laphisto—somewhere beyond the ridge, watching, analyzing, preparing.
"The Moltoks are watching. Tarain's Sword is watching." Her voice lowered to something steadier, sharper. "And he is watching. Every mistake will be measured."
But rather than shrink from the pressure, she embraced it as though it were a forge she intended to walk into willingly.

Her armored finger tapped the central corridor, where she planned to take her Sword directly into the heart of the engagement.
"Tarain's Sword advances through the center. Red Lancers on the east and west will hold until we collapse the middle." The conviction in her voice carried the weight of both strategy and promise. "I intend to win this engagement." There was no arrogance in the words—only determination.

She turned fully toward Amadis.
"Form on me. Five minutes to deploy."

As the holo-map dimmed and the temple's shadows lengthened around her, Iandre drew a steady breath and squared her shoulders beneath her armor. She wasn't the apprentice tonight. She wasn't the student shadowing a master. She was the commander of Tarain's Sword, leading her forces into a battlefield crafted by the man who had taught her everything she knew.

And she intended to prove—decisively—that she was ready.

Laphisto Kei Amadis