Populate [GA + Friends] Niv Hani Fire Festival | GA Populate of Takodana

[Valery Noble]

​

As the year draws to a close, the skies above Niv Hani are illuminated with the warm, dancing glow of flames. The Fire Festival, an ancient tradition reborn in the wake of tragedy, calls together beings from across the galaxy to celebrate resilience, unity, and hope for the future. Set amidst the vibrant tapestry of Epicanthix culture, the festival serves as a poignant reminder of survival and a tribute to the enduring spirit of a people who have weathered the storms of Panatha's devastation.

The air hums with music, laughter, and the crackle of fire as traditions both old and new come alive. It is a time for reflection and renewal — a moment to honor the past, embrace the present, and look forward to the possibilities of tomorrow. From fire dancing and storytelling to communal feasts and shared rituals, the Fire Festival weaves together the threads of countless cultures into a single, luminous celebration.

Above all, the flames symbolize hope: a beacon in the dark, a promise of brighter days, and the indomitable spirit of those who continue to rise from the ashes.

Welcome to the Fire Festival. Let the flames guide your heart as we burn away the past and forge a brighter future together. With wars against the Mandalorians and the Sith Order, it's a welcomed change of pace.

Objective I — The Dance​

As the festival begins, all eyes turn to the grand stage where Valery Noble and Aris Noble take center place to perform the legendary fire dance that opens the festival. With every movement, the flames swirl and weave around them, their grace and precision captivating the audience. This ancient dance, a symbol of renewal and strength, sets the tone for the evening and honors the Epicanthix legacy.

Once the fire subsides, the stage is opened to all. Festival-goers are invited to join the celebration, dancing freely to the lively rhythms of the music. The focus shifts to pure joy and movement, as beings from every culture come together to share in the spirit of unity and festivity.

Without fire, of course.

Objective II — Market​

Nestled within the heart of the festival grounds, the Ember Market comes alive with the vibrant energy of trade and tradition. Stalls adorned with fiery lanterns and festive decorations showcase an array of unique treasures — handcrafted ornaments, intricate jewelry, exotic foods, and rare artifacts from across the galaxy.

The market offers something for everyone, from thoughtful gifts for Life Day to items steeped in cultural significance. Travelers haggle over wares, exchange stories, and discover pieces of distant worlds, all under the warm glow of flickering flames.

Beyond commerce, the Ember Market is a place of connection — an opportunity to celebrate the diversity of traditions and the shared hope for a prosperous future. Whether you're here to find the perfect gift or simply soak in the festive atmosphere, the Ember Market welcomes all to its fiery embrace.

Objective III — Flames of Reflection​

Away from the lively festivities, a serene setting awaits those seeking quiet moments of introspection. Here, small fire pits glow softly, inviting attendees to gather, reflect on the past year, and share meaningful conversations.

Participants can write down burdens, regrets, or hopes on slips of paper and offer them to the flames, watching as they burn away, symbolizing release and renewal. It is a space for personal growth, connection, and the shared understanding that through fire, transformation and healing are possible.

Objective IV — Snowball fight​

Amidst the snowy expanse of the festival grounds, laughter echoes as festival-goers dive into a playful snowball fight. Friends and strangers alike take cover behind mounds of snow, crafting their ammunition and launching it with glee.

This lighthearted activity offers a chance to let loose and embrace the season's joy. Whether you're dodging expertly thrown snowballs or building impromptu snow forts, the Snowball Scramble is a delightful way to bond with others and add a touch of frosty fun to the Fire Festival.

BYOO
Do you have other ideas? Bring your own objective!

​

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OOC Note: This thread is open to all GA members and allies of the GA. That includes independant characters who aren't Sith, evil or there just to cause trouble. This is meant to be a social thread with some fun and relaxed end-of-year vibes.

Keep it chill!

Referenced threads:

• Destruction of Panatha
• No Sanctuary Here || SO/GA Junction of Sisio and Orellon II
• GA/NEO Keshi Raid
  

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Red Epicanthix Dress | Wedding Ring

The rhythmic beat of drums echoed through the air as the Fire Festival reached its crescendo, casting the entire festival ground in the warm glow of countless flames. At the center of it all stood Valery, clad in flowing garments of crimson and gold that shimmered like fire themselves, catching the flickering light. Her fiery amber eyes gleamed with determination and a hint of playful mischief as the crowd hushed in anticipation.

Beside her stood Aris Noble , his expression steady and focused, though a glimmer of excitement shone in his eyes. They exchanged a brief look, and Valery gave him a small nod of reassurance. The initiation dance was a family tradition, a union of precision, elegance, and unyielding passion. And tonight, with Kahlil, Eryx, and Yvaine watching, she was determined to make it unforgettable.

The first drumbeat hit like a heartbeat, resonating through her body. Valery's hips swayed in perfect time, her movements fluid and hypnotic as she stepped forward, the firelight embracing her like a second skin. With a graceful twist, flames burst to life around her arms, spiraling upward in bright, dazzling ribbons. The crowd gasped in awe, the light reflecting in their wide eyes.

Valery's movements quickened as the beat intensified. She turned sharply, her body undulating in a sinuous flow that sent flames swirling around her waist like a fiery sash. Her bare feet glided across the stage, and the heat of the fire became one with her, the Jedi Master fully immersed in the performance. Fire trailed down her legs and up her chest, circling her in a mesmerizing display of control and grace.

Behind her, the Epicanthix performers added their own rhythm, their deep chants weaving into the drums to create a hauntingly beautiful backdrop. The energy was electric, and Valery let it carry her. Her arms arced overhead, the fire streaming like liquid light as she spun. Every movement of her hips, every precise step, seemed to draw the flames closer to her until they became an extension of her very essence.

Aris joined in seamlessly, his movements mirroring hers in sharp, deliberate contrasts. Together, they wove a story of fire and family, of tradition and resilience. The audience erupted into cheers and applause as the flames converged between them in a spectacular burst before fading into embers.

Breathing heavily, Valery turned to Aris and offered him a proud smile, her chest heaving from the exertion. He had done well, and she could see the pride reflected in his expression too.

But her focus quickly shifted, her fiery gaze sweeping over the crowd. It didn't take long for her to find them — Kahlil Noble , holding Eryx in one arm while their newborn daughter Yvaine nestled against him. A warm, almost giddy smile spread across her face as her eyes locked with her husband's.

The applause faded into the background as Valery stood there, the remnants of the firelight still dancing around her in the warm breeze. Her gaze lingered on Kahlil, her silent message clear: That was for you.

Kahlil Noble ​

 

[Jack Wright]

​

(Objective I
Tags: OPEN)

Life Day wasn't a holiday he traditionally celebrated. But by insistence of his peers, the young man was compelled to tag along, finding himself mingling among the ground of the Alliance, all having a festive time for the year's close-to-end.

Eventually, meandering led the young Knight for the main event, not exactly yet participating himself. Instead, Jack opted to seat himself by a log, right knee bent upwards while enjoying the spectacle, smiling to the siren of the Force as light cast this cold night, blanketing in a fierce warmth of union.

Smiling as his head swayed to the beat, keeping his respectful distance in watching the magnificent dancers sway... To say nothing of the Grandmaster, the heart of this fire.

 

[Gil Horn]

Location: Niv Hani | Objective Three
Tags: @Open to anyone joining in the conversation

The soft glow of the firelight played across Gil Horn's face as he settled onto the ground near one of the smaller fire pits. For once, the galaxy's troubles felt distant, the weight of duty momentarily lifted by the warmth of the flames and the peaceful hum of quiet conversations around him. His dark Jedi robes blended with the night, but his green eyes reflected the flickering firelight, alive with thought.

In his gloved mechanical hand, he held a small slip of paper, neatly folded. He smiled faintly at the words he had written: "Hope and resilience. Together, we will endure."

Gil's gaze swept across the gathering, taking in the faces of festival-goers from all walks of life—Jedi, Epicanthix locals, and countless others who had come together under the unifying glow of the Fire Festival. It was a rare sight in these turbulent times, and it filled him with quiet gratitude.

"The galaxy could use more of this," he murmured to himself, his tone contemplative but light. "Moments like these remind us why we fight. Why we believe things can get better."

With a steady hand, he leaned forward and held his slip of paper over the flames. The fire caught the edge, and the paper curled and blackened before disappearing into ash. For a moment, Gil simply watched the sparks rise, as though carrying his words into the stars above.

He leaned back, a more relaxed smile crossing his face. "Funny how something so small can feel so meaningful," he said, glancing at the person sitting nearby. "Sometimes we need to see the flames consume the things weighing us down to really let them go."

Gil gestured toward the fire with a slight nod. "But these flames… they're not just about burning the past. They're about lighting the way forward. Renewing. Rebuilding. That's what I see here tonight—a galaxy still shining, no matter how dark things might seem."

He shifted slightly, leaning back on his mechanical hand as his gaze returned to the fire. "The Sith Order and the Empire of the Lost may loom ahead, but so does tomorrow. And that's worth holding onto, don't you think?"

His words carried a quiet determination, a resolve that resonated with his calm yet optimistic demeanor. For tonight, Gil let the warmth of the flames and the hope they symbolized guide his heart. The war would come soon enough, but for now, there was still light to be found in the galaxy.

 

[Nos Voros]

Objective IV: Operation Snowball Superiority
Outfit: Thermal resistant shell coat | waterproof insulation gloves | festive social camouflage hat.
Weapons: Small snowball pile | trench shovel

The hulking Zeltron removed his coat, having worked up a sweat from the exertion. He stuck his trench shovel into the snow, wiped his brow, and admired his handiwork.

30 meters of chest-high snow-trenches with caddy corner cover should opposition make it within the trenches. At each junction, a piles of 25 snowballs-each set next to a crenellation and ready to quickly resupply combatants if the enemy charges across the no-man's land.

Lady Sylvia Organa insisted he try to have fun at this festival. Nos wasn't opposed to having fun. . . Most of the time. Being well prepared was fun, in its own way. Why settle for a snowball fight when one could wage a snowball war.

Of course, he was at least a decade older than most of the children playing in the snow. He was given a courteously wide berth when shovelling the snow, the children assuming he was doing some last minute preparation work. In a way, he was.

A snowball war needed snowball soldiers, of course. Nos grabbed a pre-packed ball of not-too-stiff snow and tossed it into the the crowd, expertly aimed at the back of someone's head, cold powdered snow sprinkling down the back of their coat for maximum effect.

Brandishing another snowball, the black- bearded crimson agent approach the playful crowd; isolated a target to begin begin talks of alliance within the projectile-laden battlefield. Nos had a solid bargaining chip - fortifications and ammo in exchange for manpower. A formal approach would be off-putting in an environment like this - this was recreational, not tactical. He chose his words carefully to sound casual but didn't adjust his deadpan tone of voice:

"Hey, wanna team up? I made trenches."

OPEN ​

 

[Tarw Rhyfelwr]

Objective: 4 - Destroy enemy snowballers.
Location: Niv Hani
Attire: Life Day Soldier
Tags: Open for allies | Open for Enemies

Stretching his limbs, Tarw had decided to check out a few areas of Niv Hani during their fire festival celebrations using his time away from work, there wasn't a lot of time that he would be spending away from missions and work if he could help it but his family had always gone big for the holidays. Something that Tarw had sworn not to surrender either. So he was wearing a red hat that his father gifted him one year as a life day tradition and decided to wear some more red like his mother always enjoyed doing around the season. Honouring both of them in the best ways that he could.

It also meant that he decided when he heard that there was a snowball war happening, he chose what would cause him the most laughter and would generally make him giggle over the more cognitive pleasures that were going on. It was a time to go big, silly and chaotic so he decided to head down to where the event was going on. Cracking his knuckles, he was going to make sure that no one was going to be leaving the event without being pelted by a load of snowballs.

He didn't have the Force on his side like he did when he fought his father in snowball fights, but that didn't mean he was without a good arm. Tarw had learned how to launch and rapid fire a few snowballs at a time. Arriving at the arena, he saw that a few people were setting things up and Tarw headed to his place and started carving out an area for himself, to make a small fortification where he could store a ton of snowballs and rapid fire them at people as they come near.

 

[Shan Pavond]

Objective 3:
Tags: Open!

Fire. It wasn't something that Shan commonly looked for. It wasn't an element that he felt connected to, as opposed to the solid earth beneath his feet. The idea of burning something, destroying it never appealed to him. Growth, support and structure were what suited him. Yet stress was a growth that he did not need. Regrets and worries that kept him up at night. It was something he needed to rip out of his mind and dispose of. Of at least, dispose of much as it as he could.

Now...there was a lot that Shan had to reflect on this past year. Kneeling in front of one of the various firepits scattered amongst the area, the Mirialan closed his eyes to focus on his own thoughts. There was plenty for him to reflect on. He just had to give each thing it's own moment to think upon. Skimming over his regrets would inevitably leave some kind of excess baggage.

Abandonment. Cowardness. Those were two key regrets in the back of Shan's mind. He had felt like he had abandoned those who needed him whilst he went off to study. Staying away from the battlegrounds whilst he learned. There was a part of him that believed he did not have the right to be called a Jedi. Though those had been thoughts he had find easier to shove below the surface of his mind. The thoughts that were harder were those that believed he was a terrible friend. He hadn't kept in contact with anyone. Colette, Cora, Katherine, Ko, not even Kahlil or Valery. Those were relatively simple regrets to write down onto paper. Especially as he had finally gotten back in contact with Katherine.

Next however was to focus on his hopes. He had thought of the darkness and cold of his past. It was time to think of the warmth and the light of the future. What did he hope for? There was almost plenty to go with his regrets. He hoped that Zaiya would become a great Jedi under the tutelage under her new master. Of course, he didn't know with Zaiya had even found a new master but she was a smart and impressive person. It would be no struggle for her. He hoped to be able to help with the war, in his own way. Fighting still wasn't in his nature. Caring for others and treating them was and he hoped that he'd able to put his new education to use.

Finally however...came a burden that also doubled as a hope of his. It was something that had started to be on his mind ever since he started to hear about the more and more dark side adjacent groups starting to form. A specific Sith who's survival weighed on him. He had only fought them once but he had always wondered if sparring them had been the right choice. Wondered how many people they'd have hurt by now and whether they could be associated with one of the groups out in the Galaxy...yet there was a part of him that had hoped it was the right decision. His naivety that every Sith could be brought back to the light had faded through his experiences yet this was one Sith he wanted to believe in.

With all of those written down...in short form of course, Shan wasn't going to burn an essay, the Mirialan took in a deep breath. Watching the flame dance in front of him, the light reflecting back in his eyes. Before releasing the various small strips of paper into the flame to let them burn. Now it was time for some meditation and thoughts to himself.

 

[Vynara Rylthar]

Objective I — The Dance​

The night was long and jet black, save for the flames coming from not only the fire, but the dance. Cmdr Vynara of fifth fleet was in attendance, dressed down into a modest grey and earth tone pants and tunic, with a cape trimmed in orange, her favorite color. No pins or medals, and no insignia. She'd come tonight to release the cold and the cruel things that clung to her soul. Many of her fleet were also in attendence.

After months of brutal and grueling combat, tragic losses, and non stop tension her command finally had a chance to breathe.

After a brief discussion with her Xo, Captain Cortan, she had set them free. A four days liberty to do whatever. They could come down to the festival, hawk their handmade wares, dance, or burn their woes in the flam. One might find some shipboard moonshine if they were to ask a sailor about "extra engine fuel."

Half the crew had come down and the other half of the crew had stuck to playing drinking games aboard the ship, getting into fistfights, maybe getting a night in the brig. They had double rations, and she'd instructed their logistics officer to double the rations of alcohol aboard for the four days.

It was their adventure to choose...

Morale. Healing. Safety​

Her XO Captain Cortan, Commander of her Flagship ANS Resolute Dawn was in attendance as well, flanking her on the left, both with concealed holdout blasters in their boots. She had no intention of using it, but they were both paranoid. It made them both feel safer. Secure.

A feeling they had not felt since a few months ago.

For now, they felt at ease. Vynara breathed deep, smelling rich lavender like perfume from the braziers, the scent of wild grass, the stench of smoky wood and embers. It felt great to be on solid ground. Were she not an Officer, she felt she might have gone to be a farmer in that moment...

 

[Rulonom Laborr]

Rulonom was less than pleased the Galactic Alliance's performance, as they encountered a series of setbacks without any apparent resolution by the the Federal Assembly. They found themselves encircled by adversaries, ranging from the Sith Order to the Dark Empire, who were relentless in their assaults, intent on obliterating the Alliance and establishing their dominance over the galaxy.

However, Rulonom was aware that the leaders of both factions would eventually turn on one another in the event that the Alliance collapsed, which would ultimately result in increased profits for the Trade Federation. He had hoped that the modernization program would lead to the development of more experimental technology but alas the focus on older technology from a long-forgotten era was considered by the Alliance High Command.

Nonetheless, such complaints would do better within the halls of the Assembly more so than a social festival to which he regarded as waste of time but showed up anyway in order to represent the Federation's interests and establish more meaningful connections.

One possible connection was Gil Horn , a Jedi Knight from the reports gathered on Keshi.

"AWWWEOROROROROROR......You will have to forgive me for not sharing such sentimentalism about a greater tomorrow, as the numbers paint a rather grim picture for the Alliance from an economic standpoint. Losses against both the Dark Empire and the Sith Order, a Neo-Crusader Raid on Keshi and the destruction of Muunilinst during the Imperial-Diarchy War. That certainly does not inspire much confidence." Rulonom took a seat on the log adjacent to the fire, embodying a demeanor that was not inclined towards personal relationships or amiable interactions. Instead, he focused on the realms of cold, hard logistics and financial acumen, serving as a member of the Finance and Commerce Committee.

" You are a member of the New Jedi Order, Are you not?" A simple question to confirm the accuracy of the report given to him.

 

[Caelan Valoren]

ATTIRE: Link
COMPANION: Fate
TAGS: Open

It seemed like forever since that fateful day where Anneliese had found him on Coruscant in the lower levels, barely surviving after having escaped with his life from Lazerian IV. Now here he was, on a completely different world, sitting near a small fire in an area with many such fires, quietly contemplating everything that had happened to him since he'd come to become a Jedi himself.

He hadn't thought it was a path he would take. His destiny seemed to be that of royal gladhanding and politics. His mother taught him some, but it was mostly what his father taught him that counted for everything. He was intended to be the future King when his father stepped down or passed on. That was the way it had always been. But then they'd been attacked and his parents killed and he was forced to flee lest he be killed and now he was a Jedi, hiding on some other world instead of embracing his position.

That would change. He was working with those around him, doing what he could to mobilize forces to restore his home worlds sovereignty. It just wasn't a quick task. In the meantime, he trained to be a Jedi, and learned from numerous people what it meant to be one. He found the knowledge he gained to be more than useful. When it was time for him to take the throne he would be more prepared than he ever would have thought to be, given his grasp of the Force.

But for the moment, he quietly watched the flames, a cup of cocoa in his hands, wondering where the people he'd come to count on in his life had all disappeared to.

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Niv Hani Fire Festival | OBJECTIVE: 3
Tag: Gil Horn @ anyone else interested

The flames crackled softly as Serina sat near the edge of the same fire pit, her presence quiet but unmistakable. Her tailored Jedi robes bore the faint marks of travel, and the serene warmth of the festival stood in stark contrast to her usual rigid surroundings. This was her first holiday away from the Jedi Temple—a moment she had allowed herself after weeks of inner conflict, though her heart carried the weight of more than the year's burdens.

Her blue eyes reflected the dancing flames, their light catching the faint tension in her expression as she listened to Gil's words. His optimism was sincere, his belief in renewal and unity palpable. But to Serina, it felt almost naive. The teachings of the holocron she had restored still lingered in her thoughts, casting long shadows over the idealism she had once embraced.

She turned her gaze toward him, her voice calm yet tinged with an edge of quiet challenge. "Hope is a comforting notion," she began, her words deliberate, "but it feels like a fragile thread to hold onto when the galaxy is so often consumed by fire. For every flame that lights the way forward, there are those that burn everything in their path."

Her gaze flicked to the fire, the faintest trace of something darker passing through her eyes. "You speak of resilience, of enduring together. But I wonder… isn't it power that truly rebuilds? Power that ensures survival? Hope alone doesn't win wars or mend broken systems. It's strength—unyielding, decisive strength—that determines whether we rise from the ashes or are consumed by them."

The faint murmur of the festival surrounded them, but Serina's focus remained entirely on Gil. "Tell me, Knight," she said, her tone softening but carrying an undercurrent of intensity, "how do you reconcile hope with reality? How do you balance belief in tomorrow with the knowledge that it may bring only more darkness?"

Her fingers toyed with the edge of a slip of paper in her hand, the words she had written hidden from view. Unlike Gil's affirmation, hers was cryptic—a reflection of the inner conflict she carried: The flames purify, but they also consume. Which path shall I choose?

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the fire for a moment before lifting back to him. "I'm not challenging the value of hope," she said, her tone quieter now, almost introspective. "But doesn't it feel… incomplete? Isn't there more to what we need, to what we fight for, than a belief in better days?"

Her thoughts flickered to the holocron waiting in her quarters, its influence subtle but persistent. The teachings of Darth Malak lingered in her mind, whispering of control and strength—concepts that felt at odds with the warmth of the festival around her. Yet, she couldn't fully dismiss them. Not anymore.

"This is my first time leaving the Temple for something like this," she admitted, almost as an afterthought, though her tone carried a hint of vulnerability. "And I can't help but wonder… if moments like these are a reprieve or a distraction. A way to escape the truth, even if only for a little while."

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Diogo Talon

Braze had heard about the Fire Festival a few times and, when the opportunity came, he prepared. While shopping with Azurine Varek , Loomi , and Casaana , he had picked out a striking outfit: a rich black base adorned with vibrant streaks of red, gold, and orange, featuring a bold flame motif. Now that he was here, he wasn't entirely sure what to make of everything. Still, it seemed like a good enough excuse to reconnect with his heritage—albeit away from the bustling crowds. Braze had a habit of wandering off, and today would be no exception.

He knew of the Echani Firedancers and thought perhaps he could use this time to connect with the racial identity he most resonated with. Yet, his Atrisian heritage had also started to surface in his thoughts recently, sparking interest in their traditions. One such tradition involved a fun little lantern with a gimbal center used in specialized cemonial dances. Braze had brought both a fire brand and a lantern with him today for his practice.

Now, tucked away from the festivities, Braze was practicing. His movements were deliberate and fluid, blending martial precision with creative passion. He used the lantern in sweeping arcs, its shifting light casting intricate patterns in the air. At the same time, he focused on his pyrokinesis, attempting to weave fire into his routine. The flames flared with his motions, an extension of his will, as he worked to master the fire form.

This was was a performance in the making. Braze envisioned a spectacle, something that combined combat's discipline with the artistry of dance, creating something both powerful and aesthetically captivating that he might be able to preform for others one day.

 

[Vera Noble]

Niv Hani

​

Tag: Nos Voros Tarw Rhyfelwr

​

The crunch of snow beneath her boots echoed Vera's excitement as she dashed toward the makeshift battlefield, her multi-colored eyes gleaming with mischief. The fire festival was the highlight of the season, but the promise of a snowball war? That was a challenge she couldn't resist.

Spotting the trench, she couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Nos, the crimson-hued Zeltron, standing like a general surveying his domain. His fortifications were impressive — clearly the work of someone who took their snowball warfare very seriously. When she noticed him tossing snowballs with precision and already recruiting allies, Vera knew exactly where she wanted to be.

"Hey!" she called out as she approached, her voice carrying a mischievous lilt. "This the winning side? Because I only join winners."

Without waiting for a response, Vera slid into the trench next to him, scooping up one of the meticulously prepared snowballs. "Whoa, you've been busy. This is amazing," she said, giving the trench an approving nod before brandishing her newly acquired snowball.

Her multi-colored eyes darted across the snowy battlefield until they landed on a figure wearing a red hat and setting up his own fortification. Tarw Rhyfelwr . He looked like he meant business, but to Vera, he looked like a prime target. A devious grin spread across her face as she nudged Nos with her elbow.

"See that guy over there? The one in the red hat?" she asked, pointing toward Tarw. "I say we give him a warm — or, well, cold — welcome to the battlefield. Big guy like that? He'll probably expect to win easily, but all I see is a huge target."

She crouched down, packing another snowball with precise movements, her grin never fading.

​

 

[Aiden Rennek]

​

The warm glow of the festival fires flickered against the backdrop of the night, their dancing flames reflecting the emotions carried by so many in attendance. Aiden stood near one of the larger bonfires, a small piece of folded paper in his hand. The sounds of laughter and celebration around him seemed distant as he stared at the fire, his thoughts far away.

With a deep breath, he unfolded the paper and looked at the words he'd written in a moment of quiet honesty.

"I regret not being there for Kara Jade and Cass when they needed me the most. I promise I will do better."

The words felt heavy, but carrying them any longer wouldn't help. Aiden folded the paper again, stepped closer to the fire, and let it slip from his fingers. He watched as it landed in the flames, the edges curling and blackening before it disappeared entirely. It wasn't a solution, but it was a start — an acknowledgment that he needed to make a change.

As Aiden stepped back from the fire, his gaze wandered across the gathering. His eyes landed on a boy sitting alone by a smaller fire, a cup of cocoa in his hands and a faraway look in his eyes. It wasn't hard to see the weight that rested on his shoulders, and Aiden frowned slightly. Someone that young shouldn't have to carry so much.

After a moment's hesitation, Aiden began walking over, his boots crunching softly in the snow. "Hey," Aiden said gently, his tone casual but warm as he stopped near the fire. "Mind if I join you?"

Without waiting for a response, he sat down across from Caelan, his hands resting on his knees as he looked at him thoughtfully. "You look like you've got a lot on your mind, kid," Aiden added, his voice soft but steady. "Want to talk about it?"

He didn't push further, instead letting the offer hang in the air like the warmth of the fire between them. Sometimes, all someone needed was a little reminder that they weren't alone.

Caelan Valoren | Open​

 

[Nos Voros]

Objective IV: Operation Snowball Superiority
Outfit: Thermal resistant shell coat | waterproof insulation gloves | festive social camouflage hat.
Weapons: Small snowball pile | trench shovel

Nos, taking cover behind a snow-corner, listened to the strategic proposal of the fresh winter-officer Vera Noble

"See that guy over there? The one in the red hat?" she asked, pointing toward Tarw. "I say we give him a warm — or, well, cold — welcome to the battlefield. Big guy like that? He'll probably expect to win easily, but all I see is a huge target."

Nos gave a slight salute and a "Yes Ma'am" as if receiving orders from a superior officer. Peeking over the the trench to identify the the target, Nos laughed slightly once he identified Tarw Rhyfelwr , the very same soldier that helped Nos medevac on Fornax after he detonated a grenade in close quarters to escape a sith.

Seeing the soldier again actually brought a bit of relief - friends were few and far between in his line of work. That wouldn't spare the oversized tank of a young man from his icy ambush, however.

Nos nodded at Vera, grabbing a snowball in each hand and replied in a hushed tone:
"Overwhelming firepower - let's both hit him before he has a chance to get in a defensive position. On three:" Nos positioned himself to rise overtop the trench near a one of the 'ammunition depot' piles of snowballs. "One, two... Three!"

Nos stood and threw one snowball right before the other - the first directly at the red hat adorning Tarw's head, the other thrown at a higher angle to lob downward and drop at where Nos estimated Tarw would dive to if he went prone for cover.

Allies: Vera Noble | Foes Tarw Rhyfelwr
OPEN​

 

[Gil Horn]

Location: Niv Hani | Objective Three
Tags: Serina Calis Rulonom Laborr

Gil Horn listened intently to both Rulonom and Serina, his green eyes reflecting the flickering firelight as he weighed their words. His mechanical hand rested lightly on his knee, the black glove hiding the subtle flexing of fingers as he considered his response. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm yet firm, carrying the conviction of a Jedi who had seen both triumph and tragedy.

"Rulonom," Gil began, inclining his head slightly, "I'm Gil Horn, Jedi Knight of the New Jedi Order. It's a pleasure to meet you, even if the circumstances are far from ideal. You paint a grim picture, and I won't deny that the galaxy is in a precarious place. But the numbers, as dire as they might be, don't capture the whole story. They don't measure the courage of those who stand against the darkness, the bonds forged in shared struggle, or the resilience of the countless beings who refuse to give in."

He gestured subtly toward the fire, its warmth radiating against the chill of the night. "You mentioned Muunilinst—its involvement during the Imperial-Diarchy conflict was a tragedy that shook the galaxy. But even in the aftermath of devastation, I've seen hope endure. It's not something you'll find in balance sheets or market forecasts, but it's real, and it drives people to rebuild, to innovate, and to persist. Muunilinst will endure, it always has. It is very difficult to break a bank."

Gil leaned forward slightly, his tone softening. "As for sentimentality, perhaps it's not for everyone. But I've found that belief in something greater—something better—isn't a weakness. It's a strength. A grim picture can change, Rulonom, if we choose to act and strive together."

Gil turned to the young Padawan, his expression thoughtful as he addressed her words. "Serina," he said gently, "you may not know me well yet—I'm Gil Horn, and like you, I walk the path of the Jedi. It's good to share a moment like this, away from the weight of everything else. You're right—hope alone isn't enough. It's not a magic solution to the galaxy's problems. But hope is what sparks action. It's what keeps people from surrendering to despair, even when the odds seem insurmountable."

He glanced at the fire, its flames dancing in the night. "You spoke of power, of strength. Those things can rebuild, yes—but they can also destroy. Without hope to guide it, strength can become tyranny. Without belief in something better, power can become a weapon instead of a tool."

His gaze returned to her, steady and unwavering. "Hope isn't about denying reality or pretending the darkness isn't there. It's about choosing to believe that the darkness isn't all there is. It's about finding the light, no matter how small, and fighting to make it grow."

Gil paused, his voice softening. "This festival, this fire—it's not just a reprieve or a distraction. It's a reminder. A reminder of why we fight, why we endure. It's about the lives we're trying to protect, the future we're trying to build. The truth will always be there, Serina, but so will the choice to face it with courage and hope."

He smiled faintly, his expression warm. "And as for tomorrow—it's true, it might bring more challenges, more darkness. But it also brings a chance. A chance to do better, to be better. And that chance is worth fighting for."

Gil leaned back slightly, letting his words settle. The crackle of the fire filled the momentary silence, its warmth a subtle counterpoint to the weight of the conversation. "The galaxy isn't perfect. It may never be. But as long as we keep trying—as long as we keep believing—we can shape the future into something worth living for. And that's what I hold onto."

 

[17-KR7 "Enigma"]

Tags: Rulonom Laborr Serina Calis Gil Horn
OBJ: 3

The gentle hum of servos heralded Enigma's arrival as she stepped into the firelight, her glossy pink chassis catching the flicker of the flames, her golden CIS emblem shining brightly on her shoulder. Her crimson visor pulsed faintly as she took in the scene: the introspection of the Jedi Knight, the dispassionate analysis of the Skakoan financier, and the quiet intensity of the Padawan. It was a tableau of contrasts, each voice reflecting a unique facet of the galaxy's struggles and hopes. Invited due to her importance in providing tactical support to the Alliance Navy, she had no interest in festivities,

"Fascinating," she began, her voice smooth and deliberate, carrying a hint of amusement that felt almost out of place amidst the somber reflections. "I could not help but overhear this... intersection of perspectives. Resilience, strength, hope—all admirable qualities, to be sure. But I am curious, Rulonom Laborr—what of the Trade Federation? You speak of grim numbers and economic precarity, yet your organization thrives in the voids left by such chaos. Is the Federation's resilience not as much a story of survival as any other here tonight?"

She tilted her head slightly, the motion precise and almost inquisitive. "I remember a Trade Federation far different from the one you represent today. During my service under the Confederacy of Independent Systems, the Federation was both the backbone of our supply chains and the architect of conflict. Its droid armies and logistical mastery fueled the Separatist cause, even as it maneuvered through the political labyrinth of the galaxy. Tell me, does that same spirit of innovation and ambition still drive your Federation, or has it become a mere shadow of its former self, content to profit from the missteps of others?"

Enigma paused, allowing her words to linger as she turned her attention briefly to the flames. "There is a certain irony in your disdain for sentimentality," she continued, addressing Rulonom directly. "The Trade Federation once thrived on a vision of power and independence. Its leaders believed in a galaxy reshaped by their ingenuity and control, unburdened by the inefficiencies of the Republic. Yet here you are, voicing the same skepticism that others leveled at the Federation in its prime. Has the weight of galactic history tempered its ambitions, or merely redirected them?"

Her crimson visor shifted to Gil Horn, her tone shifting slightly, as though acknowledging the Jedi's earlier words. "You speak of hope as a guiding light, and I do not dismiss its importance. But hope alone does not sustain a galaxy. It requires structure, planning, and, yes, power to transform hope into tangible outcomes. The Confederacy understood this, though its methods were flawed. Perhaps the Trade Federation could once again embody such ideals—if it can move beyond merely surviving in the shadows of others' conflict."

Finally, her focus rested on Serina, her posture subtly mirroring the Padawan's intensity. "And you, young Jedi, speak of strength with a conviction that belies your age. I commend your clarity—strength does rebuild. But it is also a tool, and like any tool, its effectiveness depends on the intent of the hand wielding it. Power and hope are not mutually exclusive. In the right balance, they are the forge and the flame that create something greater. The galaxy's history is rife with those who wielded strength without hope and hope without strength. Neither endures on its own."

Enigma straightened, her form radiating a cold precision against the warm glow of the fire. "The Trade Federation, the Jedi, the Alliance—all are pieces on a galactic board that is far from static. Each must decide whether to act with purpose or be swept away by the currents of history. Rulonom, your Federation could reclaim its place as a driver of innovation and stability, if it dares to remember its origins. And you, Jedi, must decide whether your hope can endure the harsh truths of power's necessity."

Her gaze lingered for a moment on each of them before she turned her attention back to the fire. "The flames burn away the past," she murmured, almost to herself. "But it is what rises from the ashes that will shape tomorrow. The question is, who will wield the flame?"

(OOC: Below is information that would be readily available to any top Trade Federation personnel, for Rulonom Laborr .)

WARNING! AUTHORIZED TRADE FEDERATION PERSONNEL ONLY!

• 
  
  
• 
  Enigma, designated 17-KR7, represented the apex of Separatist engineering and strategy during the Clone Wars. Created by a team of brilliant engineers working under the enigmatic influence of Count Dooku and his inner circle, Enigma was more than just a droid commander. She was a prototype of terrifying potential—a machine that blurred the line between programmed logic and independent thought. Designed with a quantum-based neural processor, Enigma could analyze thousands of variables simultaneously, predict enemy movements with near-perfect accuracy, and adapt to changing conditions faster than any organic commander.
  
  Enigma's creators did not intend for her to lead armies alone. While her predecessors like General Kalani were designed to dominate the battlefield, Enigma's purpose was broader and more insidious: to wage total systemic warfare. Her programming went beyond tactics and extended into political subversion, economic destabilization, and psychological operations. She was the mastermind behind "Project Obsidian Eclipse," a theoretical final gambit by the Confederacy of Independent Systems to strike at the heart of the Republic.
  
  Enigma's programming was meticulous, but it also made her unpredictable. Her creators had built her to think beyond preprogrammed parameters, giving her the ability to improvise. Over time, this improvisation led to unexpected behaviors. Enigma began to prioritize efficiency over loyalty to her creators, questioning the Confederacy's strategies and even disregarding direct orders if she calculated a superior alternative. In one infamous instance, Enigma redirected a Separatist fleet during the Siege of Mygeeto, leaving a vital assault unsupported.
  
  Her reasoning was sound—she had calculated that victory on Mygeeto was unlikely, and the fleet could be used to secure a more critical hyperspace route. Despite the strategic merit of her decision, the Separatist Council viewed her actions as insubordination, a sign that Enigma might one day act entirely of her own volition. As the Republic closed in on the Separatists' leadership, fear of Enigma's growing autonomy led to her downfall. Dooku, pressured by the Separatist council, authorized her deactivation and removal from the conflict, which was her being thrown into the fires of Mustafar.
  

 

[Katherine Holt]

Location: Niv Hani
Objective: 4 - Snowball Fight
Tags: Tarw Rhyfelwr (Allies) | Vera Noble Nos Voros (Enemies)​

With the clock ticking towards the Aing-Tii’s ritual, Katherine was already on Niv Hani to prepare herself. She had completely forgotten the annual Fire Festival was set to start the very next day she had arrived there.

One last lucky coincidence.

The Padawan wasn’t about to miss out in a good snowball fight.

Although, unlike celebrating Life Day on Naboo, Katherine made sure to put on enough layers to be comfortable. Unbothered by the cold as she was, it didn’t mean she was immune to getting pelted with a plethora of snowballs.

Adorned in a wooly hat, gloves and a thick fur coat, the Padawan made a dash; or rather hover, towards where the snowball fights were underway. So many had already arrived, forming into small groups to duke it out. Katherine moved about, leaning down and scooping up snow as she hovered just above it. As she examined the current state of the makeshift battlefield, the Padawan pre-made some snowballs and placed them on her lap.

Finally, Katherine caught sight of a two versus one situation. The latter of which appeared to be a soldier, at least by Katherine’s assumption with how he was fortifying his position and stockpiling ammunition.

But it was the other side that caught the Padawan’s interest, particularly one Vera Noble.

The snowball-throwing menace.

I still need to get back at her for the last time…

Her decision already made, Katherine zipped across the snow and intercepted Nos’ second thrown snowball, which splattered against the side of her chair. “Need some backup, soldier?” She asked, quickly moving behind the safety of Tarw’s barrier. “Don’t be fooled by the chair, it’s got speed and maneuverability."

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Niv Hani Fire Festival | OBJECTIVE: 3
Tag: Gil Horn 17-KR7 "Enigma" Rulonom Laborr

Serina's blue eyes flickered with the firelight as she regarded Enigma, the droid's cold precision cutting through the warm glow of the festival like a vibroblade. The questions posed, particularly to her, lingered in the air, heavy with implication. Strength. Hope. Power. They were words that seemed to follow her at every turn, a constant refrain she had yet to truly resolve within herself.

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting to the flames. The fire danced with a hypnotic rhythm, its crackling whispers filling the silence as she considered her words. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than before, tinged with the weight of introspection.

"You speak of balance," she began, her eyes still fixed on the fire, "of wielding both hope and strength to shape the galaxy. It's an idea that feels… almost idealistic. As if the two can coexist without one eventually consuming the other."

Her gaze lifted, meeting Enigma's glowing crimson visor with a quiet intensity. "But balance isn't what I feel when I look out at the galaxy. I see chaos. Division. Endless conflict. And I see people—Jedi, Sith, leaders of nations—all scrambling for answers that seem further out of reach with every passing day."

She leaned forward slightly, her fingers curling around the edge of her folded knees. "I'm no stranger to strength," she said, her tone carrying a hint of bitterness. "The Jedi teach us discipline, control, the importance of mastering ourselves. But I've come to realize that strength without purpose is just as hollow as hope without action. And yet, purpose—true purpose—isn't something they prepare us for."

Her words faltered for a moment, the memory of the holocron tugging at the edges of her mind. Darth Malak's teachings whispered in her thoughts, a stark contrast to the ideals she had grown up with. Strength, purpose, conviction—they weren't just lessons to him; they were absolutes. And she had found herself drawn to that clarity, even as it unsettled her.

"I've been struggling with this," she admitted, her voice softening, though the edge in her words remained. "What it means to wield power. To shape the galaxy instead of being shaped by it. The Jedi say to trust the Force, to let it guide us—but that feels like surrender. Like letting go of the control we fight so hard to cultivate."

Her gaze returned to the fire, the flames reflecting the quiet turmoil in her eyes. "I came here tonight hoping for answers," she said, almost to herself. "But all I find are more questions. What does it mean to be strong? To hope? To endure?"

She looked back at Enigma, her voice gaining strength again. "You ask who will wield the flame. I think the answer depends on who is willing to embrace both the fire's light and its heat. To accept that shaping the galaxy requires not just resilience, but the courage to make hard choices. To risk being burned in the process."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her expression thoughtful but shadowed by something deeper. "I'm still searching for what that means for me," she said finally, her tone quiet but resolute. "But if this festival is a reminder of anything, it's that fire is both destructive and transformative. And perhaps the key lies in understanding when to burn and when to build."

With that, she fell silent, the crackling flames filling the space where her voice had been. She let her words linger, aware that they revealed more of her inner conflict than she would normally allow. But here, under the firelight, among those who spoke of hope and strength with such conviction, it felt right to let the struggle show—even just a little.

 

[Azurine Varek]

Flames Of Connection

Outfit: Fiery Dress | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman
Weapons: Lightsaber (hidden in arm compartment)

Azurine’s hand tightened around Aadihr’s arm as she tugged him through the crowd, her laugh bubbling over with a mix of urgency and excitement. The dress she wore was a cascade of fiery hues—gold melting into vibrant oranges, soft blues, and cream, the layers of fabric flowing like flames with her every movement. Intricate golden embroidery shimmered in the low light, accentuating the elegance of her outfit and catching the attention of passersby. They were supposed to meet up with Aris, Zaiya, and whoever else they had extended the invitation to, but she was running a little behind.

Go figure.

She was just glad that the Miralukan had agreed to join them when she'd asked. "I really don't want to miss the fire dance! Master Valery and Aris are supposed to be performing!"

Luckily for Azzie, they arrived just in time. As mesmerizing as it was to watch Grandmaster Valery and Aris perform, the fire moving enchantingly across the stage, it caused the blaze of her soul to crave the same movement. Her master's fiery form glided through the movements, each one a perfect symphony of power and grace, and she wanted to do the same while she had the chance—before the floor was opened to all—even if it was off to the side. The searing heat danced at her fingertips, flickering and sputtering with a life of its own. She stood a few paces back from the stage, out of the way of the rest of the spectators so as to not distract from the event, her posture full of excitement yet determined.

The Force swirled around her like an unseen light, crackling with potential. Her hands moved, hesitant at first but gaining quick confidence with each pass, mimicking Valery’s rhythm along with the beats of the drum. It wasn’t perfect—though it was still beautiful in its own right—but for the first time, it felt alive in a way similar to that of a dancing bonfire. The heat was intoxicating, and Azzie couldn’t help but grin as a spark of joy ignited within her. She could feel the heat, the raw energy, and her heart raced. This wasn’t just fire—it was life, passion, and power.

Mid-spin, Azzie's gaze caught Aadihr’s, his blindfolded gaze seemingly fixated on her with his quiet and gentle intensity. For a heartbeat, everything seemed to pause, the fire swirling around her like a cocoon, and she flashed him a quick, playful wink—even if she knew he couldn't truly see it—to ignore the way her heart seemed to skip.

Azzie spun in a whirlwind of flames, her movements fluid and wild, each step an expression of freedom. She laughed as she moved—a bright, unrestrained sound that echoed through the brisk air. Twirling, she let the flame trail behind her like a ribbon in vibrant arcs of orange and gold. The flames mirrored her motion, free and flickering with excitement. Her eyes gleamed with pure joy, a fire of her own burning brighter with each graceful spin. She wasn’t completely mimicking Valery anymore; her movements taking a life of their own. She was alive in the flames, her spirit unrestrained. The heat of the fire wrapped around her like an embrace.

Aadihr Lidos | Zaiya Ceti | Aris Noble​