Coventry

Jedi Padawan
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Coventry last won the day on June 15 2016

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About Coventry

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  1. Odrania heard the snarls and her red blade went active. "What is it?" she hissed. "It's a...beast..." Coventry answered, thoughtlessly. "Oh, that's a lot of comfort, you not knowing," Odrania spoke. Coventry paused. His original answer had been "I don't know." Odrania had not acknowledged his new answer. So he had an answer as to whether or not he could affect this dream realm, at least, as far as that went. But it still didn't provide an answer as to what he needed to do to escape it. For now...it seemed he had to go along with it. Coventry ventured forward as the lights cut. Headhunter's doing. There had been no choice back then. He had tried to end it peacefully but every moment Headhunter continued to function more rioters died. "Odrania, start destroying every server you can," Coventry hissed, knowing what came next. He went forward shoving his red blade into the nearest server tower. Alarms sounded. The snarling got louder. "Intruder Alert," Headhunter announced. "Central control breached. All available assault teams requested." Coventry chopped through another server tower. "Prisoner Six psychological profile: Withdrawn, insular. Convinced of his ability to overcome Vostok Facility Mission Parameters. Refuses to submit. Intense resilience to psychological trauma, scoring higher than all other inmates. Telepathic assaults generally ineffective. One recorded incident resulted in fatal stroke for interrogator. Emotionally distant," the A.I. noted dispassionately. "Telepathic link to master exploited without success. Analysis of genetic structure suggests a predisposition to schizotypal disorders. Likely only remaining avenue to successfully breaking down prisoner is disillusionment and even that may not turn him to desired cause. Sexual preference unknown, despite repeated interrogatives designed to shame prisoner. Suggest immediate disposal. But the warden never listened. He was determined to cut the knot, so to speak." Coventry ignored the subtle taunt from the machine intelligence, cutting down more towers, while Odrania did the same. The turrets hidden in the ceiling popped out, attempting to target and fire on the two force users, only to explode. "Error. Unknown corruption in program. Suspected sabotage. Requesting maintenance after intruder disposal. "Thanks Mikhail," Coventry said, having not said it before. The Riots simply wouldn't have happened without his help. One man with a conscience COULD make a difference. Mikhail had been the real hero that day, not Carra or Coventry. Part of his insides twisted at what would happen at the riots conclusion. He fought it off, trying to focus on the positive, whatever was happening, it wasn't real. He took small comfort in the fact that as vivid as all this was, it couldn't truly happen again. So he focused on the present, cutting away at another tower. Headhunter had likely had multiple defenses to stop this scenario. The fact he couldn't activate any of them was testament to how effective Mikhail's sabotage was. It was starting to show with Headhunter itself. "You shall go to the fiery furnace of a man's dying heart. A place where only broken love and lost faith and anarchy reign," the Machine said, it's previously calm and computerized voice going erratic, its damaged intelligence warping with nonsensical musings. "The mysterious, unknown, elsewhere shall beckon the flaming sword to be quenched in its waves." Coventry sliced through another tower, ignoring how the dying machines musings seemed to make a twisted sort of sense, though what that was in context to was anyone's guess. The machine was breaking down, saying whatever nonsense jumping up its circuits. "All you know shall disappoint you." One sliced tower toppled into another, sending sparks flying and starting fires. "Is this my Karma?" Odrania got bored and just threw her lightsaber. The arc the red blade made sliced through the remaining towers on her end. "Sorry, that was getting REALLY creepy," she joked. She screamed as the beast leapt out of the darkness, just as Coventry expected. He saw it. The beast. It was scrawny, with a palid white color. It was naked with a wrinkled, barely feminine shape. He thought it had been tortured, whatever it was. It didn't even seem like a person anymore, despite having obviously been a twi'lek. He charged, kicking the snarling beast off of her, dragging Odrania up. The lightsaber was tugged out of his hand with a crude Force pull as the animalistic prisoner leapt on to him. Odrania tried to swing her saber and kill it only for the beast to crudely Force Push her into a wall. Odrania hit her head, knocking her out cold. And Coventry was forced to contend with the creature. The face was as wrinkled and disgusting and wooden as he remembered, but that only added to his surprise as he fought its animal strength. The creature scratched and clawed at him and gave him a look he had never been able to explain until now. It was a look of recognition. Hateful, murderous, dementia riddled, but recognition. And then it went back to trying to bite his face. For his part, Coventry had been too focused on trying to survive the first time around. Now, he was calmer, knowing ultimately it wasn't real, and he found he recognized it also. It was the creature He thought Carra had slain on Hoth.
  2. The pair climbed, the shouts of fighting and whine of blaster fire and gunshot cracks carrying up the shaft of the turbolift. Odrania climbed quickly, and Coventry just a few rungs below her. He went a little slower than he originally had, as he wasn't looking forward to what happened next. He didn't understand what was happening, not at all. The trial was like nothing he had imagined. If this was "facing the mirror" than it was the most cracked, warped mirror possible. He had gotten hints of it in that droid bunker on Tython...a world of flames. Flames of the mind. His mind. In flames. He hadn't understood how to deal with it then, and he did not now. But this was all happening for a reason. He had to trust that the Force had its reasons. That was about the only thing he COULD trust at this point, and hope he wasn't stuck forever in some labyrinthine hell made of his own subconscious. But what was the point of reliving all this? He was distracted by the frustrated snarl of Odrania, who had reached the turbolift door to the level they were supposed to be at. Coventry heard the whine of the turbolift start up. Headhunter had planned that figuring they would find some way to stop it in case it went shooting up with them in it. Odrania heard it first, getting out her lightsaber and shoving it through the door, hacking a square into it, where she could jump through easily after Force pushing the cut away pieces as the turbolift rocketed upward. Coventry hurried up ward as soon as she was through, barely getting past the hole as the turbolift shot past where he had been only a second before. He wondered what would have happened if he had gone off script, stayed on the service ladder...but decided it might not be wise to test whether he could die in this dream. No sense in taking chances, especially since he wasn't entirely clear what was going on. Was he on script or had something gone horribly wrong? Odrania snorted. "You're quick, I'll give you that," she grumbled, looking around her. The room was dark save for the blue running lights of dozens of server towers, circular in shape. They headed upward to a domed ceiling, and the place felt cold, refrigerated. Odrania rubbed her arms as she headed forward to a large, circular computer terminal with a large screen. Coventry knew this next part, and steeled himself. Of all his memories of the Vostok Riot, this was one of the worst. The avatar that served as Headhunter's visual representation, a demon's face wreathed in flames, popped onto the screen. The face was red skinned with yellow eyes, and large black, ram like horns with a slender, sharp and pointed nose. "Prisoner Six," it noted in a hollow, computerized voice. "This scenario was not unanticipated." "Then you know why I am here." "I recommended to the Warden you be executed a few days after you arrived. He did not listen. An error on his part. Your defiance amused him." "Lots of things amuse that prick," Coventry snorted. "Today will not be one of those things. I confess, I am uncertain as to whether you are alive or not...you clearly pass the sentience test. But whatever the case you are still a machine. I don't think I will lose much sleep destroying you. However, as I do not want it said that I made no attempt to end this peacefully, I will offer you the opportunity to do the right thing and disconnect yourself from the security and comm systems." "You're kidding, right? It's a computer," Odrania derided. "If it really is alive, I want to show it more mercy than it ever showed me," Coventry answered without thinking about it. "You know I can't do that, Prisoner Six," Headhunter said. "I thought as much." "I anticipated someone would breach my inner brain. I had a recently acquired prisoner moved here," Headhunter announced. Coventry heard a snarl in the distance, remembered the encounter in horrific detail. "Odrania," he said. "Get your blade out."
  3. Later that day, at least, that day in the illusionary world, Coventry, the false Carra, and the false Kultram, ate pastries at an open air diner, sipping on tea. Pastries were among the few forms of sweets Coventry tolerated... nearly all other forms tasted foul, and revolted him to no end. Coventry was happy like a child as he ate, the dream food tasting as real as anything in the real world. "So Covey," Kultram started, biting into a large cookie. "You wanna explain why you freaked out in that building?" "What's the point?" Coventry asked with a sigh. "It doesn't matter anyway." He looked into the distance of the false orange sunset. "None of this is real." "Real?" Carra inquired gently. "What are you talking about? This is real. We're real." "No you aren't," he said quietly to himself, more as a reminder than anything, looking at the false people eating and talking, voices low enough that he couldn't quite make it out. Convenient. "How many times have I told you, apprentice?" Carra said with that mild chuckle that let him know everything was going to be okay. "Reality is just perception, a meme reinforced by your brain. If your brain is the only measure of what is real, than whatever makes you believe what you are currently experiencing as false is equally as valid as whatever you think is the truth." "But you also said that the Force was a way to help discern reality from fantasy." "Even the Force needs a brain to utilize it for that purpose. So how do you know that this isn't real. People's perception of the world around them changes. So again...how do you know?" "Brother, you should have said something," Kultram said in concern, face creasing with worry and love. "We should get you to the temple. Have the healers look at you--" "Coventry," Carra spoke softly, placing her hand on a now slightly confused Coventry. "What you are experiencing is real. We're here with you. I give you my word." Coventry looked up at her sadly. "I wish all this were not so convincing. Wish Vostok was nothing but some nightmare I had...but..." "Coventry!" snapped Odrania's voice. Coventry turned behind him, watching the Dark Jedi slice through more of the droids and guard personnel. He had thought about trying to stop her but he couldn't fight a battle on two fronts. It was all he could do not to slip to the Dark Side himself. He dodged a scattergun blast from the guard that had accompanied the droids and charged forward, slicing through the weapon and decking the guard with a punch to the jaw, fueled by adrenaline more than natural strength. He fought with flurry of slices through another set of droids, who he didn't hold back against, as they were simple killing machines. He slashed through the target zones relentlessly as the droids surrounded him and Odrania, each slice arcing wide and going through the mid section and unarmored arms of the droids with form one. Vibroblades shot out of their forearms, the deadly vibrating weapons humming towards his throat and stomach but Odrania swiped away at them with a furious Juyo assault and a battle cry while force leaping, landing by him to cover his flank, her erratic strikes slashing at every droid part she could find, with Coventry focusing on the droids trying to fire on them both with slugthrowers, trying to draw their fire away from Odrania, attacking their ranged weapons first, then the melee weapons in wide heavy arcs that went through mechanical arms and legs, then heads. He struggled to maintain his calm as he had that day, to not let the need to survive twist into a desire for revenge, which Vostok was all too good at bringing out. The last droid fell at his hands, the stiff resistance an indication they were on the right path. Odrania snorted, spitting on the droids and kicking them. She stared at the Turbolift in the distance. She headed towards it, signaling him to follow. He did so, feeling the walls somehow close in. As he entered the turbolift, Odrania asked a question. "So what the Kriff is Headhunter?" "Experimental Security and Torture oversight A.I.," he answered. "It analyzes escape attempts and prepares for as many scenarios as possible. It also psychologically analyzes Prisoners for the best way to try and break them. Mikhail said he had managed to introduce some sort of corruption into its subroutines to blind it to what he was doing." "So thats why he was studying programming when he visited," Odrania muttered. "Still wish I hadn't let him talk me into making all those lightsabers." "Why did you let him?" Coventry asked, already knowing her answer, though he felt compelled to ask again for reasons that were a mystery to him. "I got my reasons," was the only answer she had given so long ago, and it was the same answer she gave now as she hit a button labeled HEADHUNTER CENTRAL CONTROL. "What they're doing here is insane," she growled absently, saying no more as they headed upward...only to stop as Headhunter locked down the elevator controls. Coventry's lightsaber sliced up into the roof. He had gotten used to the greater strength required to wield it and manipulated the blade easily as he cut a hole large enough to leap through, letting the cut piece of roof fall to the floor. Odrania leapt first, pulling him up soon after with rather impressive arm strength, and they both started to climb the service ladder upward. Coventry groaned. He remembered the climb, how long it had taken, sighing as he began the ascent behind Odrania. "If you stare at my ass Jedi, I will cut you," Odrania snarled. "How encouraging," he muttered. "Will that be all, my dear?" "Kriff you," she replied, focusing on climbing.
  4. "At least twenty," Kultram asked, his fiery sapphire blade activating. "Are you sick or something?" "No. I'm good to go," Coventry answered, the question in the back of his head rising up to trouble him as to what was real and what wasn't. He clamped down on that question. Hard. His escape had been real. Forseti biting it recently, as horrid as that had been, had been real. Forseti had deserved better, and he'd gotten shavit. But the ones the order really needed, he had noticed, tended to get claimed by the Force disturbingly often. And the Force didn't deal in 'deserved'. You took what it gave. End of story. Coventry wondered why the Force or perhaps, simply, his mind, kept ripping him away from his script and dropping him in this strange otherplace. It made no sense. But there had to be some point. It was...a mystery. Coventry took his staff off his belt, feeling its weight. He remembered how it felt, having built it to his size when he was twelve. He had constructed it in Carra's presence. He flicked the activation buttons. Both blades shot out, one blue, one green, due to the fact that internally, past the singular hilt casing, it was two seperate lightsabers, just like Carra's. She had cautioned him against building a staff with only one crystal...you cut it in half, you destroy the crystal, you were screwed. Such designs should only be for hybrid staff weapons designed to look like single bladed hilts at a distance. He had taken the advice to heart. He spun, surprised by how happy he was to hold it. It had been his first effort. It would always have a special place in his memory. It was one of his happiest memories where Carra was concerned. They had braved Ilum to obtain them. It had taken him hours to construct the blade. The blades gave a low hum as he twirled them experimentally. He was happy to be fighting alongside his brother, even if it was just some warped conjuring of his own head. The memory of Kultram's pain as he begged him not to leave Vornu had quietly haunted him during his training on Vornu. He had never acknowledged it. Maybe that had been his mistake. He had never been good at addressing anything to do with his brother. Complicating matters was the fact that it was Kultram, personally, who had retrieved him from his cell. It was Kultram, personally, whose actions had released the prisoners from their cell blocks, leading to the prison getting its Karma when it had burned to the ground. It was Kultram's actions that had allowed them to escape. Coventry would have been a liar if he said he wasn't grateful for all of that. That he didn't wish he had some of his older brother's decisiveness, his charisma...though he would not have utilized it in the same manner. As he heard shouting he rushed out, followed closely by Kultram. The criminals were armed with swords and blasters. He rushed forward, ignoring the cold sweat drenching the upper front of his robe, the way his black hair was matted to his scalp. Quick blaster shots from rifles caused Coventry to sink into a crude Form One stance, before charging into the fray, crudely batting aside the bolts with clumsy looking swipes from his staff, getting close to the shooter and cleaving the weapon in half, kicking his attacker in the face, bolting towards another three shooters and slicing their weapons in two as well, taking some of the armored criminals fingers in the process. They screamed, but Coventry slammed his fist into the jaw of one while delivering a grazing cut with his saber to the other two. Kultram leaped into the fray with his own more impassioned display of form one, slicing through weapons, force jumping over attackers and cutting a hand or foot off, but otherwise leaving his opponents alive. He had never liked to take chances, even as a boy. That was what Coventry remembered the most about his childhood where his brother was concerned...Kultram had always been the bold one, the fearless one, the one who took more risks than those around him. It had frustrated their dad greatly, unable to curb Kultram's risk taking behavior. The pair defended and fought together back to back, and Coventry realized with no small amount of pain, that this was one of his secret desires: to fight side by side as Jedi, to reach Kultram's heart...somehow...to hope there was something to reach... They moved in unison, slicing and chopping crudely through weapons and hands, though showing mercy at all points, never exerting more force than necessary. He then heard the snap hiss of another lightsaber, neither his nor Kultram's, when there were but five criminals left. In spite of how disturbed he was, how unsettled by this bizarre back and forth, he couldn't stop the heartfelt smile that crossed his face when he saw Carra Bhakti force jump over the criminals from behind, slicing through their weapons and roundhouse kicking them into eachother, force pushing the remaining two into the walls of the office cubicles. She looked exactly the same as she had before they had both been captured. She was blond, with curly hair, ocean blue eyes and a face that looked sculpted from some artist. Her robes were a soft white with a purple floral pattern. And she was using the very same staff he now used in real life. "Carra!" he said, not able to hide the joy in his dream voice, ignoring the sliver of reality tugging at his brain, reminding, albeit gently, that none of this was real. But he would not hear it. Facts would not rob him of this moment. Carra turned to look at him, smiling warmly. "Coventry, you look terrible. Coruscant a tad hot today or are you trying to get back into shape after eating one cream donut too many?" she joked gently. Coventry remembered that while cookies had been Kultram's vice, pastries had been his. "I...I've been under some stress," he admitted. "But its good you are here. Lets get these hostages to safety. Then...we all grab some food...sound good?"
  5. Open RP

    Coventry watched the both of them, tracking their movements. He tried to guess what their next tactic would be...pure offense, or something more subtle, like they had been doing. Thuria was the far more patient one...she had waited for the perfect moment to attack. Inoy was the cunning one in this though...his feint left than go right took Coventry nearly by surprise just as Thuria made a fast swipe for his blade on the left. Coventry twirled slightly in an interception pattern that glided both blades out of their respective targets, one blade parrying Inoy's and forcing it toward Thuria's shoulder, even as he darted to Thuria's left, swiping with his right blade and forcing it toward Inoy's leg, even as he directed a swipe towards Thuria's chest to force he toward Inoy's direction and crowd him, hopefully making it more difficult for him to manuever around.
  6. Coventry and Odrania moved forward, Odrania cutting down the guards in a murderous rage, deflecting stray bolts with his Shii-Cho, crudely advancing with choppy, sloppy attacks that severed limb from torso, slicing weapons to pieces. He tried not to kill, but it occasionally happened. He had been weakened by torture, and was barely hanging on to sanity. He was lucky he was not feral, like some of the other prisoners were, slicing through prison staff with abandon. Even those that had not given in didn't seem to broken up when a guard fell to them by happenstance. All that mattered was that this place get destroyed and the Warden die at their hands. He enacted the crude motions he had used that day, his excellent recall having captured each moment against his will. He recalled nearly every moment of consciousness in Vostok. It was a side effect of his bloodlines mental resistance to telepathic intrusion...near perfect recall. Desperaux's remember everything in near perfect detail, even while they were given the strength to shoulder that burden. Coventry didn't know how well he shouldered that burden, whether this nightmare was the beginning of the end or whether it was a sign of progress. Coventry delivered a kick to a riot guard that had come too close with a vibrosword, the vibrating edge barely missing his face. He sliced through the guard's left hand, disarming him, but otherwise leaving him alive. He couldn't speak for what would happen when another prisoner got to him. That wasn't his problem. There was simply no way of controlling how badly the prisoners wanted payback. Again and again, he had wondered if it had been wise to even instigate the riot. But what had they all been supposed to do, be tortured until they died or joined the Sith? All Coventry knew was that he was tired at the time. He didn't want to die in that cell. All that was in that cell was the entrance to Perdition, to a world of flames and pain. The walls, as before seemed to loom above the and close in, the alarm klaxon blaring at high pitch, metalic tones in a repeating sequence of three times every five seconds. "You think you can take ME, YOU SONS A SCHUTTAS! I AM LORD OF THIS DOMAIN! I OWN YOUR LIVES! I. WILL. CRUSH YOU!" The Warden shouted in challenge over the announcement system "Bring it on! Do your WORST! DO YOUR ABSOLUTE DAMN WORST! I AM NOT AFRAID OF YOU! I WILL NEVER BE AFRAID OF YOU!" "This kriff needs to die," Odrania snarled, butchering another guard in a blood haze. She savagely sliced through three guards with vibrostaves, clearly lost in the rage of the Dark Side. Coventry cut off the leg of a guard that had been about to shoot a fellow prisoner in the back, the guards agonized scream shook Coventry to the core as he did it, especially since those screams only got louder when the other prisoners started hacking away at him with their blades. His stomach lurched. This was why he didn't kill unless necessary. And this was why if he did, he always tried to kill quickly and painlessly. He should have done it himself. The guard had suffered horribly, even if it was his own karma coming back to render the wages of his sins in this evil place. He sliced through another arm, then a leg, then another arm holding a slugthrower. He was starting to encounter more guards with those. They were starting to break out anti lightsaber weapons. Seems they were prepped for even a scenario like this, though given the disparity and infrequency of encounters, he had surmised they were more for repelling rescue attempts, against limited numbers of Jedi, not suppressing an internal riot where nearly all prisoners were armed with lightsabers. "We have to get to the Warden's office!" Coventry shouted at Odrania and a few others. "Why?!" The Rattataki woman shouted. "The Prison A.I., Headhunter!" Coventry answered. "Its directing staff resistance! If we can sabotage it we can affect the guards ability to coordinate a defense!" "The ships are in the north!" Odrania protested, slicing through another guard. "You'll never leave this planet if Headhunter is directing the anti-spacecraft turrets!" He shouted back, slicing the hand off a guard and punching him out, recalling everything he had said that day, the way he had said it, with a disturbing precision and compulsion he did not understand. He only knew it was important he do so. Not why. "Oh, fine," Odrania said with faux exasperation, cutting off a guard's head. She bounded after him as he went into another wing of the facility. He knew what came next but could not stop it. The Combat Droids came out of hidden recesses in the walls, modeled on Krath war droids but made smaller and smarter for Vostok's purposes, painted a deep red and armed with vibroblades and scatterguns built into their arm. Odrania had seen them decloak before he could react and hurled him into a nearby open cell with the Force before diving in to avoid the automatic scattergun fire from the skeletal, faceless warbots, which cut down the prisoners that had followed to cover them. He had never figured out why Odrania, a darksider, had done that. ..had saved his life. She had certainly had no reason to. He doubted she even needed his help. For her part, she had never explained her reasons, merely getting up from her own dive into the cell and hurling lightning at the droids, cooking some and ramming the rest into the walls with telekinesis. She helped him up. "Don't get all mushy on me. I don't need your thanks," she snapped, saber going active and bolting out of the cell. Coventry sighed and followed, walking through the open door... ...and finding himself back in the strange skyscraper. With his brother shaking him. "Covey, you alright?!" Kultram asked. "Why didn't you keep an eye for reinforcements? I sense them heading our way! We need to protect them!" he exclaimed, gesturing to the still bound hostages. "H-how many?" He asked, realizing he was drenched in sweat.
  7. Everyone got behind the cover of durasteel tables as bullets whistled through the area. "We're pinned down!" Coventry yelled at Luke the way he had when it actually occurred. Luke, having once been a shadow, shrouded herself with the Force, going invisible. The guards firing the machine guns were then ruthlessly sliced in half lengthwise, split between the legs. Coventry felt a surge of guilt at not feeling anything over the matter. He had recognized those guards. They had personally broken his ribs. How do you summon compassion for someone like that? The Jedi Code commands compassion for all living things, but how do you summon compassion for people who lived to make every waking moment of your life agony? He had tried, the first few months he was here. He felt it wasted. They neither wanted compassion or pity...what was the point? In all the months of his training that question had danced around in the back of his mind, but he had never tried to address it. Wasn't it enough that he didn't hate them? Wasn't it enough that he didn't want revenge? Wasn't that enough? A surge of bitterness at the question took him by surprise. He was unfamiliar with addressing it, unsure how to use the Jedi Code to banish it. He thought of his brother as the pantomime played out, Luke decloaking as Odrania got out from behind cover. Kultram had done what anyone BUT a Jedi would have done had they both the drive and the skill: His actions had utterly destroyed this place. Coventry was not sorry to have watched the Devil claim the structure, his flames licking and consuming the roof, spreading to the walls. Coventry realized at that moment he identified with certain sentiments his brother had about justice, about the law of Karma, more than he wanted to admit or indulge in. Moral justice commanded that Vostok be put to the torch and rendered unto the domain of hell and its ruler. But ethical justice, what the Order espoused, would have tried to avoid unforgiving total destruction. Coventry realized at that moment when it came to Vostok, he flatly disagreed with such a sentiment. Vostok had earned its destruction a thousand times over. But as he stared at the bodies he couldn't figure out why he was not secure in that sentiment. He didn't want to be his brother. He knew that. His brother was an idealist who made no room for reality. As a Jedi in training, Coventry did not have that luxury. A Jedi has to follow the will of the force...even if its will be that the Jedi in question becomes life's chew toy. He didn't want to be his brother. Had he not refused to detonate the explosives in the cave on Ando Prime? Had he not refused to condemn a helpless man to a painful and pointless execution? So why was it he found himself sympathizing with his brother's mindset when he found himself here? In his single most horrible memory. Carra's fate whispered in the back of his skull. He pulled himself away from that moment, not ready to face it. He realized he was breathing hard, the memory so raw... He snapped to attention as Odrania went to check on Mikhail. "Mik, you ok?" she asked in a husky voice. "I said I'll be fine," Mikhail answered. "Good," Odrania snapped. "Because this is the last time I do you any favors THIS big. We escape this you better not come around my swamp for a while...I won't be happy to see you," she warned. "I'm glad you're ok too," he muttered, chuckling darkly. Odrania rolled her eyes. 'Yeah yeah, me too." She turned to Luke. "Where the hell are we in Vostok and where are the Ships?" "We're in the South Wing of the facility. The hangers are up north," the Nagai woman answered Odrania. "And they are being guarded by every dumbass that wants to die for this pile of shavit. "Point me in the direction of the enemy. They will die for this insult." Odrania looked ready to kill. "Coventry, I'll get Mikhail back on his feet. You go with Odrania and get to checkpoint seven. The other Prisoners are trying to advance on a turret nest," Luke ordered. "What are you waiting for, Go!" Coventry broke off into a run and Odrania followed. He sprinted through the corridors, while the voice of the Warden played over the P.A. system. "So," came the smug voice of an aristocrat. "The lot of you finally decided to grow a pair, eh? Oh, come now, why bother pretending it wasn't going to come to this? We both hate one another, and we both know we've been wanting to have it out. Just as well. I've been needing to free up some cells and tormenting you all was getting boring...you are all familiar with my techniques, so you're all used to them. It loses some of the 'Oomph' after a while. Don't worry! No reinforcements are coming! I have not sent for them. I want you all to myself for the next few hours...one last, grand, mass torture," the Warden said menacingly, as Coventry came upon a turn where prisoners with lightsabers were being blown back by turret shots. Coventry darted forward, summoning the sphere, Carra Bhakti's signature technique. The turret bolts impacted against it and Odrania hid behind it, unleashing multiple bolts of lightning in the direction of the guards operating it. Coventry moved forward along with other Prisoners, no one caring what alignment the person next to them had in the Force. Not today. Because only one overriding thing dominated every prisoner who suffered here: Kriff Vostok.
  8. Coventry and Kultram made their way down a flight of stairs, hearing shouting. "They're gonna kill the hostages soon," Kultram muttered. "We don't act now, they're dead." "How many criminals are we talking?" Coventry whispered. "At least ten left," Kultram answered back as quietly. "What are their demands?" "Not sure, Coventry, We only got the call from the cops a few minutes before it came out on the news," Kultram answered. "I see," Coventry replied. "Well, let's not keep them waiting." "Really? That's the best you can do for a one liner?" Kultram joked. "I never was much of a zinger," Coventry said back with a ready grin, which felt strange at how willing he had been to give one. Even when he smiled at Inoy, it was reluctant, because he didn't like smiling. He wasn't proud of that, wasn't proud of how...frozen...he was when it came to expressing himself. It had never been easy for him to talk anything but business, even when he had been with Carra as his teacher. He took after his master's stoicism, though even Carra could be warm and friendly when she wanted to be. He had never been the guy people liked to talk to. He had never been built that way. Coventry took point, staff in his hand, and he spotted armored criminals with blaster rifles in another conference room. He saw a group of hostages, about five in all, tied with ropes and huddled in a corner with gags. "I'll set it up. You keep an eye out for reinforcements," Kultram instructed. Coventry froze at those words, turning slowly... ...he wasn't in the skyscraper anymore... He was instead in Test Chamber A. The alarms were blaring, the Siren lights flashing crimson in a strobe effect that danced on the walls and ceiling. "ATTENTION, PRISON STAFF...THIS IS A LEVEL 10 ALERT. MASS BREAKOUT IN PROGRESS. REINFORCEMENTS NEEDED IN CELL BLOCKS A, B, C, D, E, F..." The computerized voice of the Prison's electronic security A.I., Headhunter, announced. "TURRET'S DEPLOYED AT ALL SECURITY JUNCTURE'S... "Coventry, you hear me? I said keep an eye out for reinforcements," Coolhand muttered, slicing one of the test subjects restraints off with her blade. He looked around, remembering this place intimately. The testing tables where they restrained prisoners. They had been researching central nervous systems, from what he could gather. They were lined up against the walls exactly he remembered. He went over to his table, the one where they always put him when testing his pain responses. It was empty. He remembered the clinical way they had spoken as they injected him with drugs. Coventry didn't realize he remembered the pain so clearly, remembered every scar, and how it had gotten there, until his fist was clenched, seizing at a memory of how the scientists had injected something that made him him hallucinate terrifying things for over two hours. A dozen nameless drugs, known only by their effect. All pain, all of specific, succinct variety. Hell, different genre's. He unclenched it, refusing to become angry. He didn't want to give even the memory of this place the satisfaction. He instead guarded with his synthetic red blade. He remembered this blade intimately also. He had killed three guards with this, when he had taken the test chamber. Crude Shii-Cho attacks. He looked around the vast chamber filled with restraint tables and cabinets of drugs and computer stations. He spotted the one's he had killed that day, still in the exact spots they had fallen failing to defend this place from him and Luke. Luke shouted for his help and Coventry went immediately to her side. She was undoing the restraints on a man Coventry had known well. Mikhail Ulfberht, a human from a planet called Castell. He was shorter than Coventry, with dark hair in a ponytail. His skin was a brown tan, bruised and bloodied by hours of torture, swelling on his face. He had been discovered at last, sneaking food into a prisoner's cell. That was what had prompted the idea to stage the riot a day early...the ringleaders of the breakout worried he would talk, Carra included. Mikhail was a reminder that even the cruelest most unforgiving place can occasionally contain one decent soul who would act on his conscience...Mikhail had claimed he had been sent here from the academy, and for the first few months, had followed orders diligently. It was the nightmares, he claimed, that had eventually gotten to him. The dreams he would have of victim's chasing him. He had started sneaking food in to individual prisoners, and had eventually become essential to planning the breakout. He had snuck lightsabers into their cells, stealing equipment to make them and using a Force adept off site sympathetic to his cause to make synthetic blades. That Force adept had been captured also...apparently a Dark Jedi having a crisis of conscience. How Mikhail had gotten in tight with a Dark Jedi, much less appealed to that Dark Jedi's better nature and succeed was any one's guess. Mikhail himself had never revealed much on the subject. Coventry had guessed the man had called in a serious favor...and that Force user had owed him so phenomenally that they couldn't help but do it. In spite of knowing this was all the diseased reminiscence of his subconscious, Coventry went over to him. "Mikhail?" he called out gently, shaking him, already knowing the answer he would get. "Can you walk?" Mikhail coughed a bit, spitting up blood. "I'm good," he replied, wincing, staring out of his good eye, the tissue around the other too swollen to see out of. He stood up, shuddering in pain. "Get the other one," Luke instructed. Coventry nodded, wondering why he bothered with this pantomime...hadn't this already happened? He had not understood what had made him write this into the script...Vostok lingered like a bad sore in his mind. The most succinct reasoning he could give to himself upon completion was he wanted to excise it, somehow... Coventry went over to the only other table that had contained a prisoner. It was a female rattataki with wiry, muscular features. She had been in Vostok for only a few hours, as far as he could tell. Fresh meat still looked defiant. It would have faded in time. She was shaved bald, clad in a gray prisoners outfit. She was awake, had a black eye and needle marks on her arm. "Get. Me. Out. Of. Here," she snarled. She looked barely out of her teens. "You on your side, or ours?" he asked, as he had before. "We don't work together, none of us escape." "I'm gonna kill as many of these gorram guards I can get my hands on," she snapped. "Let's burn this place to the ground..." Coventry opened the restraints by hitting a switch on the side of the table. "Got a name?" Coventry had asked, as Luke tossed her another lightsaber hanging from her belt. The Rattataki snapped the synthetic red blade on. "Odrania," she answered, just as four armed prison security teams burst through a wall, firing machine guns.
  9. Coventry blinked, not quite certain as to what happened but he played along. There had to be a reason. There was always a reason. Always. Coventry began to hook up to the fastening point they had drilled into the roof. The sun shown down from high up, casting a mild peach color across the cityscape. It was curiously silent, despite the presence of the usual number of airspeeders in their set lanes. He felt a cool wind blowing across his face. He stared at Kultram in obvious surprise. No trace of the Dark Side, like he had felt happen. "What's the matter? You look like a nerf in speeder headlights." "I'm...fine," Coventry responded, still shocked by how normal he sounded. "You don't seem fine...wanna sit this one out? I can cover it, it'll just take me longer." "No, I'm on mission," Coventry reassured his brother, still not entirely sure where his mind was going with this. He approached the edge, the wind cool and pleasant. Kultram approached the edge as well. "Ready? We Force push the window in, take them down with Shii-Cho. On three...two...one..." They both repelled down the building, dropping four stories in a matter of seconds and Coventry slowed the rope to a stop as they reached the level seventh from top. Both held out their hands, making sure no one was on the other side before delivering the strongest Force push possible. The window popped open and they both swung forward and cut their rappel lines as they landed in what looked to be a conference room. It was cherry red, with paintings of a flaming sword, like he'd seen in a particularly morbid children's anthology once, on Hoth. He stared, getting a better look at Kultram's lightsaber. He was surprised to see it was a white version of his own long handled single bladed hilt that he used in the real world. The hilt was a hospital white, but the eye was different on the large emitter shroud. It was black, surrounded by a black diamond shape. He moved quietly, and Coventry followed, stopping where Kultram ordered, both drawing their blades. Coventry raised an eyebrow as as sapphire blade wreathed in flames sprouted. "They're just outside," he said. "Hey what was that?" he heard on the other side as Kultram shut off the lightsaber. Coventry tensed, waiting, as the door slowly opened. He threw a punch, making the criminal stumble backward, and into the grasp of Kultram. Coventry tensed, prepared to stop Kultram if he went too far. Kultram instead put him in a sleeper hold, rendering the man in black armor with graying buzzcut and goatee with dark skin struggled before he lost consciousness. Coventry smiled. No more than the max amount of force necessary to render someone incapacitated. "Your Stava lessons have been helping," Kultram whispered wryly with a grin. "Oh, so you take direction now?" Coventry joked back, in spite of himself. He felt his response was odd, suddenly. He usually wasn't that ready to crack a joke. Most of the time he had no sense of humor. Even Inoy, his closest friend, usually didn't get more than a crooked grin. Kultram went out the door first and Coventry moved quietly behind him. The floor had soft carpeting though...little danger of loud noises. Coventry spotted the second man patrolling the hall way with his back to him. Coventry dashed forward with the Force, stopping just behind him as he turned... ...revealing himself to be that burly Vostok guard that had regularly beaten him in his cell. Coventry froze, uncertain as to what was going on...what to do... The guard smirked, eyes malevolent, as he cocked his fist back for a blow. He was somehow in the Gray uniform of the Vostok guards. Coventry dodged the first blow, caught the second, twisting the arm into a lock behind his back, putting him in a sleeper hold and letting him struggle for a moment before he lost consciousness. Coventry dropped him, unsure how he felt about the moment. He could never stop the prick from nearly busting his jaw before. He had almost not told Kultram to stop hitting him back when he had busted out. But taking the high ground that day had felt...empty. Coventry had never admitted that to himself before now. He had tried to seperate his mind from the emotion associated with all that the guard had done to him. But the man had been sadistic and evil to the core, just like the warden. Coventry couldn't even bring up pity for the man's nature. He could feel empathy for people who'd fallen on hard times, the people who let their vices get the better of them. The people who had used to be paragons of virtue but had descended into evil, sometimes from very real injustices they had suffered until they simply couldn't take it anymore. But for the guard...the first time Coventry had looked into his eyes he could tell there had been no gradual decline, no fall from grace...he had always been that way. Thus, Coventry spared nothing for him. There would have been no point. The man was a psychopath. Coventry stared, not feeling any real resolution. He recalled Tongg's dying warning. He knew it was good advice, and he experienced a sense of shame that a part of him didn't want to listen. He could eventually forgive the Republic for their heinous act on Tython...but he had lost what small trust he had held for them. Was that his darkness, he wondered, or part of it? Was that what he was to face in this other world? If so, why was he not facing it immediately? Everyone had darkness. Everyone. No one was completely pure. That was the Consulars burden. They were close to the nature of the force, studied it's intricacies more...the danger of emotion, and the temptation to succumb to it an ever present issue. He has not succeeded in making Kultram understand. Why couldn't he make him understand-- "Hey!" Kultram hissed, clearly concerned. "Why'd you freeze?" "You don't recognize him?" Coventry asked, turning to him. "No," Kultram answered, looking perplexed. "Then again, I never was too good at telling Kel-Dor apart..." Coventry turned back to the unconscious figure. It was a Kel-Dor, not the guard in Coventry's cell. "Shavit," he muttered.
  10. Coventry called upon the Jedi code to ease his mind as they approached the destroyed area that had once been the room of a thousand fountains. He had seen pictures, once, before his capture at the hands of the Sith, he'd often dreamed of walking around inside it. His own private mental retreat. He hoped he lived to see it rebuilt, it's beauty restored, so he could meditate within it for real, because it had been destroyed before his time. "I've been doing this a long time Padawan, helping students through this trial. I have to warn you...I have not always succeeded. Some students cannot handle the ugliest aspects in their own being," Gojo warned him as they made their trek. "I know the dangers of the trial. I know the dangers to my mind." "It is one thing to be aware of a threat as it's abstract...it is quite another to experience it personally. Even I was not prepared for what I saw." "What did you see, Master Kurak? If it isn't prying too much?" Gojo looked at him. "Perhaps if your trial is successful, I will tell you." Coventry nodded respectfully. "Fair enough." They at last reached the vast ruins. He saw plants sprouting up through cracks in the ground. The Force was strong here, even in the area's decrepitude. And the presence of Jedi was slowly purifying its flow. The Jedi had suffered a catastrophic setback in the ruination of the Coruscant temple. A tragic loss of life, to say nothing of how humiliating it had been. In those days, the menace of the Dark Side had never seemed stronger... And yet...in spite of all that...life went on...plants still grew. It was this fact, that to Coventry, exposed the lies the Sith told of the Dark Side's supremacy. Because no matter how much of a tantrum they threw, it seemed, the flow of life always seemed to correct itself. The Sith had smashed the headquarters, slaughtered their best, butchered their leaders. It would have been the end for nearly any other organization. But The Sith had hit them with maybe the hardest blow they could...and they still could not kill them. They had tried covert methods...overt methods...combinations of both...and The Jedi were still here, growing stronger. The Force balanced itself in the end. It always had. It always would. He took some comfort in that realization, seeing even those small plants. The world would go on. The Force would go on. Coventry spotted a crack surrounded by a ring of small plants. That was it, that was the spot. Coventry pointed to it. "There," he said. "That's where I want to start." "You are certain?" Gojo asked. "I am." Gojo nodded. Coventry stepped carefully over the ring of plants, settling into the lotus position. Gojo sat across from him. "To face the mirror, we must go into deep meditation. Deeper than any you have ever experienced before. Close your eyes...deep breaths..." Coventry did so, breathing slowly and deeply. "Good luck, Padawan..." Gojo said. "I thought masters didn't believe in luck," Coventry spoke. "Most of the time we don't believe in it. Truly random, yet favorable entropy is rare...but happens. And while you must always put your faith in the Force, it doesn't hurt to want the universe's dice to roll you a seven during times like this," Gojo joked. This earned a rare chuckle from the otherwise stoic Padawan. He resumed his meditation, breathing deeply. "Sink within the Force...and continue sinking," Gojo told him. Coventry emptied his mind, sinking. He began to feel the outer sensations dull. It reminded him of how he started to process his more vivid dreams. He could control and remember most if not all his dreams, like all descendants of Despiar Lucid-Dreamer. The ground underneath him began to not be noticed. "Deeper..." Gojo whispered, voice starting to slow down. Coventry lost his sense of touch. "Deeeeeppperrr..." The sense of smell went next. "Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppppppeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..." Gojo's voice called out from some distant place, now so slow it was like it was being manipulated by a computer. Coventry sank deep into the depth of his mindscape...and kept sinking... *** He was in the cell, and a half second of panic ensued...had it all been a dream? Was he still in the cell? Had he never left in the first place? Was Inoy, Thuria, Tongg...just horrible dreams a disintegrating mind told itself to give it companionship? He looked about, almost frantic at the idea...he checked his wrists looking for the sores the shackles left...only to realize he was still in his robes. He checked the robes...they felt real...he felt real. He checked the knowledge in his head...it didn't seem contrived... An amber lightsaber blade but through the cell door. He heard shouting outside. Alarms ringing. He knew this moment. Burned into his memory like one of the scars of his skin. The scars that were so bad he almost resembled a burn victim without his robes on. He stated as the door was force pulled away. And in she strode. Luke Coolhand, aka Lucky Seven, the only one besides him and Carra still openly defying the Warden's attempts to break prisoners. She was once a Jedi Shadow, the daughter of an escape artist from Castell. Keyword: Once. She got the name Lucky Seven both because she had a tattoo of a gray seven on her left cheek, her skin was pale, being a Nagai. Very pale and she had messy, curly her black hair. Her eyes were gone, cut out by the warden, who had also carved the number seven in a rage across her whole body after she spat in his face. She was clad in dark blue armor, and was carrying a synthetic red blade, which she tossed him, having killed one of the Sith Torturers beforehand for it. She was beautiful, somehow, still. "Coventry Desperaux. It's time," she spoke. "We must act quickly," he said tonelessly, unable to help himself. He remembered, having kept himself strong with smuggled food from that traitorous guard. "Carra's in position," Coolhand said. "Vostok's reckoning is upon us." "Yes, it is. We have only one shot at this," he repeated without the heart he had had for it the first time. In the day the riots happened, his major concern was not spending one more day, one more hour, being tormented. The edge of sanity. Desperation. Coventry stepped forward. Through the cell, bracing himself for the familiar... ...and found himself in the top of a skyscraper in Coruscant, with a rappel line. "Yo, Covey! You ready?" called out a familiar voice. Coventry turned around. It was Kultram...clad in dark blue robes, in contrast to his dark green. He felt something on his belt. He checked and was stunned to see his lightsaber...his original lightsaber. It was a durasteel staff nominally, but had been crafted with a distinctly insect like aesthetic, the emitter shrouds reminiscent of gossamer wings on butterflies. The blade guards like bent insect legs, the main body having off but not uncomfortable recesses. This blade, unlike every other blade he had built after, did not have an eye motif like the schematic he had built his magenta blade with. "C'mon, bro. Those hostages aren't going to save themselves!" Kultram exclaimed. "Coming, brother," he said, stopping in surprise as he heard his own voice, which was young and clear, rather than that damaged voicebox he had spent his whole life with. Coventry was now concerned. He had know the trial would be difficult but not this. Gojo hadn't been kidding... Except... He HADN'T included this, or anything like it, in this script...
  11. The Padawan meditated in his dorm, waiting for the master assigned to him. He kept calm, his typical pazaak face present. Today was it. The day. He had not been looking forward to it. In his opinion he was about to undertake the single most dangerous part of his training. The Spirit Trial. He was going to look into the abyss of his own mind and face whatever was squirming around in its recesses. He had completed the script he was asked to write the day before, writing only what was within, in a gently cursive hand that was still legible. He had prepared it by hand, on flimsi, rather than type it in a datapad. That was how important this was. He had heard tales of those who failed the trial...their minds shattered, in permanent catatonia. This was a very dangerous undertaking. Even a Desperaux's mind could not guarantee it's own integrity in the face of the trials stresses. Best case scenario if he failed hard was he'd be reduced to a babbling wreck, unable to even build a lightsaber. Worst case...well...there were worse things then being a babbling wreck. Coventry had drawn up a schematic. A schematic of a curved hilt. Copies of which he had signed and sent to Inoy and Thuria in case the worst happened as a gift, along with his best wishes. He did not view himself as a pessimist, merely a realist. At last he sensed the presence of a Jedi Master...only a master could have such a strong signature. He opened his eyes, rising, clad in his usual dark green robes. The master was a mirialan man, with short cut dark hair, a round face, blue eyes, and wore long, flowing dark blue robes. "Padawan Desperaux? I am Gojo Kurak. I'm a telepathy specialist assigned to you for your spirit trial. Are you ready? What you are about to undertake is very dangerous. Many fail this trial." Gojo explained, his voice deep and authorative. Coventry bowed. "I am, Master Kurak." "Have you a complete script?" Coventry went over to his desk and retrieved the handwritten script. Gojo flipped over a few pages of it, eyebrow raising slightly. "Very well then, accompany me to the ruins." Coventry straightened up, and followed the middle ages Jedi out of his dorm, his lightsabers left behind. They would not help him here.
  12. Character Skills and Abilities Force Powers Enhancement Force Jump Force Dash Restoration Force Mend ⇉ Force Heal Protection Force Absorb Force Armor Force Sphere Astral Force Sense Perception ~ Psychokinesis Telekinesis: Expert Telekinetic Combat: Novice (Lightsaber Only) Hydrokinesis: Novice Force Push ⇉ Force Whirlwind ⇉ Force Wave Force Rend Lightsaber Throw Environment Plant Surge Skills Lightsaber Novice Single Saber ⇉ Intermediate Single Saber ⇉ Expert Single Saber Novice Dual Saber ⇉ Intermediate Dual Saber Novice Saber Staff ⇉ Intermediate Saber Staff Novice Lightwhip Form I: Novice Shii-Cho Form II: Novice Makashi ⇉ Form II: Intermediate Makashi Form III: Novice Soresu Form V: Novice Shien Form VI: Novice Niman Martial Arts Martial Arts: Basic K'tara Martial Arts: Basic Stava
  13. Skills, Abilities and Talents: Coventry prefers to specialize in the lightsaber, training in multiple styles and is developing his immense talent at psychokinetics. He eschews all but the most basic telepathy studies, feeling even most Light side practices in this area are immoral, and intensely manipulative. He studied martial arts and his looking to move into solid and ranged weaponry. Strong connection to the Force like his brother. Also like all Desperauxs he has a natural, strong resistance to all but the most powerful telepathic attacks. Biography: A scion of the infamous Desperaux Family, who have given their children to the Jedi Order for generations, Coventry was separated from his family when he was two, training in the temple and eventually apprenticed to the Jedi Cares Bhakti, who did much to instill the stoicism the Padawan exhibits to this day. His life took a horrible turn when he was captured along with his master by Imperial special forces, and taken to a Sith Blacksite known as Vostok Prison, where he was tortured and experimented on for a long time until rescued personally by his brother, who led a brutal assault on the complex and was directly responsible for its subsequent destruction. Freed, he soon expressed a desire to return to the order to the immense heartbreak and frustration of his brother, who begged him not to leave. The strain of freedom and the terrible memories eventually took their toll and resulted in a nightmarish hallucination of his dead master Carra, causing an emotional breakdown that led to him fleeing Tython. Jakar Forseti retrieved him however and he then was retrained under a more watchful eye, and at this point his talent at combat became noted, resulting in his cross training in multiple lightsaber forms and styles and finding a preference for Makashi. After the bombing of Tython where he lost his second master, Coventry continues to train, but with very little trust for the Republic due to their role in murdering his second master.
  14. Name: Coventry Rasputin Desperaux Gender: Male Species Human Corellian Force rank: Jedi Padawan Date of Birth 3656 BBY. 25 years old. Appearance: While his brother inherited his father's features, Coventry inherited his mother's looks. He is tall, with fair skin and very black hair that is short cut. He is also facially wise far more handsome than his brother. However most of his body is scarred from Sith torture, leaving him covered up to his neck most of the time. Only his face and skin above the wrists remain unscarred. Personality: Coventry does not trust easily, and does not make friends casually. He does not follow the Jedi Order unthinkingly, and will question many decisions...but privately, and to himself. He is the ice to Karter's fire, and can seem cold and almost robotic, and prefers a mechanical mindset. But for those who get to know the person beneath the surface, such as Inoy, Coventry will often display more than superficial signs of humanity and is extremely loyal to those he brings himself to call friend. Like his brother, he is repulsed by institutional hypocrisy and incompetence in his leaders. He doesn't use the Force casually, only calling on it in times of extreme necessity. If he can solve a problem using his own two hands he will do it and unlike many Consulars has no problem with fighting on the front line. He will not kill unless he feels other options have been exhausted or are naive and unrealistic. He is guarded and a stoic...a trait from his first master. He has a tendency to look at things from a legalistic perspective and has a habit of over-rationalizing. He is dedicated to trying to become a good Jedi but has a severe doubt in the goodness of the Republic, Tython having convinced him of just how utterly ruthless and short sighted it could be, though he will defend it anyway as even if he does not fully believe in the Republic he believes in the Jedi goals. He has lingering guilt from his failure to stop his master Carra from falling to the Dark Side during the last seconds of her life, as he felt her fall and death through their bond, and only his bloodlines gift prevented him from slipping to the Dark Side with her, though some small part of her may have lodged itself in his subconscious, necessitating his need to undergo the trial of spirit, so he can resolve the issue and see if he is right. He is similar to his brother in subtle ways: they both have talant, and both can be analytical and detached, as well as committed to their cause, but the difference is that Coventry is not an anarchist at heart and is capable of understanding that no organization is perfect, and that while he may not think highly of some of the actions perpetuated by his side, he understands that the alternative the empire would impose is much worse...facts his brother will never accept or acknowledge, even if on a rational level he understands the folly of his reasoning. Coventry believes in understanding as much of the lightsaber as possible, feeling even a bit of additional knowledge is helpful. Despite being a consular, Coventry studies combat techniques...Desperaux Jedi are usually talented at combat and refuse to be taken unprepared.
  15. Open RP

    Coventry was too slow this time, unable to to evade Thuria as his staff was knocked out of his hand by her. And yet again it had been Thuria who delivered the win. He was good at the staff...but he still had some ways to go. Many ways to go, in truth. "Even the best Makashi user must keep his eyes out for multiple opponents. It's best for a single opponent but as more opponents come to the duel the Makashi swordsman finds himself dividing his time and focus. Not to say it can't be done...a good Makashi swordsman can hold off two opponents if they are genuinely good...but Makashi at the end is best used against the singular foe," Sheol spoke. "Though you did very impressive work with your staff. It's rare to see genuinely good effort with staff form two. I can tell you are all getting tired but I wish to give one more test before I can be confidant enough to say you have an advanced understanding of form two. And to do that, I'm going to test Inoy and Thuria by giving Coventry weapons a tad more conducive to fighting two opponents..." Sheol tossed Coventry two training sabers, which he flashed on immediately after setting the staff aside in the ground, both blades to his side as he waited for them to attack. It was clear he had devoted much study to multiple forms of combat, as he seemed at ease no matter what variant of Makashi he used. In any case Coventry had at least the makings of a formidable swordfighter.