Faction Tutaminis (All Jedi)

[Caltin Vanagor]

Tutaminis
Shadow Sanctuary
Alderaan

The sun had barely begun to pierce the veil of mist that curled around the shoreline of Shadow Sanctuary. Dew still clung to the ancient pines and singing ferns that lined the meditation paths. Somewhere across the tide, the distant chime of the sea echoed like a memory through the hills.

Caltin Vanagor stood alone in the Open Stone Circle—a clearing of white-veined stone set into the very bedrock of the island. Here, there were no walls. Just open air, encircled by ancient trees and quiet winds. The ground beneath his feet hummed faintly with Force resonance, a natural convergence the Jedi Master had amplified over years of meditation and focus.

He was not armored today. No sigils of war. He DID have Conservator nearby, but the reason for that will present itself soon enough.

Instead, he wore simple Jedi robes—off-white tunic, earth-brown belt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His frame, massive and deliberate, moved with quiet purpose as he placed small resonant crystal orbs along the outer rim of the circle. Each orb was hand-shaped, no larger than a child’s fist, yet humming with subtle power.

They would amplify ambient energy for the lesson.

Behind him, a small meditation brazier burned low with green flame—controlled, focused. A symbol of the energy they would soon work to absorb, transform, and release.
As the final orb was placed, he stood still in the center of the circle. Eyes closed.

Breathing deep.

The island listened.

Minutes passed. Then—footsteps. Dozens of them. Soft boots on the path. The murmurs of younglings, Knights, and even a few older Masters as they approached. A mix of ages. Species. Backgrounds. All invited. Some by holocron. Some by word of mouth. Some simply... drawn here.

Among them, Connel Vanagor stood in the back, silent in his black Shadow armor, helmet off, arms crossed. The Sentinel-Watchman of Alderaan. Protector of the planet. He had come not to learn—but to witness. To listen. To remember his father not only as the warrior—but as the teacher.

Caltin raised a hand gently and the murmuring stopped.

Welcome, he said, his deep voice resonating like the echo of a mountain cave. If you are here, that means you have heard the word: Tutaminis. You’ve all read the definition—‘the skill of absorbing energy through the Force.’ But that’s not why we’re here today.

He walked slowly, barefoot on the stone, his presence calm but undeniable and then in a flash pulled Conservator into his hand, ignited the blade and jammed it into his hand. If they would notice the blade close to ⅔ the way into his hand yet no blade out the other side, they would see the struggle in his face to maintain it. This was clearly not a skill that was to be undervalued.

We are not here to study it... We are here to understand it. A pause. His eyes scanned the crowd, from the youngest to the eldest.

Tutaminis is not just a skill. It is trust. It is surrender. It is control without domination. It is survival without fear.
Caltin disengaged his weapon, shaked his free hand briefly, showing the burn mark in his skin as it healed and set down his weapon. He then stepped beside the brazier and let the green flame lick up into his palm, catching briefly on his skin—but not burning him. Instead, it curled around his hand, then vanished.

You may never need this technique on the battlefield, he said. You may never stop a bolt of lightning or the blade of a darksider. In fact I hope none of you do, because if that is all you are here for, you are wasting your, and my time. This lesson isn’t about lightning or blades., but hopefully this will save your life if you ever need it. He turned toward the sea, letting the wind catch his robe(which is really just a hoodie).

The lesson is that you don’t have to strike to survive. You don’t have to fight to overcome. Sometimes, the strongest thing you can do... is to stand still. Hold the fire. And let it pass. He looked around with the stern look some would say “The Big Grump” was known for.

Every Jedi faces moments where the galaxy throws fire at us. Blaster bolts. Lightning. Rage. Hate. The Sith weaponize fear, and the war weaponizes chaos.

He looked toward a small Mirialan youngling, no older than seven, and knelt to meet her gaze. But we... we learn to hold the fire, not to be burned by it. That is Tutaminis. The art of not reacting. The strength of standing still in the storm.”
She blinked. He offered a slow, reassuring nod.

He stood again, calling gently through the Force. The orbs around the circle began to hum. Warm light drifted upward, forming a protective, glowing ring.

He raised both arms slowly, palms facing outward.

I want each of you to step into the circle when called(OOC Note- When you posted, consider yourself called ). One at a time. You will feel discomfort. Tension. Resistance. You may even feel afraid. That’s normal. It’s the fire knocking on your skin. A pause.

But remember this—you are not the flame, nor the fear. You are the vessel. What you choose to do with the fire... is what defines you.

The first Knight one from the “Temple of the Elements” on Atollon, stepped forward. The orbs flared briefly. A faint pulse of raw energy arced toward her chest. She flinched.
Caltin said nothing at first. Only approached quietly, placed a hand behind her back—not to shield, but to steady. Breathe, he said. Let it pass through you.

It did. Slowly. The arc dissipated into her body and out through her grounded stance.
Caltin smiled faintly. Again.

As the lesson went on, the orbs’ pulses increased. The energy they emitted wasn’t destructive—it was pure potential, guided by the Force and tied to the Circle’s nexus. Each student—youngling, Knight, or Master—will eventually take their turn. Some would succeed quickly. Others would need time. And Caltin would never rush a single one. There were more than enough orbs for each student here, and even a couple of the overseers, Masters and Knights here with their Padawans, or just wanting to offer help and a demonstration of their own.

When a Nautolan Padawan panicked, he placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and knelt beside him. You’re not failing, Caltin said softly. You’re learning what you’re still holding on to. This takes time… it took me two days to get to this point.

From the edge of the circle, Connel watched quietly.


He didn’t speak. Didn’t interrupt.


But he took it in.


The way his father’s presence didn’t dominate the space—it anchored it. The way he taught with silence as much as words. The way he allowed vulnerability without judgment.
Caltin didn’t just teach Tutaminis.


In many ways, he embodied it.

Walking over to him as they watched the many practice... The two men stood in silence for a long moment, father and son.
You didn’t teach that like a soldier, Connel said at last.

Caltin gave a small smile. “I stopped being a soldier the day this place became more than a house.

Connel nodded slowly. I’ll protect it, he said. You won’t have to stand alone anymore.

Caltin placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. His voice was low, but certain. You never let me.

Nathan Bloodscrawl • Mak Ondor • Azurine Varek • Emery Lloren • Kas Larsen •
[Text in Brackets is spoken on Comm-link] ~Like this is through the Force~​

 

[Kas Larsen]

​

Equipment: Jedi Jumpsuit | Utility Belt
Tags: Caltin Vanagor | OPEN
Mentions: Connel Vanagor
Location: Alderaan | Shadow Sanctuary | Open Stone Circle
Objective: Learn Tutaminis

A ship flew from Deep Core Regions of space as it landed in a nearby Docking Bay. Three young Jedi emerged together as the ship's engines and thrusters powered down. Went from loud thunders roaring down to low hums then silence fell. Dressed in custom Jedi Jumpsuits the trio travelled to the Shadow Sanctuary after receiving the call to gather here in not only learning about Tutaminis as an ability but understand how one wields it, where, when and why.

They followed the others that had been called upon to come to the Open Stone Circle to meet with Jedi Master Caltin Vanagor to listen and see what was in store. Caden, the youngest of the Larsens was an aspiring Jedi Consular, a Sage of sorts, accompanied by his older twin siblings - Kas becoming a Jedi Sentinel, only a very few knew his specialisations in the Sentinel field aside from an Investigator. Lastly, there was Seri seeking to become a Jedi Guardian.

They arrived. Made their approach to listen and witness what the Jedi Master had to offer. Anything peculiar in acquiring new knowledge and skills was always worth the effort and time. Caden, Kas and Seri watched other Jedi walk towards the Crystal Orbs letting energy flow through their bodies. Some unaffected and some endured a few hardships to perform the feat successfully.

Nerves rose within Caden unsure about the way this would go down Seri felt her brother's feelings and thoughts about this lesson. Seeing some be successful and others unsuccessful

However Kas went to step up first - he didn't let concern, doubt or fear consume his mind. He believed in himself and didn't force matters either.

Kas stood with Caltin Vanagor and Connel Vanagor before the Crystal Orbs and the Stone Circle.

"Masters. I'm Kas Larsen. Padawan Learner. Here to participate if it is no trouble." Kas said.

There was tension detected within Kas' senses all when he was stepping up to follow suit of what other Padawan Learners, Knights and Masters had been doing while here. He was ready to be guided by Caltin and Connel one or other will be appreciated by Kas as he tends to participating here.

The late teenaged Padawan Learner controlled his breathing and relaxed his body, clearing his mind with each breath inhaled and exhaled. Waiting for instruction like any student.

 

[Kell Masaara]

The Jedi would never cease to amaze Kell. It felt strange, still, to consider herself one now, even squarely equipped and accepted amongst their number, here in a slate gray jumpsuit secured from her quarters on Tython. She watches Master Vanagor's explanation with intent, listens like ever word is a fine pearl to catch - to survive without fighting is all her first master tought her, and as far as she was concerned, this was just another angle to the puzzle, like a facet on a gemstone, each a unique challenge all its own to be treasured.

Kell stepped forward into the circle to face the orb. She had a wealth of experience in covering herself with the Force, to hide her, to make her small and unnoticed - maybe this could be like that? Maybe what it feels like is... turning the energy somewhere else. She takes a deep breath to center herself, the salt air unique and refreshing. Astonished as she was by the abundance of fresh, clean water on Tython just... laying around on the ground, the ocean was a whole other beast, majestic, a little intimidating, but humbling. She held on to that latter feeling- ZAP. "Ow?"

It wasn't an ow of pain, not really, more surprise, when no other exclamation is really appropriate. Like when you stub your toe, but it's your big toe and the karking thing you hit isn't really that hard, but you EXPECT stubbing it to hurt. That kind of ow. She blinks her eyes a few times, acclimating to the sensation, before trying again. Maybe a different shape. Let it pass through you? What kind of thing would do? A lightning rod, maybe, she saw the energy was grounded earlier. ZAP. Oof, okay.

How about being like a cup? If it's meant to absorb energy, that makes sense it ought to have somewhere to go before it was released. ZAP. A donut. Those have holes to go through. ZAP. Ah, boy. She'll get it! She's dogged! Can't nothin' escape Kell Masaara when she fixes to learn- ZAP.

She frowns, brow furrowed and drumming fingertips on her chin, as she reconsiders her approach. Let it pass through you, hold the fire, but not to be burned, but to let it go. An exercise in trust. Maybe she's thinking of this too much like shielding herself, protecting in an active sense - that's not very flowy, is it? Trusting the Force and calling on that connection for a specific task are different. Trust is scary, and she's been burned by it plenty. How did the Spice Wars quote go? Fear is the mind-killer. Face your fear, let it pass through you, and when you turn the inner eye to mark its path, there will be nothing, and only you will remain.

Something like that, anyway, she only saw the bootleg holomovie, but it was an idea, all the same.

Taking another deep breath, she recenters herself to try again, calling on the Force and asking for nothing but a friend. It's hard to let go, hard to trust, when yours has been so abused, but for a moment? Kell feels it, or the absense of it, maybe, the path where fear, or at least where this training energy thing, can and will - has gone - go.

Has gone? Kell's eyes flash open to catch the very end of the arc passing into the ground harmlessly. No flinch, no not-pain-exclamation. She breathes fast, eyes wide with surprise and elation, looking between the orb and where the energy left her view.

We are SO BACK, gang. Knew you'd pick up quick, kid, always do. Ol' Master Yoda was on to something when his holoprojection called the Force a powerful friend. ZAP.

Ow.

 

[Klar]

​

ALDERAAN​

Shadow Sanctuary​

Harrowing, to think that she'd come all this way to Alderaan just to stumble and mess up at Master Caltin Vanagor 's brand new training facility. The explanation and display of Tutaminis' potential was beyond impressive, downright humbling - but Klar felt that same sense of awe whenever she saw a Master working their craft. Felt that same soft despair, as she struggled to understand the lofty concepts they espoused. The frustration when she, to her understanding, did everything right and still came up short.

In her usual fashion, Klar had spent the ride from Tython studying Tutaminis and why it was so important. She likely could have rattled off a dozen masters in the history of the order who'd developed or furthered the use of the art, including Master Vanagor. All of the theory, all of the knowledge she could drink up. When her name was called, the blonde Codru-Ji swallowed her doubts and forced herself to relax. While focusing. Call on the force, but let it happen to her. It was everything and everywhere, including in her, but not in a way she could bring to bear usefully.

Her hair tied up and out of the way, Klar stepped into the circle faced down the orbs like a woman going to war. She steadied her stance and tried to visualize the force flowing through her and dissipating the flames as she felt the heat prickling on her skin. The heat grew, going nowhere - Klar's control was too clumsy, too poor to wield effectively. Doubt at her own abilities and embarrassment only made it worse. Before long, the young blonde was simply standing her ground and doggedly enduring the fire for as long as possible, until her stamina or courage yielded and she stumbled out of the circle with a yelp.

Shame backing off of her in thick waves, Klar rejoined the rest of the Padawans to meditate, center herself, and prepare to try again later.

 

[Rikuan]

✦ RIKUAN ✦
“Ride the wind, dodge the rules.”​

LOCATION: Alderaan - Shadow Sanctuary
OUTFIT: Tribal Jedi Robes
TAGS: Caltin Vanagor | Kas Larsen | Kell Masaara | Klar

The moment Master Caltin gave the cue, Rikuan bounded into the circle with an eager hop and a casual salute. "Alright, alright, I'm goin', I'm goin'." he chuckled, his tail lazily curling behind him as he stepped forward.

He gave the crackling orb a look, half-curious, half-challenging. He held out his hand, recalling Master Caltin's words.

For a second, nothing happened. Then the heat hit, sharp and sudden, like a sunbeam through jungle canopy at noon. Rikuan's brow furrowed. His fingers twitched. He tried to center himself, remembered the grounding breaths they taught back at the temple. But the tension came anyway, fast and unrelenting. His muscles tightened, the pressure building in his chest like a stormfront rolling in.

He pulled his hand back with a wince and a quiet, "Yeah, nope."

The orb snapped back into place like it hadn't just rejected him, and Rikuan stepped out of the circle, flexing his fingers and blowing a short puff of air across his palm.

"Welp, standing still is overrated anyway." he said lightly, tail flicking in amusement.

He didn't look shaken. If anything, he looked thoughtful… and maybe a little amused. He settled back down on the outer edge of the circle with a shrug and a smile, glancing at the others as if to say your turn.

"Guess I'll just have to make friends with fire later." he added under his breath, leaning back on his hands, relaxed.

No frustration. No shame. Just another ripple in the stream. Rikuan was more at home with the physical side of Jedi training, all this sitting still? Breathing techniques? Patience? Boring.
​

 

[Aris Noble]

Was it a skill he could use?

From what Aris understood of himself and what he understood of the Force, it was an internalized ability to take energy and empower with it. He could affect his body, and only his own body, so did that mean it extended towards that level? It was why he was here today, watching Master Vanagor and listening rather intently.

When it was finally his turn and he approached to touch the orb, sure enough, nothing happened. He felt no rush of energy, no current to tap into. He took a breath before pulling his hand back to idly flex his fingers. It was something he'd have to think on to solve, it seemed.

 

[Tilon Quill]

You will feel discomfort. Tension. Resistance. You may even feel afraid. That’s normal. It’s the fire knocking on your skin. A pause.

But remember this—you are not the flame, nor the fear. You are the vessel. What you choose to do with the fire... is what defines you.

The first Knight one from the “Temple of the Elements” on Atollon, stepped forward. The orbs flared briefly. A faint pulse of raw energy arced toward her chest.

The energy they emitted wasn’t destructive—it was pure potential, guided by the Force and tied to the Circle’s nexus.

There were more than enough orbs for each student here, and even a couple of the overseers, Masters and Knights here with their Padawans, or just wanting to offer help and a demonstration of their own.

Why the fear? Tilon didn't have an answer. Why this apprehension to try his hand at something safe enough for younglings? He'd done similar exercises as a Padawan with candle flames and worse, and there was no danger here. He'd traveled farther than any Jedi ever had, maybe farther than any ever would; he'd survived the guts of a sarlacc and the wrath of Ashlan cultists. So why the fear?

He moved to take his turn in the gentle circle of light regardless of the lack of answer, because it was his turn and because he wasn't in the habit of taking counsel from his fear. That didn't mean ignoring it; he still wanted an answer from himself. But first things first.

An orb glowed and a streamer of warm energy connected with his chest. He flinched and felt the warmth grow hot; after a long moment he relaxed and centered himself enough to visualize the energy grounding itself through his feet, draining away into the earth of Alderaan.

Once the exercise ended, and after he moved back to let someone else take a turn, only then did he get some insight on his problem. He'd been afraid to fail not because the task was innately challenging, but because he felt out of place among Jedi orders; he'd feared to fail in front of all these people and all they represented. Which probably meant he cared more about their recognition and acceptance than he'd thought he had.

Unsettled, he turned his attention to the warmth of the sun and tried for a little supplemental practice, envisioning that energy passing through him to the earth.

 

[Everest Vale]

Outfit: Robes
Equipment: Lightsaber, Bracelet, Earrings, Seer Stone, Wayfinder's Flare, Engagement Ring

Eve stood among the Jedi gathered beneath the trees. The mist clung to her hair, silver strands catching faint green reflections from the brazier’s flame.

Master Vanagor’s words lingered inside her: Trust. Surrender. Be the vessel. The principles of it felt familiar to her already. Ever since Ilum, such things seemed to come infinitely easier. When he called her forward, she stepped into the circle, the white-veined stone cool beneath her boots. She inclined her head to the Master, a silent greeting, before closing her eye.

She drew a slow breath. Let it slip out again.

A low hum rose as the orb glided closer, the air around it shimmering. She felt it before it touched her, heat building like the moment before a storm breaks. It crawled across her skin, sharp as glass, trying to find a way inside.

Fear would have been easy. But Eve had learned stillness, how to slip beneath the surface of her own breath.

I am the vessel.

The energy pushed at her chest. She opened to it.

It passed through her like light through water, crackling and sweet, leaving a faint ache in her ribs. A sound caught in her throat. Not pain, but merely the surprise of the moment. She let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

When she opened her eyes, there was a quiet shine behind them, as she realised she had done it. She dipped her chin to Master Vanagor.

"Thank you, Master."

She stepped back from the circle, a small, private pride warming her chest, though she said nothing more.

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Deflection

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

He hadn’t come to be called upon.

He had only meant to observe. But that never seemed to matter when the Force had made up its mind.

Aadihr Lidos stood at the edge of the circle, White hair framed his face beneath a sandy blindfold. The moment Caltin’s voice echoed the word again, the orb nearest Aadihr flickered—inviting him.

Of course. Had to be me.

He let out a breath, stepped forward, and bowed his head briefly to the elder Vanagor. "Permission, Master. I’ll try."

The orb pulsed to life before he’d even reached the center. A flicker of energy was the only warning before the sharp arc of energy leapt toward his chest – and curved away violently. Moreso than it had been sent?

The bolt slammed into the ground beside him, leaving a blackened mark in the stone. That wasn't exactly what he was supposed to do. He needed to find peace, let the energy pass through, redirect it, let it go. Another came, instinct took over. Deflected, too close to another student.

Aadihr didn’t flinch... but neither did he flow.

His body tensed, and the space around him began to buzz as if charged with ozone. The energy didn’t pass through him. It had caught and bounced, as it always had for him, turning the fire back outward with instinct. A shield by years of imperfect honing. Deflection was only one aspect of Tutaminis, but it was the one that Aadihr could best control.

Let it pass through. That’s what Caltin said. But I can’t. I never could. If I let go, I lose the shape. I lose the balance.

Aadihr wrapped a layer around himself - to deflect inward, to prevent a stray arc from harming anyone else, with a gap for his chest. The arc came. Redirected away, then deflected back towards him, ping-ponging with a continuous power draw that pulled more energy from the orb like yarn from a ball as the arc could not find closure, rapidly vibrating and outlining the Miraluka.

The orb didn’t relent. The charge continued, now caught in a loop—each pulse striking, being caught, redirected, but never released. Lightning-like energy spun around him in a tight cage, feeding itself with every beat. Aadihr’s hands began to tremble. He couldn't safely dissipate this – not without causing harm.

The safety mechanism clicked, and the orb powered down – but the energy had no escape.

The electricity clawed at the air around him, snapping louder, rebounding against his own defenses.

I can’t let it touch them. I won’t. I won’t let it lash out. Condense it. Reshape it.

Slowly, his hands came together. The bolts curled inward gliding along the surface of the invisible planes of deflection like water dripping unnaturally a singular sphere. A ball of energy, Unstable, flickering, screaming with staric for release. A crackling miniature sun hovered in his grip, like lightning looping inside itself, pressurized with what Aadihr could control.

Sweat beaded on his brow. His blindfold fluttered from the fluctuations of expanding heated air.
Aadihr had to solve this with what he could control. He may have failed the basic test, but he always had a workaround. He would find one here.
He inhaled.

The Force traced through the air, finer than a thread, reorganizing the atmosphere molecule by molecule. Zooming his eyeless sight, plucking electrons en mass from the air with the Force to form positive-charged path. A safe one, like an invisible lightning mast. Like wetting a window to guide drops of rain.

The moment it was done, Aadihr exhaled.

The orb discharged in a brilliant blue-white thunderclap, a mini arc-flash tearing toward the ground in a controlled, focused bolt. It struck where it was meant to—and nowhere else.

Silence followed.

He slowly brought his hands to his sides, retrieved his walking stick. It was not a success, but it was both a problem and a solution of his own making. Much like his spirit, it was a balance of extremes.

Aadihr couldnt help but laugh at the absurdity of it, but accepted his lot in the very same moment.

Why should anything change now?

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite

As everyone took their turn, Zaiya was doing her best to center herself and look inward. Domxite was not hanging by her shoulder, but that was on purpose. They were on the sidelines, still cheering, but the Lovalla had to start working on being able to use the Force and expand her senses and abilities on her own merits. Domxite helped in getting her focus and keeping her calm, but if she was to ever become a Knight, if she was ever to do her best to keep Aris and others safe, she had to learn to do things on her own.

Especially in a combat situation.

Zaiya had seen Aris use tutaminis to block lightsaber strikes, and the Lovalla wanted to learn how to do that on her own. While Aris could perhaps fine-tune things on the matter, it was also good to get instructions from others to practice.

When her turn finally came, Zaiya stood at the edge of the glowing ring, her opal blue eyes relaxing in focus. The flames crackled nearby, heat licking at her cheeks as she slowly stepped forward, hands raised just like Master Vanagor had shown. Her rosy golden skin shimmered a subtle ripple in orchre and orange tones, a little nervous, but still determined to make this work.

After a second, she drew a slow breath and held it, before she let it go in a small whoosh.

Trust. Surrender. Stand still.

The warmth built fast. Too fast. Her hands trembled slightly, but she held them steady, fingers spread. Ever so slowly, she breathed the Force in, drawing in those threads and letting it seep over her. She thought of what Aris had told her about channeling it, not resisting, but flowing with it.

"I am not the flame," she whispered to herself, feeling the first flicker of fire pulse against her palms. Her stripes brightened with a soft bronze glow. "I'm the vessel."

It was hot, perhaps too hot, but for now, she held and did her best not to break her focus.

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

ZAP! Vorr'kath Zhen.

ZAP! Vorr'kath Zhen.

ZAP! Vorr'kath Zhen.

Xuko could feel his frustration rising with every orb that impacted his body; less bothered by the others by the heat, but moreso by his failure. The mantra he repeated to himself did nothing to change the outcome. Flame? Fear? Vessel? He felt like a fool, standing there and letting the flame hit him- as if it was supposed to pass through!

ZAP! Zhaqex

At the heart of the issue was that Xuko did not fully understand what Master Vanagor was trying to teach them, or how to apply it properly. The Zabrak's tendency was to reach out towards the incoming projectile and try to force it to change directions. As it was, he'd had just enough minor successes in that area to continue to attempt a very different technique than the one that was being taught.

ZAP! "Zhaqexik!" This time, Xuko could not contain his anger, exiting the circle with a particularly emphatic Iridonian curse. He took a few breaths to calm himself, both frustrated at his performance and at losing his temper. After patting out a few smoldering patches on his clothes, the Zabrak made his way over towards Caltin Vanagor , trying to ignore the smell of singed fabric that he knew emanated from his robes.

"I do not know what I am doing wrong, Master" he said, his frustration still present but also clearly directed towards himself. "I thought myself more capable than this."

 

[Nathan Bloodscrawl]

Wearing: Jedi Jumpsuit (Black)

Armed With: Nathan's Training Lightsaber

Equipment: Stealth field generator, Anti-Security Blade


Earlier, Coruscant...


Nathan watched through the rangefinder on top of a roof in The Underworks. He had been watching it for days, sensing the Dark Side. His sister, Melissa Bloodscrawl , was on the roof with him, watching the windows of the three story compound through the scope of her suppressed KV-33 Pulse Cycler.

"So, Nate..." Melissa trailed, her artificial muscles never tiring, allowing her to remain perfectly still without tiring, as she lay prone, wearing a skintight urban camouflage catsuit.

"Yes, Sister?" Nathan asked.

"You really think the Sith will try to hit Coruscant?"

"You fethin' bet..." Nathan said. "All our Intel says it. They want this place bad. They always have."

"Do you think we can hold them off this time?" Melissa asked.

"Dunno." He answered honestly. "I never bother asking the Force for answers to questions like that anymore. It tells the truth when it feels like it, and lies with about the same frequency on such issues... either way, we're all playing it's damned tune. Even the Sith, though they'll never admit it. Either way, asset transfer is in progress. If they do take the core...it won't damage too much of our assets."

"Heads up, Brother... activity at the front gate..." Melissa said, spotting a small shuttle landing on the compounds roof.

Nathan watched as a hooded figure emerged from the shuttle. His instincts flared up.

"This stinks...I'm going in. Keep a watch..." Nathan said, climbing down the escape ladder and activating his stealth belt, journeying to the compound silently across dirty streets, slowly as to not break the field up.

He used the Anti-Security blade to interfere with the alarm systems and sliced open the security panel, opening the door.

He crept in very silently, observing personnel in clothing with adhoc armor unloading crates.

He got a closer look.

Weapons. Grenades. He needed more.

Nathan crept past the people who looked like hoodlums. He needed to find that man in the hood.


He made his way up to the third level, barely getting past a few patrols. He saw gang symbols everywhere. Someone was organizing the locals.

He spotted two guards standing outside what looked to be a meeting room open and he went still in a more shadowed section of the wall as the hooded man and what looked like a gang leader walked out.

"And you're sure the Empire will honor its debt to us for harassing defense forces?" The Gang leader, a lanky Chiss male of about forty years of age.

"The Empire always rewards loyalty..." The hooded man answered. "See to your task and do not fail us..."

But not stupidity... Nathan thought to himself.

Or failure...

Nathan prioritized the man in the hood and began following him while the Gang Leader departed to see to other affairs. He would be patient. He would wait until he was ready to leave before striking. The others would be easy pickings. Either for him or his sister.

He moved as quietly as possible also relying on ambient noise to mask already quiet foot steps, watched the man head up steps to the landing pad.

Nathan pulled out his hilt as they reached the landing pad. The hooded man went still, slowly removing his own dark alloy hilt.

"You're good at concealing yourself...but not like a real Shadow." The hooded Sith hissed.

Nathan decloaked, blue blade going active. He still concealed his presence.

"Drop it. Right now. One chance only." Nathan warned.

"You are not in charge here, Jedi. You will not stop what is to come for this world." The hooded man sneered.

"Your one chance has expired." Nathan replied.

"I need no chances from a pitiful Jedi..." The Hooded Sith replied, red blade flashing on.

The Hooded Man tried to move...and Nathan restrained him with telekinesis. The Sith's burst of enraged surprise allowed him to start powering through it, so Nathan ripped some of the hull off the shuttle and slammed it into the Sith at the speed of a moving vehicle, stunning him before Nathan brutally used telekinesis to slam the Sith has hard as he could into his own shuttle, face-first, and then Force pulled that face with a now bleeding, bloody nose into his waiting boot, sending him hurling back, heavily concussed.

A warning in the Force made him turn around, use coalesced, invisible Force Energy in his palm to deflect fired blaster shots from upset gang members black into their knees and arms. Melissa fired from her roof, nailing some of them with stun shots. He had wanted everyone taken alive. Dead bodies made for unpleasant questions Nathan didn't like answering.

A roar of unbridled hatred, made him dodge the red saber swinging for his head as the humiliated Sith attacked him in a flurry of Djem So attacks. Nathan parried and blocked in the Soresu Style, until he spotted the Sith over extending himself and ducked, slamming his cybernetic fist hard into his opponent's diaphragm.

The Sith doubled over, choking, struggling to breathe as he dropped his saber.

Nathan snapped his fingers and Melissa shot the Sith in the head with a stun bolt, knocking him out cold.

"I may not be able to stop what's coming for this world...but I can certainly stop you..." Nathan said to the unconscious Sith, voice dripping contempt. (Fallen Order reference #64454499: 7000 XP)

Nathan pulled out his comlink.

"Melissa, I'm securing this Sith and taking him to the temple. Hunt the others down. I sense them fleeing. And remember...no deaths."

"You got it, Nate..." Melissa replied...

Nathan than telekinetically wrapped the Sith in hull metal and dragged him aboard the shuttle, taking his hilt, green lightning of the light side coursing through the enemy hilt, burning the dark side out of the synthetic crystal. When he flashed it on, a yellow blade was in place of the red one it had been previously.

Nathan shut it off, claiming the confiscated weapon and clipping it to his belt.

The shuttle lifted off soon after.


Present...


Nathan had received the summons to the shadow sanctuary and decided to head there, still thinking about the smuggling operation he had helped bust up days before. They were still interrogating that captured Sith.

Nathan still had the brand new haircut and trimmed beard thanks to the horrors Braze had unleashed in that Salon. Nathan normally clipped his hair in such a way only to go in disguise. People remarked that he somehow looked completely different...

Nathan acknowledged Caltin Vanagor with a simple nod. He listened patiently to the Master's opening remarks.

He had some minor skill with Tutaminus...but he didn't normally like to employ it, not liking to take that kind of risk with energy. It was one thing to simply deflect a blaster bolt with his hand. It was another matter entirely to try and absorb it. That carried more risk. Way more.

His presence in the Force had steadily been growing stronger as time passed. He turned more heads now. More than he liked.

When his turn came. He stood in the circle with his usual grim, humorless expression, holding out his organic arm to try and absorb the energy from the green orb.

It fired a stream of green energy and Nathan almost winced, removing his hand at the zap from its previous space. He focused again, showing no sign of frustration or discomfort.

The second zap was stronger, and Nathan felt a deep welt form on his palm, but otherwise did not react.

The fourth and fifth tries, the zap only got stronger. Nathan finally flinched...slightly...at the sixth. Only on the seventh did he finally succeed, but barely...

Nathan stared at Caltin.

"Do you have any suggestions, Master Vanagor?" Nathan asked, stepping out of the circle finally...

Kas Larsen

Kell Masaara

Klar

Rikuan

Aris Noble

Tilon Quill

Everest Vale

Aadihr Lidos

Zaiya Ceti

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

Tutaminis
Shadow Sanctuary
Alderaan

The circle was thinning out now. Jedi were quietly dispersing along the coastal paths and practice areas, their minds full of sensation, lessons, and questions. A few younglings lingered near the tree line, whispering about the glowing orbs, all were participatingin areas they felt most comfortableto do so. Each equipped with their own personal orb. Aris Noble looked like he was planning something, probably a prank on Vera Noble , who knows. Some Knights gathered in discussion about the training and the resonance matrix embedded in the stone floor.

Caltin had stepped aside, standing quietly near the brazier again, a damp cloth in hand as he wiped sweat from his temple. He wasn’t tired—but he was present. Grounded.
Then came the sharp clatter of boots—not fear, not rage—but frustration… and cursing…

A young Zabrak Padawan, horns still short, face marked in symmetrical charcoal lines of heritage and effort, stood near the edge of the circle, fists clenched. He had taken his turn—twice—and both times the energy pulse had knocked him backward. The sting was still on his chest. His pride even more so.

Caltin turned, slowly. He said nothing—just walked.

Caltin didn’t lecture. He didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he opened his left hand and turned it palm-up. There, scorched across the center of his calloused palm, was a deep burn scar—pale and rough, still tinged with the memory of plasma. Then he held his hand high, for all to see, as if getting everyone’s attention.
This? he said, voice steady. This originally came from gripping my own lightsaber blade mid-channel. Not to show off. Not to inspire fear, but because someone I cared about was about to die, and I didn’t have time to think.

He looked the Zabrak in the eye, but spoke to everyone.

It took me twenty-two years of failure, doubt, and discipline to learn to do that. You’re fifteen? Sixteen? You’ve had barely a handful of tries. You didn’t fail. You started.

There were a few Padawans who looked down, shame cooling into understanding. Many of them nodded, some just shuffled their feet. This is not a simple skill, it takes focus, it takes commitment, but it also takes something else. Whatever that something else is, is something that you need to find within you, it’s different for everyone.

Then he lowered his voice to speak only to the Padawan in front of him. This is not something to be conquered, or championed, it needs to be understood. The Force is always calling you, it is right now, this very skill. You already have the ability within you. You’re learning how to understand what the Force is telling you in how to use it. You can’t do that if you’re trying to push yourself through like it is some kind of workout.

Another voice stepped out from the edge of the circle.

Nathan Bloodscrawl, tall, dark-robed, a battle-worn Padawan that SHOULD ALREADY BE A Knight (at least in his opinuin) whom he had last seen on Coruscant when they were searching some odd lair, an interesting adventure, but it’s been awhile. His hair was shorter now, jaw more scarred, but the eyes were the same—curious and firm.

Been a long time, Nathan. Caltin said, offering a respectful bow of his head. Too long.

Caltin looked at him, quiet for a moment. Then handed Nathan one of the still-warm orbs. Start small, he said. Feel the energy—not to take it—but to greet it. It’s not a weapon. It’s a conversation.

Caltin turned now—stepping back into the center of the circle. He raised a hand—not in command, but in invitation. Many of the gathered Jedi—those still on the walkways, in the trees, on the stone steps—turned. Quiet spread. A few younglings ran to sit cross-legged near the edge. The murmurs stopped. Padawans who were watching him, their eyes wide with awe. He could see the determination in their faces, the spark of inspiration that he had ignited. They would remember this moment, and perhaps, one day, they too would achieve greatness.

Even Connel, still leaning against the far pillar, lifted his head and listened. Caltin looked around—at warriors, learners, survivors.

Then he asked: What is the first thing you must do when learning something new? He didn’t let the silence be broken in.

Clear your mind. His voice carried, low and sure.
Not to empty it. Not to suppress fear or doubt. But to make space. You cannot receive truth if your thoughts are louder than the Force.

He raised his left hand again, burn scar still visible. As I mentioned moments ago, what you saw me do today was not instinct. It wasn’t bravery. It was years of failure. Years of doubt. Decades of letting the fire hurt me... until it didn’t.

There is no shortcut to mastery. There is no trick to control. Tutaminis is not about strength. It is about trust. You must trust that you are enough. That the Force will meet you halfway. He paced slowly now, eyes locked on each face in turn.

You’re not here to impress anyone. Not me. Not each other. Not yourself. You’re here to learn. That means falling. That means struggling. That means... being willing to hold pain—and not break. Unlike a certain Master who, when first learning this, had to go to the healing wing and stay there for overnight, only to end up sitting in a bacta tank for eight hours…
He stopped in the center. Hands open. Voice quiet.

Clear your mind. Trust the Force. Then—take the fire. Not to destroy. Not to dominate. But to remind it... that you are still here.

No applause. No fanfare. Just silence. And in that silence—respect. A breath held by every soul present, was it for what they were learning or for him? Didn’t matter.

Then, one by one, many of them bowed. Not out of tradition. Not out of duty, but because they understood something now that they hadn’t before. Caltin stepped back, exhaled, and looked toward Connel. His son hadn’t moved, but he was smiling now—just a little, and this time, it wasn’t the warrior in him who was proud.

It was the son.

I thought you were “Big Grumpy”?

Huh?

”Big Grumpy”, or whatever Ala Quin calls you.

He was teasing, and Caltin knew it, though he grinned, he just scoffed and shook his head.

Nathan Bloodscrawl • Mak Ondor • Azurine Varek • Emery Lloren • Kas Larsen • Everest Vale • @Kel Masaara • Klar • Rikuan • Aris Noble • Tilon Quill • Aadihr Lidos • Zaiya Ceti • Xuko Pagoi • Nathan Bloodscrawl
[Text in Brackets is spoken on Comm-link] ~Like this is through the Force~​

 

[Azurine Varek]

Self Understanding

Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman | Purple Bracelet
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 [x] | Lightsaber 2 [x] | Hook Swords

Tutaminis. It wasn't a concept that Azzie was unfamiliar with. Before she'd been frozen in time for centuries, she had seen aspects of it used in practice by the man who had once been her master. It had been one of the skills that he had been rather proficient in—being able to stand in the line of blaster fire with hands raised, and bolts that touched his skin seemed to dissipate as if the energy from them just disintegrated. It had been one of the many things about him that had left her staring in awe, even if he could only keep such power going in much shorter bursts when they had to be face-to-face with whole battalions of stormtroopers all firing at once from multiple angles.

More recently, it was Aadihr Lidos who she'd seen a separate aspect of the skill in a level of proficiency. Very specifically in his intense mastery of deflection to the point that he was somehow able to deflect even the kinetic energy of blunt strikes. Two very different applications of the skill, both putting her in a position of wonder. What Master Caltin seemed to be demonstrating seemed more like the former than the latter.

She stood at the edge, watching, waiting. What she was waiting for, she wasn't necessarily sure yet. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't actually been able to successfully accomplish what was being asked here before that kept her as a passive observer. Not in many attempts. Instead of learning to dissipate or disperse energy in those attempts in the downtime between rebellion missions, she'd learned how to create shields. Useful and understandable for someone whose mind constantly thought in ways of problem-solving using what was available and improvising everything else, but not necessarily what was supposed to be learned.

So, Azzie observed quietly, watching how others approached the situation as well as how they went about coming to a solution. Not every approach was the same, many different souls with many different experiences shaping those approaches. She watched the way their aura patterns shifted, how their emotions changed as they thought through new attempts. Sometimes, the best way to learn wasn't solely through action but in understanding just how many ways could come to the same outcome.

Then, she thought about how she generally approached problems of this manner in comparison and came to the quick conclusion—head-on, that was how. Her species could handle so much more physically than others before it gave out or felt much pain, and as such Azzie tended to treat her body like a living armor plate in order to make her offense into her defense. While that worked in many situations, it wasn't sustainable in all of them. A slow realization in her all too silent pondering: It wasn't that she was unable. She was attempting to deep dive like a fish with the wings of a bird, to move a mountain using the tools and approach of rivers.

You understand. You can; now go do. The feeling called at the back of her mind like the proud embrace of a familiar presence. Azzie took a long, deep breath and clasped her hands above her, then moved them outward with the release of air as she stepped into the circle. Instead of focusing on the flow like she had in many previous private attempts, she shifted to a focus on anchoring. Become an immovable conduit for its containment.

When the pulse came, rather than pass through her completely like it had with others, it dispersed through her body to become part of the kindling for her own rising fire within. It was far from perfect, the feeling of a dull prickle still nipping a bit at her fingertips, but she hadn't expected perfection. Only a foundation, and that was all she needed to build upon it further.

Caltin Vanagor | @ Everyone Else (There is a lot of you, sorry)​

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Caltin didn’t lecture. He didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he opened his left hand and turned it palm-up. There, scorched across the center of his calloused palm, was a deep burn scar—pale and rough, still tinged with the memory of plasma. Then he held his hand high, for all to see, as if getting everyone’s attention.
This? he said, voice steady. This originally came from gripping my own lightsaber blade mid-channel. Not to show off. Not to inspire fear, but because someone I cared about was about to die, and I didn’t have time to think.

He looked the Zabrak in the eye, but spoke to everyone.

It took me twenty-two years of failure, doubt, and discipline to learn to do that. You’re fifteen? Sixteen? You’ve had barely a handful of tries. You didn’t fail. You started.

There were a few Padawans who looked down, shame cooling into understanding. Many of them nodded, some just shuffled their feet. This is not a simple skill, it takes focus, it takes commitment, but it also takes something else. Whatever that something else is, is something that you need to find within you, it’s different for everyone.

Then he lowered his voice to speak only to the Padawan in front of him. This is not something to be conquered, or championed, it needs to be understood. The Force is always calling you, it is right now, this very skill. You already have the ability within you. You’re learning how to understand what the Force is telling you in how to use it. You can’t do that if you’re trying to push yourself through like it is some kind of workout.

Scars were something that Xuko could understand. Scars were how lessons were learned on Iridonia. What followed made little sense to him, however.

Xuko did his best to listen, biting back the desire to correct the Jedi Master on his age. It wouldn't change the lecture, or Caltin's point; he had been practicing this skill longer than Xuko had been alive. But the more Caltin spoke, the less Xuko understood; though at no fault to the Jedi Master. Apparently there was more to this skill than simple repetition; it also required something yet-undetermined inside of him; something that was not revealing itself to him through his failed attempts despite apparently already being there.

Something that could have been explored and settled into before stepping into the circle in the first place.

Xuko bowed stiffly in the direction of Caltin and returned to just outside his circle, feeling very much like the pod had been placed before the engines with this lesson. It was a bit like being thrown into the deep end of a pool, having only just been introduced to the concept of water, and being expected to swim.

Xuko's mind wandered back to many years ago when he and his family had happened upon a pair of small pools of water. With one designated for drinking, Xuko's father had determined that his son needed to learn to swim; hardly a necessary skill on an arid climate, but very much a core memory nonetheless. And Xuko could certainly relate now to his younger self- to the sensation of being tossed into the pool with nothing but a "Varr'shak'Ka!"

He remembered the slight abrasiveness on his skin from the mildly-acidic water, the panic he'd felt while thrashing about underneath the surface, and how the less he struggled against the gentle tug of buoyancy, the more progress he made in the direction he ultimately wanted to go.

Direction.

The thought struck Xuko like a thunderbolt, blasting him back to the present and entwining with Master Caltin's words. Like the bubbles that had escaped his mouth under the water, that were free to move in the direction they needed to only when he let them go, Xuko wondered if the same could be applied to the fire. Still steaming slightly from his earlier failures, Xuko stepped back into the circle.

ZAP!

Muttering a curse under his breath that he'd heard Azurine Varek use once, Xuko spotted his fellow Iridonian not too far away- and having more success than him, by the looks of things. Despite their shared home planet, Xuko hadn't had many opportunities to connect with her. Perhaps she, who was further along in her journey of being a Jedi, could help translate this lesson into something he could work with.

Xuko tried not to pace outside Azzie's circle, waiting until a breaking point to get her attention. "I wish to know what is working for you" he said, "since there is value in Master Caltin's words that I do not yet understand."

 

[Kell Masaara]

"Hey, this seat taken?" Kell approaches Klar , looking distinctly more damp than she did at the start, flushed, with stray hairs stuck across her forehead with sweat for the effort. After her initial success, Kell was only able to accomplish the feat once more, and wanted to give someone else a shot while she cooled off - literally, too. Letting go and being a vessel and all that was hard work, being zapped. She could only imagine the strain Master Vanagor went through doing this with a lightsaber, and quietly also hopes she never has to use it that way.

Strictly speaking, it's not a seating arrangement to pick from, just a spot on the ground, so there isn't much to take. She knew Klar from around the temple but hadn't really spoken to her fellow padawan at length. She seemed nice enough, and both of them being tapped out for a breather seemed as good a time as any to take a stab at a little socializing. "Having trouble? Wanna talk about it?"