Populate Trial by Fire | ME Populate of Wistril

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Aselia Verd //:

"Kill?" Quinn echoed, almost insulted. "I'll do my best, as you know I'm not the fondest of Mandalorians… you lot though have shown some mmm" She mused quietly, "Promise. Also, Aether would be quite sad."

A gentle chuckle escaped her lips as she continued to watch the chaos unfold in the arena.

"He a rather ugly cryer… don't tell him I told you." The young Queen gave the woman beside her a cheeky little grin. There was a small understanding, despite most not knowing the Echani's background. There was a unique kinship between Mandalorians and Echani; Quinn could understand it—but that was it.

She watched as the group's formation fell apart. Her eyes settled on the one that Aselia was watching and huffed in amusement. Adelle was trying along with Reina, but the others seemed hardened, so much so that they wanted to prove themselves at all costs. Quinn shook her head as she softly groaned.

"Of course, I'd do my best to get them at least to be on the same page." A hand brushed back her blonde hair as she gently tucked it behind her ear.

"Annoying. You'd think being around the Echani, you would learn to read body language." She shrugged, keeping herself as distant as possible. Quinn couldn't get emotional, not with the two from the Republic still here. If they knew more than they already did, Quinn would be at a disadvantage.

Politics were annoying.

"I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of her, Cousin." Quinn gave Aselia a knowing smirk as she let her eyes drift towards the woman beside her.

"But I wouldn't mind throwing you flat on your arse."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian let out a quiet breath through his nose as Sibylla spoke. We will figure it out together. That was the problem.

His jaw tightened slightly. She said it so easily. Like it wasn't a maze of bad decisions, buried truths, and things he had no intention of ever saying out loud. Like it was something you could just… unpack over tea. He stared at the arena, but he wasn't really seeing it for a second.

Right. Let's just open the vault, Aurelian. Parade the skeletons. Excellent plan.

His grip on the mug tightened before he caught himself, forcing his shoulders to relax. He took another drink, buying himself a second to steady his thoughts.

Then she said it. Friend.

Aurelian turned his head slowly, giving her a look. As defensive as he had ever been.

"You're getting very comfortable with that word," he muttered. "Friend adjacent," he corrected. Then, after a moment "Mandalorian friend adjacent." That felt safer. Less… committed.

He turned back to the arena quickly, as if the correction had resolved something important. It hadn't.

Below, the fight dragged on. Longer than he expected. Longer than he liked.

Aurelian frowned. "Will it?" he said out loud, more to the fight than to Sibylla. His fingers drummed once against the side of his mug. "This is taking a while." It felt like it had stretched into hours. Days. His sense of time was completely gone in the noise and tension.

Another clash rang out. Aurelian leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the field. "I do hope someone jumps in to help them," he added under his breath.

His gaze flicked briefly up toward the stands across from them, landing near Quinn again before shifting just beside her. "There," he said, nodding faintly. "The one near her."

He squinted. "She was dancing with Adelle at the wedding, yes?" He tilted his head slightly, considering. "She looks like she knows what she's doing."

​

 

[Mia Monroe]

Spoiler: Tags

Isley Verd Adelle Bastiel Leddie Gred Jett Vox Reina Daival Kael Varr Basteil Skirata Seris Mataan Jaikell Wyrvhor
In the stands: Siv Kryze Aselia Verd Quinn Varanin Aurelian Veruna Sibylla Abrantes Korda Veydran Sergeant Omen Prisoner #36929

Mai felt Adelle release her grip on the saber, leaving her with nothing but a broken beskad, the Liberator didn’t pause, pressing her attack with Adelle’s own saber now held in her left hand the she felt the pressure she was placing on the former Jedi snap like a rubber band placed under too much strain, her tongue clicked in annoyance as she understood what Isley had done.

Fire filled her vision, sending HUD alarms screaming as it blinded her sensors but that did not mean Mia was blind. The hiss of a whipchord snaking through the air, she twisted her torso, the cord whipping past her as Seris moved in Mia turned to meet her, matching her strike for strike the intensity of her assault slowly driving Mia back, away from Adelle.

But The Liberator was not done.

The ground beneath their feet began to tremble as Mia reached into it, seeking cracks and crevices deep beneath the arena's foundations before she ripped the ground up. Columns of rock and stone lurched upwards shifting the landscape, walls settling between the already scattered foundlings, craters opening as chunks of earth lifted from the floor.

She stopped retreating under Seris’s assault and began pressing back, beskad and lightsaber seeking weak points, driving for gaps in her defense and armour. Throwing a riposte aside, her fingers flicked, sending a boulder hurtling for Adelle.

Beyond the noise of the fight. The gong that had signalled the start rang loudly, calling for the trials end.

Spoiler: TLDR

• Dodges Adelles Whipcord
• Meets Seris attack head on with Adelles saber and her own beskad
• Uses TK to open craters and raise walls of stone across the arena floor
• Throws a chunk of rock at Adelle
• Trial gong sounds calling for the end of the fight.

 

[Tessa Thayne]

The bitterness in Itzhal’s tone earned him a curious tilt of her head, wondering, not for the first time, what was buried in this Protectors past. For a moment she considered asking, but the moment passed as quickly as it had come. She wasn’t sure she cared enough to know, they were not exactly on friendly footing and although she was here and supporting Aether, she doubted very much that the Crimson Dawn’s objectives and morals aligned with the man standing opposite her.

His question earned a smile, her gaze lifting once more to the screens. “You don’t get to be the daughter of a thrice crowned Mand’alor and not complete your verd’gotten.”

Her eyes tracked the fight for a few seconds, the smile fading slipping into something sadder as memory clouded her vision, her eyes dropping from the fight to the bottle in her hand as she picked idly at the label. It had been the last time they’d spent any significant time together before Ra had broadcast dragging her body through the streets of Sundari at the end of the civil war.

That coupled with the general murderous intent that she found in fellow Mandalorians after that day had been what had driven her away. Even now, standing in a room full of Mandalorians united under the banner of a man that had reminded her of who she was, Tessa still felt isolated.

She sighed, taking a long drink before folding her arms, tapping the half empty bottle gently against her elbow. “I was thirteen, it was a couple of years after that that I put the armour away.”

Itzhal Volkihar

 

[Emberlyn Kislo]

Emberlyn didn’t respond immediately.

Her attention lingered on the stabilizer where Izumi had turned it, the fractured weld now aligned with the light in a way that made it harder to ignore. What had been a flaw before now felt… defined. Deliberate. A point of inevitability rather than imperfection. Her fingers hovered near the edge of the table, close enough to reach for it again, but she didn’t—yet. The market moved around them in a steady rhythm. Voices carried. Metal shifted. The distant clink of armor passed like a metronome beneath the moment. And through it all, Izumi’s words remained.

It waits.

A faint breath left her, quieter than the space it occupied. “A piece doesn’t forget where it failed,” Emberlyn said at last, her voice calm, measured—not dismissive, not entirely in agreement. Her gaze remained fixed on the seam. “It just changes how it fails the next time.” There was no defensiveness in it. If anything, a quiet acceptance.

“You’re not wrong about that,” she added, more thoughtfully than anything else, though her tone carried the faintest edge of refinement—of precision. “Reinforcing the mount doesn’t solve the fracture.”

Now she reached for it.

The stabilizer lifted smoothly into her hand, turning once between her fingers as she studied it from a slightly different angle.

“It just buys time.”

Her thumb pressed lightly along the weld, feeling the unevenness rather than simply observing it. “But that’s all a ship ever really is,” Emberlyn continued, almost absently, her attention splitting between the object and the idea itself. “Time. Extended. Carefully.” She shifted her stance slightly, the datapad resting loosely at her side as her mind moved ahead of her words.

“At sixty percent output, this holds,” she said, tapping lightly against the casing. “Below that, the stabilizer compensates too aggressively. It pulls against the mounts, and the entire assembly starts to shear.”

A brief pause followed.

“That’s not a gradual failure,” Emberlyn added. “That’s the kind that decides for you.” Her gaze lifted then, settling on Izumi—not sharp, not defensive, but intent.

“A ship isn’t one fracture,” she said. “It’s a series of them. All waiting. All failing at different times.”

The stabilizer turned once more in her hand before she set it back down, more carefully than before.

“You don’t replace everything at once,” Emberlyn continued, her tone steady, deliberate. “You choose what fails first… and make sure it isn’t the thing that takes the rest with it.” A faint shift passed through her expression—subtle, but present—as she glanced briefly past them, toward nothing in particular.

“I’m not trying to make it perfect,” she added.

Just a fraction quieter.

“Just survivable.”

Her attention returned to the table, to the piece, to the problem. “Blades are simple,” Emberlyn said after a moment, tilting her head slightly as if reconsidering the comparison. “They break, you reforge them, or you set them aside.”

The corner of her mouth lifted faintly—not quite a smile, but something close. “Ships don’t give you that luxury.” She paused just long enough for the thought to settle.

“They fail while you’re still inside them.”

Her gaze shifted then, briefly acknowledging Serrik.

“You’re not wrong,” Emberlyn said lightly, her tone carrying that same quiet composure. “Most people would replace it.” There was no judgment in it. Just fact. “But most people didn’t build theirs from scrap and stubbornness.” The faintest trace of dry humor threaded through the line before it disappeared as quickly as it came.

The stabilizer settled back onto the table with a soft, deliberate clink.

Emberlyn’s attention shifted fully to the vendor now, her posture unchanged—but the focus behind it sharpened. “So,” she said, tilting her head just slightly, voice even, controlled.

“What else do you have that hasn’t already decided how it’s going to fail?”

Tag: Niijima Izumi | Serrik Skirata ​

 

[Aselia Verd]

Aselial listened to Quinn, though most of her attention was still drawn to the arena below, even as the conversation continued. The fractures only deepened, movements no longer clean, no longer shared. Her posture hadn't relaxed, not really; her weight still forward against the railing, like she could step into it if needed. The beskar plates of her gauntlets creaked faintly as her grip adjusted, metal fingers resting firm against the edge. Phantom shifted beneath her touch, more alert now, a quiet, restless energy in the creature as she tracked the same movement. Aselia's hand brushed along her back once, slower this time, grounding both of them before settling again.

"Aether does have a reputation to maintain," she replied dryly, her voice slightly modulated by the helmet, though the edge of it was softer than it might have been with anyone else. "Wouldn't want that ruined." Her gaze flicked briefly toward Quinn at the promise, acknowledging it, then drifted back down almost immediately. Adelle adjusted again below, compensating, trying to hold something together that wasn't being held by the others, and Aselia's visor lingered there a fraction longer than anywhere else before she exhaled quietly through her nose. "They're close to losing it entirely. If they don't correct soon."

At the mention of the Echani, there was a faint shift in her posture, something thoughtful rather than dismissive. "They're reading it. They're just not trusting it, and in some cases, the skill gap is just too great." Phantom gave another soft chitter, claws pressing lightly as she leaned forward, mirroring that same tension, and Aselia's thumb brushed absently along her back again.

Quinn's next comment pulled her attention away fully this time. "I'm not the one you'd embarrass," Aselia replied, a faint smirk carried in her tone, familiar and easy. There was no bite to it, just that quiet confidence she carried without effort. Although the truth of it was, if it came down to a duel with the force, Quinn would defeat her handily. In a contest of conventional arms, she had no doubt she would best Quinn.

A slight pause followed, her posture shifting just enough to suggest something more open beneath the armor. "But if you're going to do it, don't half-ass it." The smirk lingered in her voice, subtle but genuine. "Teach me properly, one day." Her visor dipped briefly toward the arena again, tracking movement, then back to Quinn. "Wouldn't mind understanding it the way you do."

The shift came a heartbeat later.

Aselia felt it before the arena fully responded, the tremor carrying up through the structure and into the railing beneath her hands. Her posture tightened immediately, weight settling forward with intent, every line of her focus locking onto the sudden upheaval below. The gauntlet at the railing flexed slightly as her grip firmed, instinct pressing against restraint. Phantom reacted a moment after, a sharp, uneasy chitter slipping from her as her claws pressed into the railing, body low and tense as the arena floor fractured and rose.

"Come on," Aselia murmured under her breath, the helmet's filter carrying the quiet edge.

Her visor tracked everything in rapid succession. Adelle forced back, pressure snapping. Seris stepping in, attempting to drive Mia off. Terrain shifting. Lines are breaking further instead of reforming. Then Mia changed the whole battle once again.

The boulder moved.

Aselia's gauntleted hand tightened against the railing, fingers curling as instinct pulled at her to act but she held. Her jaw set behind the helmet, unseen but present in the way her posture locked, forcing herself to stay where she was, to let it play out just a moment longer.

Phantom shifted beside her, another restless sound slipping free as she leaned forward, mirroring that same urgency. Aselia's hand came down to her without looking, armored fingers brushing more carefully along her back in a steady, grounding motion.

"Move…" she muttered quietly, eyes locked on Adelle.

TAG: Quinn Varanin
Indirect Tag: Mia Monroe Adelle Bastiel
​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Aselia Verd //: Reina Daival //:

Quinn let her eyes wander to Aselia for just a moment when she mentioned wanting to learn. A little grin curled her lips as she let her attention flicker back to the copper-haired woman in the arena.

"Perhaps." The Force began to bellow around her. She was not one to typically let her presence be known, but the first few barriers began to release, and through the Force, her presence began to pulse. The Echani often seemed underestimated, not seen as a threat. A convenient existence, as she had slowly become the diplomatic voice and face of the Dark Council.

Her lack of Force power allowed others to feel comfortable, to digest her presence, and only look at the pretty face that smiled back.

"Maybe there's hope for you, cousin." A little jab with a soft laugh as she focused back on the fight. She wanted to reach in and help Reina, but she didn't think it would be welcome. The girl was constantly wanting to prove herself to everyone around her.

For just a moment, her face softened as she felt the need to win and be noticed by Reina through their connection. If Quinn could do anything, she would grant her that wish.

The gong made itself known, and Quinn raised a brow.

"How annoying and primal…" She groaned under her breath. "What does that even mean?" That was one thing the Sith and the Mandalorians could agree on… this primitive nature of their combat… There was no elegance or heightened knowledge.

Though she could just be a snob. As much as she trusted her Mother, she did wonder what she saw in these unsophisticated brutes…

"They're a mess down there…" She sighed.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Kalevala, Outer Rim Territories

​

Tessa's face lit up with a gentle smile that played softly upon her lips, a stark contrast to the usual gloom that Itzhal often noticed etched into her features and the weariness that hung around her shoulders like a familiar jacket. For a moment, the Morellian caught a glimpse of the woman she could be, a reflection of a future as radiant as the first rays of sunlight. Free from the worries that haunted her every step, no longer the hunted prey, always looking over her shoulder, braced for the next misfortune to strike. Instead, he saw her surrounded by the warmth and familiarity of people who welcomed her, a stolen home reclaimed, and a woman now stronger for the trials that she had faced. It was a beautiful dream, an ember of that perfect future, drowned just as swiftly under the sorrows of reality.

The warm amber light from the flickering flames of nearby braizers cast a soft glow, illuminating the sleek curve of the older Mandalorian's Buy'ce as he fixed his gaze on the screens before him. Amidst the swirling debris and rippling battlefield, his eyes were drawn to the imposing figure of the thrice-crowned Mand'alor, a masterwork of war returned to the site of her creation. Around her, ominous cracks spread in fractal patterns, a fraction of her strength unleashed upon the very foundations of the arena.

Quietly, he wondered to himself what unfortunate individual would be repairing all the damage dealt, and whether Siv Kryze would be pleased with the current condition of his ancestor's castle. Likely not. Although Itzhal knew the other man was pragmatic, they'd probably be pleased that the arena had been used, but similarly displeased with the overkill in the final moments of the bout.

Eventually, his gaze tore from the sight of the screens and back towards Tessa Thayne—perhaps the worst to have suffered in the cracks and crevices left behind in Mia Monroe's wake. Thirteen years old, it was a paltry age for one with more than half her life spent running from the consequences of her family's struggles. "Compliments to your Goran; the armour fits you well."

Tags: Tessa Thayne​

 

[Tessa Thayne]

Tessa's eyes followed his, back to the holoscreens she caught sight of Adelle, without a whole weapon and she straightened as her mother was pushed away from her. "Osik." she whispered. It was different, seeing it from the outside, she was used to being in the fight against her mother. That had been her childhood, being thrown to the mat over and over again, counting bruises and broken bones after. Some might have called it abuse, but they never saw what came after, the care and quiet conversation. Everything she had been put through was meant to make her capable of survival against a galaxy that had done its utmost to eradicate her one way or another.

The cracks rippled across the floor as the battlefield changed, power flexed as easily as breathing reminding her of the legacy that she had done everything in her power to escape. And yet, here she was.

"I craft my own armour." she replied, without tearing her eyes away as the gong echoed and many of the elders around them loosed breaths. The gong just meant the time limit was up, it didn't mean that the foundlings would stop fighting.

"My father taught me." Her eyes flicked towards Itzhal briefly. "Any of yours in this fight?"

Itzhal Volkihar

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Aurelian Veruna

There was no helping how Sibylla's lips gave a subtle twitch in amusement at Aurelian's reaction and words.

"Mmhmm...noted," she murmured, then added with the faintest glimmer of a tease in her tone. "Mandalorian friend adjacent. I shall be sure to update all official records accordingly."

Had anyone told her she'd be crossing such intimate banter back and forth with Aurelian Veruna years ago, she'd have laughed.

Actually, no. She'd have held her composure and perhaps lofted her delicate brow with only the most subtle expression of disbelief. Now, she couldn't image spending her free time without him.

One shoulder gently bumped against him even as her attention followed his back to the arena, the humor fading as the fight stretched on longer than comfort allowed, unable to help how her fingers tightened slightly around her glass.

At his nod, Sibylla drew her attention back across the stands as she followed the line of his sight to the woman in armor just beside Quinn. Sibylla narrowed her eyes slightly, searching her memory, trying to remember any specific identifying sigils. Honestly.... Sibylla had imbibed far too much drink that evening, and Aurelian had to make sure she made it back soundly -- and perfectly respectfully-ish -- to her room.

Would it be terrible to say she didn't ... quite recall?

With the armor, Sibylla hadn't placed the woman in Beskar'gam with the one who had the fantastic red dress she had admired. But for what it was worth, sober Sibylla was able to pick up on a few clues and cues on the woman's body language. She took in the forward posture, the alertness in her stance, the dark shadow that was Phantom moving about her, and also how Aselia, in turn, petted the creature.

"Not... really. But must be someone Adelle trusts enough to have Phantom with them." Sibylla admitted a bit sheepishly, only to give a grimace and feel her heart seem to leap to her throat at Mia's response to the fight below, watching the boulder fly towards Adelle even as the gong sounded the end of the fight.

Time stopped for the next few crazy, chaotic seconds of how the fight would end.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Kalevala, Outer Rim Territories

​

"Then, compliments to your father. He was an excellent teacher," Itzhal remarked, as he cast a discerning gaze over the intricate embellishments of bronze woven into the striking hue of gleaming jade plates—an interesting colour, what did duty mean to Tessa Thayne, or had it meant something else to her?

His buy'ce tilted forward, a slight nod in acknowledgement of the craftsmanship, even as he found himself pondering the dedication and mastery required to work Beskar at such a young age. It was no easy task. Despite having spent many years as a Mandalorian, he had never found the time to learn; there always seemed to be another skill just out of reach, the ability to craft his own Beskar'gam was just one of those, though perhaps the most noticeable considering the sheer array of talents he'd picked up over the years. He was certain he would continue to acquire more in due time, even if he left others to fill the gaps that remained in his arsenal.

With a slow twist of his Buy'ce, Itzhal gazed back towards the screen above, an unnecessary step with the security feeds linked into his helmet, but a charade he found himself committing to regardless as his gaze lingered on the final moments of the Verd'goten.

"Not in the traditional sense," he started, aware that he'd not gotten around to the question that Tessa had originally asked. His eyes flickered over the chaotic mess that the brawl had dissolved into, eventually lingering on a single figure. "I cannot claim to be responsible for her skills or the spirit that has pushed her so far in this fight, but of those involved, I find myself supporting Ms Bastiel, she is..."

Tags: Tessa Thayne​

 

[Isley Verd]

Assets: Armor | Lightsaber

KALEVALA
The Arena

Mand'alor the Reclaimer allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction.

This was not due to bloodlust. This was not due to some deranged enjoyment derived from crossing blades with those who were less experienced. No. This was pride. A fleeting ember of taking joy in the stand of others. The souls before him had seen the work of literal gods, and what did they do? They charged in. And when one fell, they rushed to their aide...before taking up the blade and resuming the charge.

But there was no time to revel in such feelings. The test had yet to conclude and the battle's final chapter had not been written. His gaze immediately snapped towards the desperate attempt made by the young woman bearing the tied zip cord. She moved forward, attempting to clothesline the Mand'alor with the tangled line. It was a bold and desperate gambit, one that Isley could respect. Even after taking a blow from the whistling birds, she still fought on.

Isley's beskad answered viciously. He cleaved through the whipcord as it advanced, leaving him free from restraint. He then watched as she fell to the ground and made no attempt to harm her further. His gaze followed the advance of the Togruta, who through his weapons to the sand immediately. The warrior made a bold dash in and rendered immediate aid to the young woman. To that, the Mand'alor did not raise a hand to oppose. Rather, he nodded as the Togruta carried the young woman to the sidelines. Good.

The next offensive to greet the Mand'alor was a helmet thrown by the young Zabrak. Isley side-stepped the buyce, eyebrow raising in slight confusion at the tactic, before he noticed her pistols firing once more. The helmet was just absurd enough of an attempt that he was not able to completely avoid both of the weapon's attacks. The ion bolt whizzed past him, yet the stun ring collided with his left pauldron. Isley seethed as numbness shot through his arm. He had let his guard down and was paying the price.

And what a price it was. For as he raised his beskad to defend himself from the charging Torgruta and Zabrak, the grenade he had hurled at Seris was hurled back. She had chosen, smartly, to detonate it in point-blank proximity. In normal circumstances, Isley would have protected himself with the Force - but as he was focused on robbing Adelle of that very same advantage, the tactic bore fruit. The explosive force ripped Isley off his feet and sent him hurtling back. It was enough to remove him from the immediate melee range of the Zabrak, the Togruta, and Thunderous One, and the Veteran.

The Mand'alor quickly righted himself as his comrade altered the very battlefield with the force. Walls of earth were raised at her whim, creating obstacles for the next generation to hurtle in their charge against him. Isley grit his teeth and raised his number left arm, pointing the vambrace forward. He knew how he would tie a bow on this bout. A cryoban wrist rocket fired at the Veteran would occupy his attention, freeing Isley to engage the trio in melee. He stepped forward, ready to fi-

CRASH!

The din of the gong reached his ears and he allowed his arm to go limp at his side. His beskad was stabbed into the earth before he raised his dominant hand above his head. "At ease young ones. This fight is over." he began. "You have each fought well. Despite being young. Despite having little experience facing off against adversaries like these, you stood together and fought. When one faltered, the others rose. When one fell, the others stemmed the bleeding. This is what it means to fight as a Mandalorian. Use everything at your disposal and never leave your kin behind."

"Remember this day and this fight. For there will come the moment when you stand before the mightiest of the Jedi or the cruelest of the Sith. Remember how to work together. And rest assured, when that day comes, we will arm you with the tools to lay even the gods low."

He paused, placing his gaze upon Mand'alor the Liberator. "From where I'm standing, I don't see Foundlings anymore. I'm seeing full-fledged warriors. What are you seeing, Mia?"​

Mia Monroe Adelle Bastiel Leddie Gred Jett Vox Reina Daival Kael Varr Basteil Skirata Seris Mataan Jaikell Wyrvhor
In the stands: Siv Kryze Aselia Verd Quinn Varanin Aurelian Veruna Sibylla Abrantes Korda Veydran Sergeant Omen Prisoner #36929​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

The Verd'goten

The whipcord sailed past the hilt as Mia pivoted out of the way. Seris charged in and forced the Liberator back. It gave Adelle a moment to breathe, to think.

"Catch! Behind you!"

Adelle turned toward the shout and immediately had to reach up to catch the hilt of the lightsaber, ducking to the side to avoid the red blade. Well a weapon was a weapon, red blade or not. Adelle swapped the broken blade to her left hand—she could still use it to block. With the lightsaber in her right hand, she surged forward towards Mia again and opened comms to the other foundlings.

“Reclaimer has a draining aura,” she called out as she joined Seris, trying to stay on the opposite flank of Mia. “Both use tutaminis—”

A sonic explosion cracked through the arena.

“—you’ll need to—”

The ground beneath her feet quaked and gave as a pillar of earth shot up between her and Mia. Adelle had to focus on keeping her feet light as the Liberator turned the ground itself against them.

“—overwhelm it. I’ve got two Forcebreaker—”

Her HUD pinged a proximity alert that immediately became a warning. Adelle’s head snapped to the side, the boulder already nearly on top of her. Ice ran through her veins.

There was no time.

She did the only thing she could in the heartbeat she had and brought her arms up in a futile effort to protect her head.

Spoiler: Tags

Mia Monroe
Isley Verd
Kael Varr Basteil Skirata
Reina Daival
Seris Mataan
Jett Vox
Leddie Gred
Aselia Verd
Aurelian Veruna
Sibylla Abrantes
Siv Kryze
Sergeant Omen
Quinn Varanin

 

[Kael Varr Basteil Skirata]

OBJECTIVE 1
Primary Weapon: Plasma Bow
Secondary Weapon: Paired Beskar Tonfa

Kael was exhausted, frustrated, and beyond angry. As he was charging back into the fray, he felt the earth under his boots heave, and he could feel, if only for an instant, his Buir's fear spike. In that moment, to him, time slowed to a crawl. He had microseconds to figure out what to do. Taking both his tonfa, he threw them at the boulder, pushing them with the force so that they buried themselves deep into the rock. Using them as anchor points, he broke the boulder apart, pouring all his anger, rage, and fatigue into the force as he slung the broken pieces away, leaving only a few smaller pieces to hit his mother, and deadening the blow. He heard the gong and slowly started to stagger his way in Adelle's direction, ignoring the Mand'alor's speech. In his mind, only Mand'alor the Iron deserved his respect, not these two who knowingly beat on foundlings, foundlings who came here expecting a trial of their skills as warriors, not the force. However, he would meditate on that later; for now, he needed to check on his Buir, and that put a damper on all his rage.

Adelle Bastiel

 

[Jett Vox]

​

Her head hurt, her body hurt. Everything hurt but at least she was awake. Kael had rejoined the fight for one last charge and Jett knew she wouldn't be able to make another attack, but then the gong fell and they were declared warriors. Jett didn't really feel like she'd earned anything. She pulled herself to her feet, dust and dirt falling from her armor. The others had though. Compared to her, they were all powerhouses with incredible abilities. Jett... well she was just... here. A nobody. A nothing. Lucky enough to have faced the Verd'goten with a group of young warriors who had trained to make themselves better. Had served their lives to mentors who made them what they were.

Jett... well she'd just shown up and taken a win for the work others had done.

She didn't feel like stepping forward. She didn't feel like facing the Mandalorians, so she grabbed her blaster rifle and her broken whipcord and quietly headed for the edge of the arena, shoulders clenched, helmet lowered in shame. She didn't belong here. This was no place for an ineffectual teenager.

When she reached the exits, she disappeared through them. This had not been her Verd'goten.

Adelle Bastiel Kael Varr Basteil Skirata Mia Monroe Isley Verd Sergeant Omen

 

[Leddie Gred]

Leddie huffed, trying to catch her breath as she reeled back. Karking.... that grenade was close. Ow. She noticed Reina Daival had tossed her lightsaber to Adelle Bastiel . Wait... ten more rounds in the bandoleer/pistol belt she had, and one five shot Mite in the holster. Leddie quickly unhooked the belt, tossing it to the other Mandalorian as hard as she could. It was a risk. You didn't turn your back on an opponent at melee ranges, but she had a backup plan, and Reina needed a weapon.

Leddie turned back to see.... Oh osik. "Alter Enviorment." She said quietly. She'd only seen her own father use the skill once or twice. And looking around.... Double osik. Leddie quick swapped for other Trayc'kal. She didn't have her Buy'ce now, horns and Epicanthix styled jewlry that ringed them now visable. She charged in again for more strike, hoping Isley Verd would have break his concentration before.... Wait? What the heck was that noise? Then it all seemed to stop.

She looked around. At the others. At Isley. As he spoke though, Leddie couldn't exactly reconcial how he spoke now and how he fought. It was just.... Her hands slowly started shaking as the adrenalin wore off. even with the help, she'd still had memories ripped back to the front of her mind she'd tried to bury. This didn't feel like a win to her. It just felt like she'd been thrown back to the worst time of her life. It was obvious she didn't seem to be taking in what Isley said, just walking over to pick up her helmet, pausing to look at it for a moment. What had she gotten into?

Mia Monroe Kael Varr Basteil Skirata Jett Vox Seris Mataan

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

OBJECTIVE III - KALEVALA

Aether couldn't help himself from smiling.

The surprise which claimed Kirae's face was enough to cause his lips to tremble momentarily with amusement. However, he did not outright laugh in her face. That would have been rude. Rather, he simply reached out and patted Torva's shoulder. "I'm sure the resemblance is striking, yes?"

After all, the two of them were mixed. She was fiery-haired and porcelain. He was...black and blacker.

Nonetheless, Aether's gaze wandered to the screen momentarily as the fighting continued. He felt mixed regarding the contest unfolding there. On one hand, he understood that exposing the next generation to exactly what awaited them in the Galaxy was valuable. On the other...was it necessary to turn the arena into a landmine of rocks and walls?

"Remind me to give them all the next week off...they're going to need it..." he muttered to no one in particular, before motioning towards the pair before him.

"I suppose I do owe the two of you an apology. With how insane recent events have been, I haven't been able to teach you in the Wolves. How has training been in my absence?"

Kirae Orade + Torva Vikar

 

[Caelan Mataan]

(wrong characcter)

 

[Seris Mataan]

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Seris felt the shift as the exchange tightened, the pressure building as the fight compressed into sharper, more punishing rhythms. The twin white blades in her hands moved in disciplined arcs, meeting beskad and saber in controlled clashes, each strike deliberate, each step measured against the shifting terrain beneath her feet. The counters she faced came fast and precise, pressing for mistakes, forcing her to yield space in inches rather than steps.

As one of her strikes was turned aside, she allowed the motion to carry just a fraction longer than expected before cutting power to her off-hand saber mid-flow. The sudden absence of resistance created a gap where there should not have been one, a deliberate fracture in the cadence of the fight. It was subtle, but intentional, a moment designed to draw a reaction.

Stepping into it, her remaining blade caught the incoming strike just enough to redirect it off-line, her body already slipping through the space she had created. In the same breath, the extinguished saber reignited, snapping back to life as it returned in a tight, controlled cut that forced a shift rather than a commitment. It was meant to interrupt, to break the pressure long enough to create space where there had been none.

The ground lurched violently beneath them as the battlefield itself was torn apart, stone erupting upward in jagged columns, splitting lines of sight and movement alike. Seris adjusted without hesitation, her footing shifting with the terrain, balance maintained through quiet, disciplined control of the Force as dust and debris swallowed the arena.

Seris stopped instantly. No lingering strike, no follow-through. Both blades stilled and then deactivated in tandem, their brilliant white light vanishing as the hum faded into the wind and settling debris. For a moment, she remained where she stood, posture steady, breathing controlled, the tension of the fight releasing as cleanly as it had been held.

She straightened and gave a brief, respectful salute toward Mia, the gesture simple and without flourish, acknowledging the Mand'alor and the trial without words.

Then her attention shifted.

Seris turned her gaze toward Isley as he began to speak, her posture composed, her expression calm once more as she listened in silence, the storm around them finally beginning to settle.

TAG: Isley Verd Mia Monroe Adelle Bastiel Leddie Gred Reina Daival Jett Vox + Anyone I missed
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[Aselia Verd]

Aselia felt the shift in the arena before the gong had fully settled, the violence of the moment unraveling into something quieter. Dust still hung in the air, drifting through shafts of light as the fractured terrain slowly stilled. Her weight eased back from the railing by a fraction, gauntleted fingers loosening where they had tightened without her noticing, but her attention didn't leave the field. It lingered, tracking not the end of the fight but what followed it.

Quinn's presence flared beside her, no longer restrained. It rolled outward in measured pulses, controlled but undeniable, a quiet assertion of what she was rather than something meant to intimidate. Aselia's gaze turned toward her, catching it, acknowledging it without comment before returning to the arena below.

"Maybe," Aselia replied, the faintest hint of a smirk threading into her tone at Quinn's jab. "Don't set your expectations too high."

Below, the aftermath unfolded in uneven lines. Kael is moving immediately toward Adelle, driven by instinct more than anything else. Others were slower to react, caught between adrenaline and the sudden absence of direction. Leddie's hands were shaking as the weight of it settled in. Seris composed, already back in control, clean in the way she always was. And Jett

Aselia's gaze tracked her as she turned away, slipping toward the edge of the arena with her head lowered, shoulders drawn in tight.

"That one's already halfway out," Aselia said quietly, more to the moment than to Quinn, though she knew she'd hear it. There was no judgment in it, just recognition. "Better have a talk with that one."

Her arms folded loosely across her chest as she straightened fully, the tension in her posture settling into something more controlled, more familiar.

"They're not supposed to look clean," she added after a moment, voice even, eyes still moving across the field, picking out the details others would miss. "This is a proving ground, forcing strangers into learning how to work together." The echo of the gong still seemed to linger beneath everything, though the silence it left behind felt heavier than the noise had been.

"They held formation longer than I expected," Aselia continued, quieter now. "They adjusted when it broke. Covered each other when it mattered, but the odds were against them. My father and Mia both showed up. There was only survival, which they did."

A brief pause followed, her gaze drifting back toward Quinn, meeting her with that same steady presence.

"You call it primal," she said, not dismissive, but not agreeing either. "To an echani? Probably, but survival is primal."

Her eyes returned to the arena, to the uneven line of warriors no longer fighting but still carrying it in the way they stood, the way they moved, the way some of them struggled to come down from it.

"Elegance comes later," Aselia added. "If they survive long enough to earn it." she reached up to phantom still on her shoulder, running a gentle hand down her back again before picking her up and setting phantom on the ground. No doubt she wanted Adelle with the fighting over.

TAG: Quinn Varanin
Indirect Tag: Adelle Bastiel Jett Vox
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