Ary the Grey

"Initiating cascade failure." The soothing bass of the Saladin's AI had a slight tone of fear to it, though it would have been impossible for a human to detect. The Wolf Spider was practically gutting itself in order to save Aryian, and while Aryian couldn't know the AI's thoughts, the sentiment was not lost on him. The craft lurched into realspace after several loud bangs, signifying blown power conduits. The first thing Aryian noticed was that they were very close to a planet. That was amazingly good luck, or perhaps just the will of the Force. The second thing Aryian noticed, immediately after the first, was that they were very close to a planet, and as warning bells began to ring in the cramped cockpit, he could already feel the tug of the gravity well pulling them closer. After a few minutes, Aryian managed to bypass what remaining power there was into the repulsor systems as the craft hit the atmosphere, but it was nowhere near the power required to allow the heavy mech to make a safe landing. If anything, it allowed him to guide the mech down in a semi controlled manner, aiming for an island so as to avoid a water landing. The repulsors finally gave out about five kilometers above the ground, but it was enough to ensure it would land on a part of the planet where Aryian wouldn't immediately drown. Once again, the Grey Master tapped into the Force, projecting a powerful series of Force barriers in the cockpit to absorb the dangerous kinetic shock he was about to go through. Even though Saladin had heavy armor that would largely allow it to remain relatively undamaged from the impact, Aryian would be like a garbage bag of vegetable soup thrown from a thirty story building without shock protection. KRA-KOOOOMM The impact was deafening, and though the Force barriers helped, the kinetic Force jarred the Grey Master more than he was expecting. For a moment, he blacked out. When he awoke, he clenched his eyes tightly, a burning but wet sensation covering his face. Some sort of fluid spraying from the console...? The Force prickled his danger senses, and he knew he needed to flush it off immediately. He blasted the cockpit door open, blindly throwing himself out of the mech into the knee-high water below. Had it been any deeper, Aryian likely would have been in a great deal of trouble, his right arm was still more or less useless for swimming. As it was, though, the acidic coolant was quickly washed from his face before it could do significant damage to his skin, but the damage had already been done to his eyes. The one-armed Master was now blind. As this realization poured through him, he began to get very frustrated. First his arm, now his vision? Not to mention, he was now stranded on some unknown world. He thought he saw some sort of settlement on the far side of the island as he was hurtling through the atmosphere, but it was impossible to tell. He knew he'd landed in some sort of shallow lagoon, which thankfully the thin layer of water absorbed much of the impact along with the silt beneath it, but he simply didn't know much about where he landed, and now he couldn't see it. At least...he couldn't see normally. Aryian sighed heavily, reaching out with the Force, filling his vision with the blue ghostly images that represented the connections between all things. It was honestly something he hadn't done since he'd taught padawans, and while it was a good exercise to begin to touch the Force, it was also exhausting after a while. Armiena was half Miraluka, her mother the full Miraluka who always wore those creepy eye covers. Miraluka 'saw' like this all the time, it was how they'd evolved, but Aryian didn't have the endurance conditioning they had and was already exhausted from leaning on the Force for several hours prior to the crash. He checked his person, finding his light tonfa, and used it to cut a strip of cloth from his robes, wringing it out and wrapping it around his head, covering his eyes. The cool water felt good, and it would help protect his eyes from the elements while they healed. He would still be able to 'see', but it would definitely be an uphill struggle from here. Minutes later, he'd trudged from the water onto the beach, taking a seat under a tree. He was tempted to nap, but also knew that time was of the essence. Slowly, he expanded his senses, reaching out across the island, his thoughts prickling at the minds of any who were sensitive enough to hear him. Help...

Aryian normally didn't reflect much in the long stretches between planetary systems in the cold reaches of space. It was simply something that was, normal to him as driving to a job for most other beings who never left their planets. But recent events had him deep in thought. Kirlocca's death, confirmed by the comm he'd received from the Jedi shortly before making the jump to hyperspace, deeply troubled him. His recent recovery of his memories also had him worried. Was there more locked away from him? The simple answer was he didn't know. He was who he was, a collection of knowledge and experience regarding combat and the Force, his other memories...blurry. He didn't even know if it had affected his personality much. Had he been like this since the Ares incident? A warning klaxon sounded, and his eyes snapped open, reading at the same time what Saladin's onboard AI told him. "Master, I am experiencing a malfunction in my navicomputer. The course laid in to the hyperdrive has been corrupted, and I am unable to pull out of hyperspace." Aryian's face blanched, this was one of those malfunctions that usually just led to flying down a black hole or a small explosion on some asteroid somewhere in the middle of unpopulated space, or perhaps populated by frozen space monkeys, where nobody would know what happened. His hand reached out, gripping one control, and he closed his eyes halfway, grabbing the other with the Force. "Saladin, emergency override, transfer piloting controls to the main console." There was a minor pause before the AI chirped an acknowledgement. "Controls transferred, Master. Protocol requires me to remind you of the dangers in manually piloting a spacecraft travelling through hyperspace." But Aryian didn't really pay attention to the warning, the Force was already flowing through him, guiding his movements. Softly, he spoke again, barely able to maintain enough concentration to ask a question. "Can you fix the problem?" Another pause as the AI assessed the situation deeper. "The navicomputer is beyond my ability to fix. I can bypass the hyperdrive to allow for manual shutoff, but this will require rerouting many power conduits to provide for the correct grid sequence for a scaled shutdown, as well as reprogramming several subroutines. There will also be significant damage to my systems upon triggering the hyperdrive shutdown, necessitated by causing a cascade failure in order to do so." Not good, Aryian thought. "How long?" "Approximately five point three seven galactic standard hours." "...Do it." They could wind up halfway across the rim in that amount of time, and Aryian had no idea where the Force was guiding him, only that it was away from dangers hidden in realspace. But, the Grey Master had no choice. He was at the mercy of the guiding will of the Force, something he hadn't trusted in a long time.

Aryian stiffened suddenly mid-step. Something had happened...a death. A death of a friend. Kirlocca. Mandalore seemed to spin around him as he became incredibly sick to his stomach, leaning against a tree and throwing up. Unfortunately, wearing the helmet he'd been given wasn't exactly ideal for that action, and he ditched it as quickly as he could. Some of his unit were obviously passing around looks, wondering if it was even worth it to bring a Jedi out into this god forsaken nightmare. But one thing was for certain in the mind of the Grey Master: he couldn't stay. The Mandalorians would be fine, Aryian had seen it, and his destiny lied elsewhere. Sending a short comm to Fett explaining his intentions via the implant he'd recently rediscovered, Aryian used the Force to hasten joining up with Saladin, immediately blasting off for the upper atmosphere. As he did so, he ensured telemetry of the forest was relayed to one of Fett's scouts, hopefully giving valuable intel on the threats ahead. Of course, what remaining orbital forces there were couldn't slow down the Wolf Spider, and in moments it had punched through the dwindling clouds of snubfighter ships, leaving the system behind as soon as it was clear of the gravity well.

((Not sure who I'm supposed to be with right now, so...generic post!)) The rest of the day was more or less a blur for Aryian, as he was finally granted a reprieve from combat and finally able to focus in a meditative state on things that were lost to him. He had a ship. He had worked heavily with the Jedi in the past on not-so-publicly-known operations. Eventually, he'd left the order and founded a small organization that was meant to serve as an elite strike force...that was where he knew Fett's lady friend from, albeit briefly. Mirdala. Lot of good that group did. Great plan, terrible execution. Story of his life. And his son. How had he almost forgotten his own son? Oh yeah. He barely knew the kid, even when he and Armiena were still together. She was the one thing he'd never forgotten, painfully so. Maybe that was the key? His painful memories certainly were stronger...perhaps a side effect of Ar-Pharazon's vile manipulations that had him galavanting around as Ares. In any case, the more he remembered, the better his arm felt. Eventually, a call to arms was put out, this was something Aryian had expected. The fight wasn't over. Soon, he found himself marching with the rest of the Mandalorians, the woodline looming ahead. It was almost too late when the Grey Master had a sudden feeling, yelling loudly for the Mandos with him to stop moving. Slowly he moved forward, activating his lightsaber, and slashed out at seemingly nothing. A ghostly shimmer of fine lines slowly fell down from horizontal positioning to the forest floor, cleanly cutting branches and leaves from nearby plants as it fell. "Monofilament wire. Send word to the other groups, the way ahead is booby trapped. No telling exactly what they left for us."

Scarif Astrographical Information Region: Outer Rim Sector: Abrion System: Scarif Orbital Position: No canon references to other planets in the system Moons: None Grid Coordinates: Q-4 Physical Information Class: Aquatic Atmosphere: Type 1 Breathable Oxygen Mix Primary Terrain: oceans, tropics, and volcanoes Points of Interest: Crash site of two star destroyers Societal Information Indigenous Species: No known sentient indigenous species Immigrated Species: Human, Falleen Primary Language(s): Basic, a very distant dialect of Falleen, and Lanu (visual language spoken through skin tone and pattern. Faction Affiliation: Neutral Defense Rating: 1 ((Summary compiled by Jedi T'ali'au. Thank you!))

A blaster bolt zipping past Aryian's head snapped him out of his reverie. He was in a war zone, and was acting like a child. He couldn't shake the familiarity of all this, but it was no time to get lost in his own thoughts. The Grey Jedi charged with a vicious yell, jumping into the front lines like beast of war, the silver-bladed lightsaber tonfa carving through everything in his path, reflecting blaster bolts with ease, and giving the Sith who saw it a measure of fear for the Grey Master. It was a dance. All of it. An old familiar dance that Aryian had once knew long ago. The Jedi special forces, the commando operations, the Augury with Kirlocca and Fett and Mirdala and... Like floodgates opening, it all came rushing back to him. And in the middle of a war, he stopped, overwhelmed with all he'd forgotten. Armiena. Coruscant. His son...his son... A large mechanical leg came crashing down, crushing a Sith soldier that had the gumption to charge Aryian when he stopped moving. [Perhaps you would be safer in the cockpit.] The Grey Master looked up, seeing a hatch open, and quickly scrambled to it, settling himself in the seat. The controls were like Aryian had only handled them the day prior. Dipping deeply into the Force, he took the controls, melding his own commands with that of Saladin's AI, the Force guiding them to eliminate threats preemptively, that no sensor system could have predicted. The old familiar dance continued, set to music only Aryian could hear. But in his joy and wonder at remembering much of what was lost to him, he also inadvertently activated his implant comm, sending a message to the only other two in system capable of receiving it. <I...I remember...>

Aryian followed the tank. That, simply, was what the Grey Master did, almost absentmindedly, all the while trying to remember. Armiena had something to do with it, that much he knew. But...there was something else nagging at the back of his mind. Something to do with Fett. The spider tank reached the front lines with relative ease, engaging the enemy with extreme prejudice, not only firing round after round of railgun ammunition into the fray, but stepping and physically crushing many troops it encountered, fast enough to catch all but the fastest runners of those that chose to flee instead of engage. In this way, it began to hold a whole sector of the perimeter all by itself with only minimal help from Mandalorian snipers. Nothing the Sith currently brought to bear was enough to breach Saladin's ridiculously thick armor, and thus any attempts they made to either assault or even mount it were fruitless. Time passed, and all the Grey Master could do was stare. Something about a drill. An augur. Something in the back of his mind. Slowly, like aged molasses pouring from a jar, Aryian's own memories began to unlock themselves. The grand tapestry that was his mind had begun to mend.

After some research, the use of Tenebris's shields is the move that saved them. Wookieepedia has some differing information on what Echani shields block, but the main page for them does mention sonics. That, and the setup for them is legit. Skye is incapacitated, but Tenebris is still conscious, and the hoverchair is damaged. Faust also has to deal with a stun blast from a sniper rifle (that's a thing?). <> Lusef Aryan gets next post.

Rules for this aren't in effect yet. So it's gotta get nulled.

Jek crushed the datapad in his oversized hand, the genetically enhanced human snarled to the rest of the men present in his office. "Triple the guard. We own this place now, and we're not going to let some ninny two-shoes come and try and scare us out!" Over the next few days, the deployed mercs of the company were recalled, and fortifications were built up around the entire Chateau, making the place ready for a war or a siege, if necessary. Guards roamed every hall regularly, rooms swept and checked every twenty minutes. The warning had only served to stir the beehive, not weaken it. Rachel would certainly have her work cut out for her.

High above Mandalore, just above the skirmishes in space, a smallish figure winked back to realspace, still at a high velocity from the rigors of hyperspace. It did not track as friendly on either fleet, nor did it track as hostile, and merely seemed to be space flotsam that would burn up in the upper atmosphere. It was only after that didn't initially happen that any of the Mandalorian units bothered to report it to anyone, as it was aimed directly for Keldabe. The Sith ships hadn't planned on it, and it clearly wasn't a Mandalorian shuttle, so it would only be fortune if it damaged the city at all, and so they did nothing. However, as it fell, several Mandalorian AA guns that had not been destroyed in the artillery barrage opened fire on the object, a few even getting lucky with their shots and almost directly impacting it, however none of the shots seemed to slow it down or phase it, much less break it up. Its armor was far too thick and even alchemically enhanced for the airburst rounds to do much more than add carbon scoring, though had they the time to score several more direct hits, it might have made the difference. Down on the surface, a familiar itch was felt in the back of Aryian's mind. The light tonfa lashed out again and again, spinning, whipping to catch and deflect, feinting, thrusting...it was an intricate dance that Aryian was very comfortable with, the practiced staccato steps almost warm, like the embrace of an old friend. It was when the Sith moved unpredictably that Aryian knew something was up, and pushed himself away from the Sith in a backflip, landing further down the street. The Force was with him, and the timing was such that the Grey Master avoided the remainder of a flechette round that rendered the Sith into humanoid Swiss cheese. That was when Aryian heard the voice in his head. [You are advised to take cover.] The Force Barrier was quick, and thankfully so, as less than a second later a hypersonic railgun round from above splashed down, detonating at the feet of the Sith, ripping the cyborg's corpse apart. A few seconds after that, aided by repulsors, the large hulk of the spider tank Saladin boomed down and landed hard where the Sith once stood. A few of the Mandalorians shot at the large tank, their rounds harmlessly ricocheting away, Saladin's armor being far too hardy for small arms to have any real impact. Aryian barely recognized the thing, and couldn't even quite place its name. The large head craned, training its guns on the newfound assailants, unsure of who to target. It's booming basson voice played out over its external speakers, the volume set high so that the area could hear. "[i am here to protect Jedi Master Darkfire. All those who would make him their enemy are also [i]my[/i] enemy. You are warned.]" The shots petered out mostly, and Saladin craned back towards the old man. [i would have your orders, Master.] Some Mandalorians, unphased, called out to the Jedi, asking if he'd seen which way the others had gone. While he was unsure, the Force was still partially guiding him, and he pointed with two fingers down the road at two buildings across from each other. Otherwise, his attention was still fully occupied with the hulking monstrosity looming over him. "I...Uh..." [...Master?] Aryian didn't think much, there was time for thinking later. "Travel northeast. Engage the enemy of the Mandalorians. Protect this city." [Your will be done, Master.] The tank lumbered off, though with measured grace, taking care to avoid structures and avoid further collateral damage from its movements. Meanwhile Aryian turned his attention back as best he could to the situation at hand.

High in the northern mountains of the top continent of Nubia sat a rather fortress like estate that belonged to the Adelyn nobility lineage. In ancient times, it had served as a hold for the region, and had many fond memories for most of the Adelyn lineage in their childhood. At least, that had been the case. It also made a nearly perfect spot for a band of interstellar mercenary group to set up headquarters and base their operations out of. The area was perfectly defensible, and in their initial assault they had managed to wipe out everyone so quickly that nobody from what passed for the local law had any time to respond. Now the authorities were aware of the situation, but it was too late to do much about it, and they had other matters to attend to, so the matter was simply left open. However, Rachel Adelyn, the eldest daughter of Lord Clive Adelyn, had just now returned from her time with the Jedi, unable to progress her training any further than her limited skills would allow. Instead of staying with them, Rachel had decided to return to her estate and tend to her family and the Nubian court. Her training and education would have served her well, had the mercenaries not chosen her family to target. Now, she was back, and it was time to reclaim what was hers, though with no weapon and a strong distaste of engaging in combat, she would need to find others and alternate means of securing what was hers by birthright. First post goes to Jaina Jade Skywalker.

Rachel Adelyn's Character Sheet Identity Real Name: Rachel Adelyn A.K.A: Lady Adelyn Homeworld: Nubia Species: Human Physical Description Age: 34 Height: 5' 8" Weight: A Lady never reveals her weight. Hair: Silvery blond Eyes: Blue Sex: Female Equipment Clothing or Armor: A white dress, not overly encumbering, but definitely not suited for extreme wear. Weapon: None. Lady Adelyn is a pacifist. Common Inventory: Comlink, hand fan. Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User Force User Alignment: Lawful Good Current Faction Affiliation: Formerly Jedi Current Faction Rank: Acolyte History: Lady Adelyn was nobility from Nubia who trained with the Jedi for quite some time ever since she was a child. She has a strong sense of compassion and pacifism, unwilling to harm others, but understanding when others need to do harm to those who would promote evil. She was not quite sensitive enough to become a Knight, but she has a strong aptitude for illusions and telepathy, able to influence minds easier than some Knights. Recently, she has come home to find her family killed, her estate and fortress-like mansion overrun by a nasty group of mercenaries. Force Side: Light Trained by: Unknown Trained who: None Known Skills: Force Illusions, Alter Mind, Force healing Background: Listed in the History

So, briefly conferring with Brian and Ian, I've decided to change the ruling/nulling. I am selectively nulling everything to do with the 'Father' spirit, edits have already been made. Regardless of what this was intended for, it should have either been mod approved from the get-go to even skirt a canon character like this, or it's simply an abuse of the rules, especially the powers. Either way, the nulling stands, you may continue with the meeting. Original (now defunct) ruling spoilered below for archival reasons.

Okay, good posts gentlemen. Beck, your posts are very pinpoint and directed and I'm loving them. But the agents bring up a very good point in their defense, conceding a battle to win a war, putting things in proportion. And realistically, it does make sense that a floating city that many, many thousands of people live and work on would have backups upon backups for something so critical to keeping those citizens alive and not a singular weak point that can be 'naded save for maybe a main command center. And for that reason, this is ruled: <> Fight on!

So, the Mods have actually been discussing this one on and off for a few days. It seems rather unprecedented for a grab like this, and while IC it is fine for you to make an attempt to do so, using Coresec NPCs tactically with a now Remnant faction alias is not kosher. By this time, you can assume many outposts have gotten wind of the takeovers, and options to take advantages of traitors, especially in a fortified location such as this, are limited. If anything, I'll recognize the AI going psycho, as it seems from one of your other posts that was planned and set up, but traitor NPCs at this point should be seriously limited, if not used at all. Take the Helvault forcibly with Remnant NPCs. I have left the post mostly intact above (quote it) so you can use any of it that you'd like, but as it stands, the above post violates the tactical NPC rules.

I am an idiot. Aryian's subconscious had thought something different, a four letter word that wasn't worth repeating in nice company, but for some reason his mind translated it into that. The Force blast sent him reeling forwards, rocketing him off the roof ledge and forwards towards the Sith who was more than eager to meet him with a lightsaber. But the Force was with him, and the Grey master quickly recovered his senses to deflect two swipes with his tonfa and bounce the third off his armored pauldron before landing behind the Sith in a shoulder roll. As Aryian rose, however, the lightsaber blows continued to rain down on him, and he dipped heavily into the Force, relying on shattered memories of Soresu to defend and deflect each and every blow. But in the back of his mind, Aryian worried. He could not do this alone. This set off a chain reaction even the Grey master could not have fathomed in his current state, reactivating a long dormant implant and sending a message off world. Help was on its way.

I can kind of see what is going on here, I think it's more or less a primal awakening of latent Force powers in Lux? Regardless, Tenebris used a lot of closed attacks in the killshot post, which is usually a major no-no. As no weapon is involved, and the defense seems adequate, I'm going to call this one: <>

Per the rules, as this was not a faction harvesting the furry little buggers, the Cult of Morthos gets one per day, for a total of nine ysalamir.

Aryian followed Tresha, covering the team from the occasional stray blaster bolt with a quick Force barrier. It was when he felt the presence of the Dark Side that the hair on the back of his neck bristled, and he slung his blaster rifle over his back and drew the lightsaber he'd made the night prior, igniting it with a brilliant snap-hisss. He didn't make eye contact with anyone as he simply spoke, knowing Tresha would hear him. "Sith ahead. Be cautious." Hefting the hilt in his left hand, he swung it a few times, testing the grip, before utilizing the Force to jump to the nearest rooftop. It was high time the Grey Master doled out some justice. He was, once more, an instrument of the Force, and the Force was his ally. As he closed on the position, he saw the Sith about to reach a lone Mandalorian firing on him, and Aryian quickly snapped up another Force barrier between him and the Mandalorian, this time focusing so as to maintain it. Not again. He refused to lose any more to the rapaciousness of the Dark Side. Not this time.

Aryian had awoken before it even started, the Force alerting him to the danger. He had slept just behind a broken wall on the perimeter, with just enough top cover to shelter him from the misting rains through the night. Like terrible thunder the rounds rolled in, and Aryian was already moving by the time his comlink kicked on, and he didn't bother to answer. He would be there. As he scrambled through the muck and streets he took care to not further injure his arm, still slung across his chest and strapped down. Before he reached the final rendezvous area, his danger senses spiked, and his gaze turned high into the sky. The familiar whistle of artillery grew louder, but the Grey master reached up and summoned a Force barrier in the trajectory path, causing it to detonate prematurely. Shrapnel rained down from the sky, but not nearly at the speeds necessary to be fatal. In moments, he had found the Mandalorian that had defended him the night before, now a part of his unit. Putting his good hand on her shoulder, he flowed his essence into her, using his abilities to enhance her natural functions, specifically her eyes and lowering her adrenaline. "Just breathe. Aim...and pull the trigger" He trusted she would catch his meaning. When first exposed to Force enhanced vision, many different people saw many different things, and it was important to stay calm...especially considering their surroundings.

This looks fairly straightforward. With no defense posted, the ruling goes in favor of Black Sun Agent(s). <> The TIE fighters get torn to ribbons, a cost of acting as a distraction against firepower designed to eliminate them. One or two might have survived the slaughter, but their craft are now crippled, and there is nowhere to retreat to. By the end of the day, those pilots will also be captured or dead.

As events unfolded, the Grey Master sat stoically, still staring into the fire. The crowd stirred, but there were more moving parts than met the eye. This was their story, their history they needed to get over. And Aryian wasn't the man to try and convince them. As the crowd cleared, Aryian addressed the one Mandalorian that defended him with his own body. "I'd say thanks, but I don't think you're looking for thanks. I'll try to keep out of the way from now on." Aryian stood, nodding to Tresha as he began to walk away, but he stopped as he was about to pass Rahg, and spoke once more, keeping his voice low and speaking quickly. He could feel the emotions rolling off the man, and knew very well that Aryian's death was something the man desired greatly. "When this war is said and done, and we both survive, you are more than welcome to kill me. If you can. I won't seek protection from it. I won't use the Force. My name is Aryian Darkfire. Killing me will bring you and your clan a good measure of glory. And it would be a fitting end." Aryian stated everything in a neutral tone, not intending offense or otherwise trying to rile the man. And he was dead serious. After a brief pause, he continued walking away, headed for a spot he'd picked out to sleep for the night. Morning would come all too soon.

"He's not wrong." Aryian's voice was low, making no effort for anyone other than Tresha to hear him. His eyes were still on the fire, but the Force began to make him acutely aware of the situation he'd caused for himself. "And in fact, it's one of the greatest shames the Jedi have had to bear. But it is simply the reality of it all. You learn to live with and accept what you can't change...and you can't change the nature of the Force." There was more murmurs now among those gathered, not even necessarily generated by what he said. He continued, in a more hushed tone, ensuring only Tresha would hear. "In fact, for nearly a year I was enslaved and bent to the will of a Sith Master to pretty much do exactly what he just described. Just because the Sith thought it was fun, and I was exploited while I was weak. It's probably best to just let me be."

For a long time, things were quiet. It felt...appropriate. A time for joy, a time for grief. Regret tended to drag people down, but forgetting the past was a mortal sin. After all, that's how anyone grew and thrived, they learned from the past. What was anyone if not a collection of experiences and memories? The last thought stung Aryian harder than he'd liked. What kind of man was he if he wished to dull his memories with alcohol...if he wasn't concerned with the lapses in his memory that were becoming more and more apparent? That wasn't living. It wasn't this shereshoy idea that Tresha had shared with him. It was selfish and cowardly. How could he have fallen so far, that he was no longer even true to himself? Well...no more. "I guess it's time." He didn't explain himself, and didn't really have to. He might have been relatively imbibed, but he was one with the Force, and the Force was with him. Like a tidal wave to those sensitive enough to know what was happening, the Force swelled to him, its limitless potential gently gathering to the Grey Master. Aryian stretched out his left hand, palm up, closing his eyes as the broken hilt levitated above him, slowly disassembling itself. Two broken pieces of durasteel piping rose from the mud to softly join the hovering pieces, meeting each other in a perpendicular joining. As they met, Aryian willed the atmosphere to his command, the Force beckoning to his call. Fire rose from the pit, following the line of concentrated oxygen to the new hilt, making appropriate welds that were clean down to the molecular level. The crystal had been barely damaged, but he could tell it would still function. The process was meticulously slow. Slower even than normal, perhaps, as Aryian had to concentrate harder just to focus on his task. But as he focused, his memories flooded back to him, strengthening his resolve, encouraging him. This is what they would have wanted for him...this would be to honor them. And as that thought resonated in his mind the Force seemed to agree, flowing to him easier, until he was a pyre of Force energy, a beacon of hope in the face of a foe that threatened to extinguish them all. After a while, the last few parts slowly slipped inside the new casing, completing the lightsaber tonfa. The Force calmed, and the hilt rested itself softly in his left hand. Aryian hefted it, testing the weight, and swung it a few times before it was ignited for the first time. He was no stranger to a tonfa saber, but it had still been some time since he'd used one. Standing from where he sat, he depressed the ignition button, and a brilliantly bright but slightly unstable silver blade cascaded light across his surroundings. It felt...right. And for the first time in a long time, he felt right. Tresha might have gained his old lightsaber, but she had given him something far more valuable in return. He turned it off, clipped it on his belt, and took his seat at the fire, either oblivious or apathetic to any onlookers the ceremony had managed to draw...his mind was focused, even through the now fading haze of the Mandalorian liquor. He would reclaim what was lost to him.