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Found 131 results

  1. Say it like you mean it.

    The feeling of the dark side rushing beneath his boots was a euphoric feeling alone. Submersed in what he had known most of his life, coming to Dathomir was an astounding feeling. If not for the barrier that kept them all safe from prying eyes. Lord Verrin was correct in describing the feeling- blind to the outside, but unfortunate we could not see out. It was like having waterlogged ears. Everything muffled and muted. He would have to venture out soon enough to avoid losing his sanity. Aiden spent far too much time already with his head buried to avoid detection, at the very least it was soothing to walk around the academy with his head held high. Even with the suffocating feeling around him, Aiden found time to make himself comfortable. Making a small quarter for himself to attend to his own devices. This was where he was headed now, until he found a more suitable location for himself, he would have his minimal and basic training here. Though he was no Darth or Kaar, there were things he was capable of teaching and taking off the hands of the others who took charge here. Being a mere master, he would do mundane tasks to get by and grow as he went. Part of those mundane tasks would include teaching the new blood that flowed into the academy, as well as he could teach them. Finally reaching his quarters, he pushed the large door open and left it as such, moving to his desk to double check the names he would be summoning. "Hk." The droid whirred to attention at the sound of his voice, being mildly squished behind the opened door. "Retrieve for me @Kai Tsintah and @Yasinda Jax. And for Kriff's sake be timely about it you hear me?" "Affirmative: Yes Master Rohl, I will return shortly." The droid hobbled his way around the door and left, the clanking of his steps echoing on the stone. "I bet you will." Aiden rolled his eyes, assuming the blasted droid would get lost. Wouldn't be the first time. But it would give him time to prepare for his guests. Turning to the fresher in the corner, he took to a quick trim of his beard to show off the scar that ran along his cheek and down to his burgundy and black robes. Whithout shaving it all off, he still was able to keep a little bit of the rugged hard look he had acquired over the years. A brush to his fluffly brown hair did no good except to make it even more poofy than before, so instead he ran a little bit of water over it to make it tame. Leaving the fresher once more, he was for once glad the droid took his sweet time. As it was he did need to clean his desk, or at least make it presentable. Aiden had only been here a week and he had already accumulated what looked like to others, heaps of metal and electronic garbage. What it really was though, was several disassembled parts of multiple devices from light foil hilts to blasters to even a hacking device that he had yet to figure out. The mess was a puzzle even to himself, as he took them apart all at once and did not separate the mess. But that was part of the fun in putting it back together. Perhaps later he would disassemble some land mines and have the young ones try to put them back together without losing their fingers. It would help him learn to not make the same mistakes without the consequence. But that was for another day probably. He did his best to somewhat make the mess look like there was some order to it before giving up, if he moved too much they would be a lost cause for him. Instead he moved to his neatly made cot and folded it into the wall to appear like the room was more of an office than a residence. Satisfied for the time being, as he would still have to wait for proper facilities to do this sort of thing again, he sank into his desk chair and began fiddling with what he assumed was the remains of one of the light foils while he waited for his company.
  2. Lightsaber basic's

    Magnus walked passed self after self in the archives, quickly scanning the backs of the books that were available to the young Jedi in training in hopes of finding a book that would help him with understanding the most basic tool that more or less every Jedi had, the lightsaber. True he had already had a lightsaber for the majority of his life when his previous master had given it to him back on the lonely planet and had plenty of time to look it over and take it apart, but in true he was worried that if he did, then it would somehow get damaged from his medalling and won’t work anymore. But he knew that this was an issue that has to be dealt with so here he was, searching the archives, a place that still amazed him with the sear amount of books and data cubes that it had, for anything that would give him a clear idea on how they worked. He had managed to acquire a data cube that held the information that he wished but he liked to make sure through other sources if he could. It didn’t take long until he spotted a book that had the title ‘Lightsaber basic’s’, where he quickly removed it from the self and found a quiet corner of the archives with a chair and table and sat down while he opened both the book and data cube to digest its information. Through both of them he found plenty of useful information that told him how a lightsaber was used, briefly going over dual wielding that peaked Magnus’s curiosity, and how it worked inside of its casing coming with a detailed schematic of them. ‘Ok that’s... not too complicated.’ He said to himself as he brought his training lightsaber out and placed it on the centre of the table. In principle, they were the same, a training lightsaber and actual ones, so the mechanics were similar except for the use of an actual kyber crystal. Magnus took one last look at the diagram of the lightsaber and its individual pieces, before calmly closing his eyes and levitated the saber in the air while he concentrated on imagining the different parts of the blade and began to try to take them apart.
  3. Thread title: A little activity is not bad for anyone. Location: Dantooine Enclave, Training fields. Open to: basically anyone on the enclave Thread: Kale Sarkan decided to train with his lightsaber to burn off some adrenaline. Goal: To hang out and interact with the Jedi´s outside of the usual Hanging out casual conversation.
  4. A Lesson in Physical Defense

    It had been a long time since Dantius had come to any Jedi Temples to train with others of his kind but to believe that he would be establishing himself on Dantooine was nothing short of a shock. He'd heard about the history of Dantooine and how it was once destroyed by Darth Malak but he had never thought that the academy would be back in use after that, at least not in the capacity of only seeing the best of the best that it was currently serving. Nonetheless, he took a little time to breathe in the historical significance of the planet as well as its strong attunement to the Light Side of the Force as he prepared himself for the day ahead. Shortly after arriving on Dantooine, he decided to begin establishing himself in a different manner from other Jedi: he decided to be the go-to man for unarmed martial arts training for Initiates. During the night hours before, he'd posted a bulletin for Initiates to meet him on the fields if they were interested in training as he had been refining his Teras Kasi in transit to the planets where his work as a Jedi Sentinel tended to carry him. He was here on Dantooine as one of his few bits of offtime before being thrown off the frying pan and into the fire of his work once more, with enough time to make his presence as a martial artist known. As he warmed up under a mighty tree, he thought about his life up to this point and wondered... what had become of Karter, of Mathes, of Arek, Asya, Felony, even of Inoy and Coventry (the last one being answered when he encountered the man again, a few years ago, when Hyperion was finally destroyed). Besides Coventry, had anyone returned to the fold of the Jedi Order and the Republic or were they all dead? He didn't know but as he warmed up, he did know what he wanted to do. So he began rehearsing his welcome speech to the Initiates that would inevitably come to train with him. His bulletin allowed him a means to detect intrigue on the part of a couple Initiates and he had established that he'd be waiting with the rising of the sun to meet the new Initiates. To start his day, he warmed up with the basic exercises and regiments taught him by his first master when he was learning Teras Kasi whilst enchained by Zygerrian slavers. The basic punches, leg stretches, push ups, everything he needed in order to be footloose and quick when he wielded the style in demonstration to the pupils that would come. He was even wearing, not the traditional robes of the Jedi but a tank top and loose shorts so that he could maximize his moving ability whilst teaching.
  5. Thread Leaders: Dantius Octavian Location: The Training Fields on Dantooine Opened To: Any initiate or anyone else interested in learning Teras Kasi martial arts from my character, Dantius Octavian. Initiates are preferred but Padawans and Knights are also welcome. Thread Summary: While Dantius Octavian has never had quarrel with teaching the Force and lightsaber skills to future generations, he has also seen the benefits of having a form or two of unarmed hand-to-hand combat on his side as well. Therefore, he has decided he would like to pass on his knowledge of unarmed Teras Kasi martial arts which (in addition to providing strength and power especially to the upper torso) can also provide mental resistance towards Force attacks like the mind trick. While waiting in the Training Fields, he will be practicing his lightsaber kata and/or meditation in order to keep his edge in all aspects. That said, he hopes Initiates will see merit in his idea of hand-to-hand techniques and will take time out of their schedule to train with him in basic Teras Kasi combat. OOC: The objective of this thread would be to ensure that Initiates who join have learned novice Teras Kasi that can be used in defense of their lives as Jedi, later on. I'm thinking a very small congregation, perhaps no more than a total of four or five people (myself included). Once one or two people (preferably Initiates as I've said before) are tagged on, I'll send out a PM to talk about when we can get this going at a time that works best for most people if not everybody. If three people have signed on, I'll not only coordinate everything via PM but I'll also try and get the thread going by Saturday.
  6. Internal Release

    Telona 1st, 3631 BBY Anaxes, Military Training Pits The first strike caught Yusanulis by surprise as the black haired male soon swooped low with a kick, the blow barely missing before the momentum brought up a secondary strike that caused the Echani to raise his arms to take the brunt of the blow. Staggering as he recoiled from the blow, the Echani lunged forward with his palm outwards, only to watch his arm get pushed to the side and a knee strike him in the stomach, the momentum of the blow causing the younger male to stagger backwards and take in his surroundings - or what he could see of his surroundings as they all blurred together. The man stood almost five inches taller than him, had a finely trimmed beard and had small streaks of grey going through it. His eyes were different than most other humans, much more near-human than Yusanulis himself, but the clothes he wore were the bare minimum required for the training pits. Countless scars sat across his face and exposed arms, and his nose was slightly off-center, a sign that he man had taken a strike to the nose and hadn't properly had it realigned. Watching the third strike come towards him, the Echani watched as the fist came towards his gut and used the sand to his advantage, twisting on the balls of his feet, he brought both hands to intercept the punch, following up with a powerful elbow to the man's face, practically forcing him forward into it. Skin broke and blood gushed, though that did not deter the man as he smiled finally, bringing back his fist before feigning another strike, the Echani flexed his ribs as the foot barely missed, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he looked up for only a moment. The fith strike came almost too quick for Yusanulis as he raised his hand to seize the man's wrist, though the blow still struck him in the chest, staggering him. Attempting to retaliate by forcing his palm forward by drawing the man in, the Echani soon found his own momentum used against him. World turning upside down as he was flung head-over-heels by the man, he coughed sharply as he landed on the hard ground, the sand providing little cushioning to such a devastating throw. Attempting to get back, the Echani twisted on the spot before feeling a foot come up to his ribs, the wind being practically pulled from his lungs immediately as he took in a mouthful of sand. Clutching his stomach as he heaved and spat out the grains of sand, he tried to look upwards before feeling his head get pushed to the sand, the weight of the man practically pushing him into the ground. Eyes watering from the sand in his eyes, he struggled for a moment to remove the man's foot from his head before drawing back to his days on Thyrsus as a child. It didn't take much to use the weight and momentum of an opponent against them, it simply required practice and precision - he had learned that much from his Thyrsian step-father - and as the words came back to him, he immediately threw his arm back, elbow colliding with the knee of the man before he used the pain that would come with it to tackle the man to the ground. Wrist being pressed to the man's throat, the Echani grinned as he brought his knee up to the man's right side, pressuring the man's arm to lock it in place, "I'd give up by now, I don't want to be regarded as an old man beater," though the grin soon faded as he felt his left side get a sharp pain through it and soon the world turned black as the Echani felt the static course through his being. Waking up several minutes later with a painful grunt, the Echani looked at the finely groomed male Epicanthix who he had been sparring with, the smug look across his face and the cut under his eye only serving to mock the Echani. Slowly pushing himself up from the ground and into a sitting position, the Echani shook his head to clear the cobwebs that had come with the dull stun knife. "Can't get too cocky, kid. I've faced Echani and Jedi, can't say they enjoy my innate immunity, but I can say that you all fight with enough ferocity to make a rancor blush," the Epicanthix, Jyun, spoke finally as he wiped sand and blood from his face, finally showing some sign of injury as he clenched his teeth, "I can tell you are trying to be blunt with your martial arts, but you must learn to be fluid. Take in the strikes as they come and redirect the kinetic energy to your advantage, you can't continually fight like you're some Noghri. Being durable is one thing, coming out alive is another." Easing as he sought his canteen of water, the Echani shook his head before running his sandy hand through his hair before pouring the water over his head, letting it wash off his hair and face of sand, soon drenching his tunic. Did he really need those words? He could tell simply by their fight that he was rusty, and far from the epitome of Echani martial artist. Grunting as he unbuttoned his tunic to look at the fresh bruise on his chest, he rolled his eyes before hunching over. "I've never had a challenge I couldn't simply overcome by not just beating it into submission. Emotions? Beating it into submission with training. Adversaries? Beating them into submission with Jedi teachings. Injuries? Continuing to train until scolded, then beating them by resting. My life revolves around just being stronger than my issues," laughing as he ran his hand through his hair once more, he looked to the Echani who was grinning like an idiot, "Thyrsus is a lot different than Eshan and the Jedi Order, but that's where I began and as much as I do not want to be part of it - it is who I am." "Trust me, sometimes I wish I was born without this.. gift, it'd make others believe me much more often. Unfortunately, you just have to deal with the hand you are dealt, after thirty-five standard years I still regret leaving behind my family, yet you don't see me actively seeking out a solution to replace my loved ones - it's the path I chose, much like how you continued to choose the path of the Jedi. There is no easy path, but you need to accept that maybe that part of you is what is holding you back, learn to redirect that negative energy into positive energy," the words used by Jyun brought a solemn look to his face, though he soon replaced it with the fatherly smile he always wore - attempting to coax recruits into a sense of familiarity before forcing them to work harder. The cheap tactic worked though, and Yusanulis found himself understanding that he did have the choice to back away from the Jedi Order, the option given to him by Master Suto and his own mother - yet he chose to stay the course. It wasn't about him, it was about protecting those he cared about, focusing on others. Though, as the thought came into his head and a smile was placed on his lips, the Epicanthix immediately wrapped his arm around the Echani's head and locked it in place. "Now go and continue to train, the one who gets beat by the elderly," the smug comment made the Echani smile as he was held in a headlock, incapable of escaping it. Telona 10th, 3631 BBY Dressed in a simple grey tanktop and black pants, Yusanulis stood out like a sore thumb with his long hair, his hair had been originally tied tightly in a knot above his head, though after facing an opponent ten minutes earlier, his hair had become dishevelled, bits and pieces hanging down on his forehead and near his eyes. Sweat and sand cover his shirt, the sun beating down on his body was almost blistering hot, yet he drew on the Force to keep his body cool - the pros of being a Force-sensitive, but still a technique that served only as a minor convenience. Light bruises covered his chin and cheek and along with his forearms, he could feel in the back of his mouth a tooth had been broken, and even tasted blood - though he shrugged off the dull throbbing pain. Easing himself up to a neutral stance, his leg muscles throbbing as he attempted a meditative-to-standing maneuver, to reach his peak height, before thrusting his right hand out before him. His forearms were soon brought before him in a defensive position, palms facing outwards as he clenched his fingers into claw shapes. Raising his left foot slightly, he stomped down onto the ground as the sand rushed over his bare feet, the hot grains of sand soon rising as he quickly shot his right leg out, grunting as he twisted on his left leg. Foot coming up above his head, he staggered as felt his left leg give out, catching himself on his knee and hand. Standing back up as he dusted the sand off his clothes and rubbed the sand together between his fingers and palms. Focus, Yusanulis. Echani martial arts are meant to kill, yet they are the core of learning true self-defense. Without a weapon, I can only fall back on Jedi teachings, but if it is life or death, it is best to learn a more passive version of my heritage. A kick to the head can knock someone unconscious, and learning how to properly fight without a lightsaber against an armed opponent will only open more ways to disarm. Focus. Yusanulis exhaled sharply as he re-positioned his right foot behind him, lowering his stance considerably in the sandy training pits of Anaxes - each fiber of his being remembering the teachings of his youth as he controlled his breathing. Sliding his foot forward slowly as he thrust his palm forward, the cool air running along his exposed flesh and the slight sweat sitting at his brow, it all brought back the memories of training on Thyrsus - the demands that his step-father enforced him to follow, to understand the martial training without the Force. The hatred his step-father had for the Jedi was outweighed by his mother's dedication to ensure her own son would learn the ways of her people, and the Jedi Order. The contrast between both societies were obvious, females dominated the Eshan worlds where light armor and light weaponry were at the forefront of combat, while Thyrsus sought to separate themselves from the matriarchal society and focus on heavy armor and weaponry - though they both shared respect for one another, in one way or another, regardless of disagreements. The Eshan Echani were not very emotional, a trait Yusanulis unfortunately did not pick up from his mother, but the Echani martial arts put emphasis on understanding emotion through physical confrontation - while the Thyrsians did embrace the emotional spectrum, but still were reserved. Body language meant more than actual words, and a quick ten minute spar could be on the same level as a ten hour conversation. Relaxing as he let out a sigh of relief, he crossed his legs and delved back into the Force, letting the light side flow through him as he drew on the energies of the Force to mend his bruises and minor cuts that were placed around his body. The light side of the Force came slowly, though once he had properly connected with it, he felt relaxed, almost at ease. His quest to find a form of calm would continue, but it was a quest he had been on for awhile now. Post Information
  7. How to Make A Knuckle Sandwich

    25th of Yelona Sand puffed up into the air as Telera fell to the sandy ground. Damn but she was getting sick of eating sand but there wasn't exactly a better way to learn how to do unarmed combat. You got in the ring, listened to instructors, and then you practiced the moves on someone until you got it down to instinct and second nature. So far though Telera couldn't say she was doing all that great since she kept ending up in the dirt. Apparently some folks were better at this than others or maybe they just took the stupid time doing this to stay in shape. She didn't know, didn't care, and really did not appreciate it. "Come on Montrose," she heard the instructor say. "You going to lay there and let Imps walk all over you? Might as well go see if they'll let you be a bridge on Kaas then." Telera could feel her eye muscles twitch even as she got back to her feet. She had to tell herself that she was not allowed to shoot the instructor, granted that was more because she didn't have her rifle on her but she was sure she could get a pistol somewhere if she really wanted one. She might not have been the greatest shot with a pistol but she could revisit that until she was good and blow the instructor's head off. Or just walk up to point blank range, that would work too... Murderous impulses aside Telera knew she needed to focus. Range was not always a possibility nor was her rifle the best method of handling everything. Plus her therapist had pretty much ordered her to this. Apparently she thought Telera had a rage issue that needed addressing or something. Breathing deeply and wiping some of the sweat from her green brow Telera focused on her opponent again. Guy didn't have the biggest build and Creation knew size didn't matter when it came to martial arts all the time. With a nod to show she was ready she clenched her fists in her pads and waited a moment before lashing out with another punch. And in less than a minute was back on the ground eating sand...
  8. Kelona 4, 21ATC Temple Guardian Training Facility Ruins, Jedi Temple, Coruscant The Force had been with him, people said. He was fortunate to have escaped with Antilles’ patriarch, he had been told. Jedi Grand Master Jakar Forseti knew that it wasn’t a testament to his skill, or to the will of the Force that had allowed him to retreat in that most dire of moments. It was Darth Atrox. The Dark Lord of the Sith had let him go, to repay a debt that was a combination of Jakar’s honour and the fact that he would likely not have been successful even if he’d made an attempt, all those years ago on Fedje. Time had been at a premium since he had taken over the role in the wake of the bombing of the Tython temple, time that was filled with strategy meetings and political debates. Forseti didn’t like that, he wasn’t cut out for it, as much as the Supreme Chancellor seemed to place faith in him. He was supposed to be behind the scenes, fighting the fight, not sending other people to die in it. But times had changed, and so he had been forced to change along with them. He’d even been struggling to make much headway training his apprentice, let alone himself, so the Jedi Master made sure he began to set aside some time for that particular purpose. He would be facing more powerful Sith, more often than ever, it appeared, and so Forseti sought to learn from the Masters those abilities that would be of most use to him in that particular fight. Today was the beginning of a new training regime that he hoped would grant him these abilities before he needed to use them. Forseti could still feel the sensation of the lightning as it passed through his hands, the searing heat that burned into him even as he was somewhat protected from it, and he decided that he needed something to be able to take such attacks. There was also the way that Atrox had been able to palm away his lightsaber. He had known that, and as such the ability was on his ‘list’ of skills that he had to reclaim still after he had fallen almost to his death, right here on Coruscant, where in the present moment, an otherwise sealed off area of the temple offered some degree of privacy. It had been the Guardians’ personal training chamber, but it stood knee deep in rubble like the rest of the building, and was classed as unsafe, but the Grand Master and the Guardians themselves could visit any part of the temple, condemned or otherwise. There were other abilities that he could learn at this point, but he liked to be able to focus on a small number of things at one time, to give himself the greatest understanding of the skill in question, before he used it in actual combat. He had been in regular sparring sessions with the Temple Guardians, finding their training regime more intense and suited to the way that he trained, until he was supremely confident in his ability to use the weapon. It was with the Force that his lack of self confidence came. Not with what he knew, but the gaps in his knowledge that made him rather vulnerable. Though not many people knew it, the Jedi Temple Guardians were not just experts with lightsabers, they were proficient in numerous ways to protect the temple or anyone who required it. “Let us start with the simplest of them.” One of the Guardians spoke, his masked face betraying as little emotion as his presence in the Force did. “When you’ve been disarmed, I’ve often seen you call your weapon back to your hand with the Force, so why not take it one stage further, and be able to launch it at an opponent in the same way?” Forseti nodded his agreement, hand wrapping around the hilt of his saberstaff, but that just drew shaken heads from each of the Guardians in union. Forseti grinned, switching to the single hilt. Even a Master always has much to learn...
  9. The Biggest Enemy

    10th of Kelona She could do this. It was just a damn lightsaber. She had the pieces of it right in front of her and instructions on how to put it together from the library. Any idiot could follow directions to make a basic lightsaber. In spite of that however, Setie was tense. Her muscles were screaming, her hands shaking, there was sweat running down the side of her face. She felt like any minute she might throw up and the fear that was rolling off her was enough to have someone thinking that a battle was taking place. There was a war for certain, and it was all in Setie's head. Years of memories, insults, put downs slicing at her with more precision than a person could manage without or without the force and causing her to metaphorically bleed out everywhere. The enemy was not without but within, and it was herself with her mother's demands and criticisms. It told her to stop trying. She was never going to get it. She was to stupid to manage this. She was only going to embarrass herself and show just how weak she truly was. Even if she managed it this would not make her strong. She hadn't been strong enough to defend against her mother the first time she managed to slap together a few lightsaber pieces. "Shut up," Setie muttered under her breath angrily. The anger however was turned inward instead of outward, a lash to damage herself instead of fuel to help push her further. It brewed and stewed and boiled until finally she snapped from trying to contain to much. She lost her grip on the pieces and things fell apart. The red crystal bounced one direction and the emitter another. The power cell fell and connected with Setie's toe making her yelp. She kicked at it, hoping to send it across the small area just to get a bit of the pressure and feeling out. Not only did she miss but she ended up hitting the table she was working at with the same toe. Feeling defeated and nursing her toe Setie flopped down on the floor, trying to hold onto sanity even as she felt like crying. What was wrong with her that she couldn't manage a simple lightsaber? Acolytes could manage to put together a lightsaber! What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just get the pieces together like they were suppose to go? It wasn't that hard and she even had a how to. Weakling...idiot...useless...failure... One hand reached up to the side of her face, nails biting into flesh as she scratched herself as if trying to carve her failure into her own flesh. The words in her mind starting to spill out of her mouth out of habit. Her heart hammered and she tried to pull in air as she felt light-headed even as her body spun internally about in fight or flight mode just from trying to put the lightsaber together. "Idiot...weakling...useless fool. Some apprentice you are if you can't even manage a simple lightsaber. Should just disappear before you bring shame on everyone. Save people the trouble of having to waste time cutting your head off for being a witless, stupid, failure!"
  10. Investigation Education

    Whilst still needing a cast for his foot injury from Hyperion, Dantius had decided to take Coventry's advice about training early but since he was physically disabled, he decided to start by sharpening up his mind. In the years before he went to the Vornu Temple of the Jedi Order, he had had some education in galactic law and while still remembering the basics, he felt it would be a waste of years to not somehow put it to use in the name of his new comrades. So he decided to visit the Archives and begin brushing up on his law by first re-reading the Galactic Constitution, a required text for one of his basic law classes. He decided he would start by reading over the basic amendments to the Constitution before then digging further into more obscure Articles that might or might not be overlooked. His first course of action was to read the "Rights of Sentience" and the "Contemplanys Hermi", both of which made up a good chunk of the Republic Constitution. The "Rights of Sentience" declared the outright ban of slavery, equality for all sentient beings, and a ban on all undue hardship on recognized sentient species, voter's suffrage, wage equality for all species working the same job, right of asylum for those immigrating into the Republic's annexed worlds, and many other such rights. Meanwhile, in contrast, the "Contemplanys Hermi" was a document that essentially gave Corellia a right to evade Senatorial duties (of all the worlds) and Dantius immediately found himself wondering why this wasn't a document that wasn't allowed for all worlds. After all, what if the majority of the Senate found a Chancellor to be corrupt and wanted to ruin any momentum before he had a chance to gain it? Sure they could vote him out of office or vote his bills into a veto but what if he found a way to circumnavigate around this? How would the Senators of so many worlds be able to oppose him without being declared outright traitors? He jotted down these thoughts on a flimsiplast notepad that he had brought with him and decided he would look into this later. Force only knew that the people of Anaxes could use a bill like this, given the presence of the Republic military there. What if the military grew in the power it had under the nose of the Chancellor? How could the people fight back without it being a suicidal endeavor? These problems filled up the first three or four pages of his notepad and then he read further into more minute details like laws forbidding murder, rape, theft, and all such crimes. He read about what people who felt they had been victimized could do to get back at those who they accused of attacking them and under what conditions such rights could be revoked. He decided that he had to first know the laws of the Republic then investigate how these laws were effectively enforced before developing a method of investigation, not to mention he needed to read on the individual bill of clauses and rights of each planetary system that he might or mightn't be working in. Once he had read through each bill of rights and clauses provided for each planet he was interested in, he would read upon the culture(s) of that system and see if it was compatible with the method he intended to formulate for investigation. After this was achieved, he intended to compare cases solved on these worlds and see if he could trace similarities across them to refine his method.
  11. First Steps

    Nelona 3632 BBY "Ah! Its about time you got here slave." barked the Overseer as the troopers brought her to a chamber where a lot of bladed weapons hung from the walls. The walls and floor itself had stains of blood here and there, testament to the conflicts this room had seen, as well as inferring just how the training went in this room. "Was wondering when they were going to bring the target practice here-" began the Overseer was cut off as one of the troopers who had brought her here handed over a tablet to him. He read it over, frowning before sighing and shaking his head. "Seriously?" he asked before grumbling, putting the pad away into his belt as he regarded the young girl brought to him. The troopers began to depart, and she was left there to stand alone in front of the Overseer. "So, apparently because you survived a cave-in in the tombs that you shouldn't have, the powers that be have decided to put you through training to become a Sith." he explained as he began to circle around her, taking her measure. Tarana stood there silently, trying to process all that was going on, everything he was saying. She couldn't wrap her head around it... her, a Sith? One of the lords and ladies of the Empire? Her? "I doubt you'll survive the first day of it, let alone any of the rest of the training. Doubt you even know how to hold a weapon, let alone use one." the Overseer sneered before he quickly drew the practice saber from his belt and struck out at her back. She cried out as the energy field struck her, and she fell to her knees, her arms wrapping around her body out of reflex. She heard a thunk before she looked down beside her. It was the weapon that he had just struck her with. "Pick it up slave, show me what you can do." he demanded, drawing out another weapon for himself to use, this one made with a metallic blade. Tarana quickly got to her feet, her hands picking up the practice saber as she did so. The Overseer gave a snort. "Well, at least you know how to obey your betters." he sneered before he put advanced on her, swinging the metal sword in a downward curve. Tarana squeaked as she swung the practice saber in a clumsy attempt to block the man's sword, the weapon falling from her grip as the blades collided. "Pick it up!" roared the Overseer. The pale slave girl nodded and bent over to pick up the blade before receiving a quick boot to her jaw which sent her flying backwards to the floor. "Not with your hands! Use the Force slave!" the Overseer commanded. The pale haired girl held her jaw, feeling the blood pooling in her mouth from the blow. "I-I don't kn-know h-how sir..." she said quietly, the Overseer giving a humourless snort. "So you do have a tongue in that head of yours." he remarked as he shouldered the blade. He motioned for her to follow, and tentatively she did. They walked up to a massive stone tablet that stood against one of the walls of the chamber. "This is the Sith Code. This will be your mantra from now on till the day you die, how ever soon that may be at this rate." the Overseer explained, Tarana looking at the inscribed runes on the tablet. "Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me." he recited, Tarana repeating the words under her breath. "Now, you'll remain here and meditate on the code whilst I go attend to other business. And work on bringing that weapon to your hand without you picking it up with your hands." he said, leaving the room. The pale haired girl looked at him as he left, before looking back at the tablet in front of her. She'd seen tablets like this one in the tombs, but had never learned how to read them... now she was going to be learning how to wield this Force that was meant to free her. I'm no longer a slave of the tombs, she thought to herself as she sat on the ground, but I'm still a slave of Korriban... this is going too fast. What am I doing here? I'm not a Sith... but, if I don't learn, I could die...
  12. Learning the Basics

    Kelona 23rd, 3632 BBY Sheev had been at the Sith Academy for close to two or so weeks now. And while he had been able to get in some training with his lightsaber, he'd since been stuck merely meditating in the Dark Side of the Force rather than trying to hone his skills with it. However, it seemed Sheev's luck was about to change for the better, as today he was to train his abilities in the Force under the watchful eye of an Overseer. And that's where Sheev's luck ended, as he walked into the training room he was told to report to Sheev noticed the instructor for today standing in the middle of the room. Sheev inadvertently gulped at the sight of the human man in a black Imperial Uniform as his cold yellow eyes locked with Sheev's own yellow orbs. The Overseer had a well-shaved goatee that was starting to show signs of age in the form of streaks of grey amongst his black facial hair. His dark, chocolate-colored skin had paled somewhat due to the corruption of the Dark Side of the Force, and his black facial hair with grey streaks was joined by a flattop haircut on the top of the man's head. However all these features paled in comparison to the Overseer's eyes. Those glowing yellow orbs of hatred and anger, which put fear into many an acolyte, were staring directly at Sheev. Finally the Overseer broke the silence as he introduced himself "I am Overseer Harvix. Today I will be training you in a way that is uniquely effective with weak slime like you." Sheev held his tongue at the insult and stayed silent as the Overseer continued "You will bleed...and if I am fortunate, you will break and give me the satisfaction of culling another weakling. But...if I am unfortunate then you shall leave here today alive and with the knowledge of how to use the Dark Side of the Force to augment your ability to jump." Harvix emphasized this point with a force augmented jump that landed him behind Sheev, forcing the Acolyte to turn and face him, before he added "As well as an ability you used once before...pushing someone with the Force." Sheev's senses in the Force warned him of impending danger, but his reflexes were far too slow for him to react as the Overseer pushed out his right palm at him. The next thing Sheev knew, he was off his feet and flying through the air, making about two or three meters before he noticed the wall in front of him...he slammed head first into it. He was lucky that his nose didn't break, but as he crumpled to the floor by the wall, Sheev could feel blood flowing freely from both nostrils as well as immense pain from the wall refusing to give an inch. Somewhere in Sheev's mind, he vaguely had the impression that his whole face would probably bruise up from that hit. However, in the forefront of his mind Sheev could only think of one thing. "It's going to be a long day today."
  13. Finding Ones Resolve

    Selona 20th, 3632 Outside the Academy Korriban... he couldn't really say he'd ever been on the surface. With few exceptions, non-Sith traditionally weren't allowed on the planet's surface. Although even that had seemed to have changed. So much change... the galaxy changed, the Empire changed, even the Republic had changed. Kain, however... he hadn't really changed, had he? Ever since learning that he was Force-sensitive, Kain had struggled with his own identity, fighting internally against any changes. For years, he always thought of himself as just a soldier. A member of a pack. To him, a Sith was a loner, only ever out for themselves. Indeed, most Sith did fit that description. Each one believed that they were the epitome amongst Sith and remained wary of others, fearing that if they trusted anyone they would be betrayed and struck down. Kain considered such rampant paranoia unhealthy. Amongst the Imperial Army, each soldier trusted and counted on one another. Together they were a force to be reckoned with, striking down the Empire's enemies. So it was that Kain found himself caught between two worlds. On the one hand, he had his own sense of self, a deeply ingrained belief that his brothers-in-arms in the army had his back, and he had theirs. How could he possibly believe that anyone would stab him in the back at some play for power? It's not like Sith got any actual strength out of killing each other. It was usually just for rank. He grimaced in some amount of disgust at that. Rank... what good was rank if you had to kill your peers to get it? Who would trust you with anything? He couldn't even pretend to understand how a Sith thought. If they spent less time with their petty infighting, the Empire could have had complete control of the entire galaxy. That was the other hand that had Kain conflicted so. If he became a Sith fully, would he lose his sense of self? Would he be drawn into the petty squabbles of those who do more harm to the Empire then the Republic ever did? Would he himself become just like them? The thought frightened him, and really, not many things frightened the Kaasian. He had wrestled Vine Cats, faced down armies, and not once did he fear. The idea of losing himself, however... it terrified him. Despite all this time, he had neglected his training. Actively resisted it, even. And yet... he had to make a choice. The Civil War... the incompetent Sith running around ruining the Empire... could he really close his eyes and ignore it? All for the sake of staying with his pack? He had the power to change it... but if he fully steeped himself in the Dark Side, would he even care in a year? The Empire was everything to him. Its citizens, his brothers-in-arms... He was ready to lay down his very life for these things, but the Sith? Most of them wouldn't think twice of sending soldiers into a grinder if it meant advancement and power for them. It made him sick, people like that... but... at his current rank, what could he do? Amongst normal Humans, Kain could very will be classified as a super soldier, but while he had raw strength and a really big gun, what was that compared to some of the feats a Sith could do? His master... his old master, as he hadn't really seen her since the civil war when he mistook her for a traitor, and he very much doubted she still considered him as her apprentice since then, had caused him intense pain just by looking at him. It was slow, sure, but how long could a lesser man hold up to it? And what if she used it while engaging him in combat? It was likely that, through the Force, a counter of some kind was available, but as conflicted as he was, the only thing Kain could really do with the Force was move things, which wasn't as useful as it sounded. Kain's command of the Force was too small and untrained still. He could only lift small things through the Force, like his lightsaber. It was very weird for him, as physically, he could move things that would normally take two to three men to accomplish with his bare hands. But if he could augment himself fully with the Force... what couldn't he do? These questions always whirled around inside of his head, but the one thing he had to admit was that he was pretty much at his peak. His skill as a heavy gunner was undisputed, and when the army needed the best gunner they had, they called him. His strength was tremendous, to the point where he could fire those guns without the use of a mount, something normally only done by Droids and those employing power armor. Kain did it entirely on his own. He wasn't even all that slow anymore, a weakness that he had trained out of, but now... he had to ask himself, where did he go from here? Did he remain just a soldier, living out his life taking orders from others, yet remaining true to himself? Or did he finally become a Sith, and see just what he could attain at the potential cost of his very identity? As he stood at the entrance of the Academy, Kain felt deep inside himself that he had already made his choice, even if parts of him still roiled in conflict. The Empire always did value Sith more than it did normal Humans... and if he held himself back, he would be doing the Empire a disservice... how could he call himself loyal to the Empire if he willingly rejected their ruling class? Standing there, in the shadow of the Academy, he came to a realisation. He owed it to the Empire, as well as himself, to stop skirting around the issue. He wasn't some weakling that would get drunk on power, he was different than any of the Sith that currently roamed the insides. He was a soldier and a warrior. Where the Sith believed themselves to be the best, he knew his limits, and theirs. He finally decided for real this time. He could do this. This was just another battle, and losing wasn't something he knew how to do.
  14. Posture and Grace

    Elona 16th, 3632 BBY Jedi Training Grounds, Coruscant Yusanulis wore a simplistic sleeveless tunic and grey pants as he stood there and awaited the Jedi Battlemaster, his hands pushing back his long hair out of his face as he cleared his vision. As the woman appeared, his blade was firmly gripped in his hand, bowing his head towards Jedi Battlemaster Telles, the woman's lightsaber held out before her in a saluting position. The female Iktotchi stood just below the Echani in height, though her battle prowess was incredible, even in her advanced age, her armor hugged her body tightly, but it was meant to provide her with an agile edge over most, her strength being in the Force, instead of physically. She had summoned Yusanulis personally after discovering his rather aggressive Form preference, seeking to have the Echani learn more than his current skill set and something more controlled and elegant to emphasis one's ability with a lightsaber. The Echani let out a sigh as he raised his blade above his head, his blade being readied at a high position as he slowly paced around the Iktotchi stood there, her feet shuffling without much movement as she awaited the assault. "Attack and understand, Knight Rasudan, even with your strong posture and stance, you must understand the importance of the economy of movements taught by Form II," the Iktotchi spoke as the Echani eased his muscles at the challenge, the doubt crossing his features as he moved forward, trying to gauge and understand Master Telles' movements, though he hadn't had much practice against such a Form. As his icy blue blade was activated with a snap-hiss, he drew on what knowledge he had on the lightsaber Forms - understanding those that relied on one-handed strikes typically meant they were weak against power attacks. Sprinting forward, he brought his blade down, the Echani quickly rotating his hands to attack the chest of the woman as she moved and her blade came up, pushing the blow away with her blade as she moved to the side, redirecting the strike to the side as she placed one arm behind her body to fixture her posture, though she didn't stop with pushing the blow away with one hand, instead she broke off into a flourish of attacks, stabs and light cuts meant to harass and push back the Echani's offense. The Echani brought his blade close as he attempted to strike away the blows with fluid ripostes, but every time the blade was struck, the woman has rotated out of the temporary blade lock and advanced backwards before stabbing forward in a lunge. The Force echoed as the Echani moved backwards and drew on the Force as it flowed through his senses and body, filling his spirit. Watching the blade in slow motion, Yusanulis brought his blade downwards in an attempt to beat back the blade and open himself to the woman, though as he struck against the plasma with his own blade, the woman had already let go of her blade and activated her lightsaber shoto, the blue blade meeting the Echani's arm as it struck against the Echani's bare arm, his muscles seizing up and his strike faltering as he staggered backwards. The woman had decided to fight the Force with the Force, but instead of using strength and speed, she used her own grace and speed, her position returning to where it was before with a small shoto-held out before her in a salute. A smile sat upon her face, but the Echani grabbed his biceps and let out a sigh as he let his icy blue lightsaber hang in his hand weakly. "There is a misconception amongst most that Djem So can best Makashi, though as you have seen that is not the case. Power has it's place, but grace has it's own place as well. Without training in Makashi, those that would defend against you would find your attacks powerful, but lacking in the accuracy required to land the specific hit that ends the duel immediately, or we can merely tire out the enemy," Telles spoke softly as she handed the Echani a kolto patch from her belt, her smile being comforting, yet her stature almost intimidating. "Just bad luck on my part, I underestimated you actually trying against me," laughing as he applied the patch onto his arm, the sensation slowly returning as the kolto started it's basic healing process for the minor wound, the Echani stepped back and moved himself into position, his weapon being pointed in the air before him in a similar fashion as his hand slowly tightened and loosened, trying to get full feeling back into the arm. "Teach me how to fight with one arm and teach me the stance, if it's as valuable as you say it is, I need to know everything," speaking in a hoarse voice as he felt sweat drip from his brow, the Echani tried to show his smile, though he clenched his teeth tightly at the slight embarrassment. "Luck isn't a thing when the Force is there, I'm afraid. The first technique is learning how to move your stance without overstepping or exposing yourself," the words of the woman rang through the Echani's ears as she used the Force to grasp her own lightsaber and draw it to herself, the shoto being deactivated and attached to her belt, "Make sure your posture is correct and make sure your feet are spread and planted firmly on the ground." Shifting his feet as he stood up straight, his hair hanging down past his shoulders as he held his blade up before him, trying to replicate the salute, his weakened arm going behind him to reinforce his stature. It burned to twist his arm in the position, but the Echani merely accepted it as one way of learning. Holding out his blade towards the woman, he attempted to repeat her lunge at a distance, his footing slipping up as he overextended and caught himself on his left foot, his body shifting back up as he exhaled. Easing back up, he attempted a slash that he has seen, twisting his wrist and arm to conserve his movement, the icy blue blade carving a soft line through the air before he turned his wrist once more with the blade, bringing it around to perform another quick slash, though there was no emphasis of power behind it. Pulling his arm back, he stabbed forward once again, but twisted the blade as he stabbed into the air, the blade moving downwards instead of forwards, a similar feign to what the Jedi Battlemaster had performed, though she had continually stabbed forward and slashed in flourishes meant to distract the Echani, something he still had to grasp. Stepping forward as he lunged, he pulled himself back quickly and brought his wrist up towards his chest to provide him with a momentary defense, though the woman laughed as she moved forward and performed the same attack, her body shifting and sliding as she moved forward, her lightsaber being held out before her in an offensive position. The Echani noted that she had no intention of defending herself through blocking, instead she used her movements to dodge and redirect the strike to the side. Steadying himself back to his previous position, Yusanulis lunged forward and moved his leg with him, twisting the blade three times, performing three quick slashes before holding the blade out before him and sliding to the side. Repeating the Jedi Battlemaster's movements were helping the Echani understand the Form - it was purely offensive in bladework, but it wasn't not defensive, it relied on moving accordingly and parrying. Practicing the basics repeatedly left the Echani somewhat relaxed, though he could feel the exhaustion course through his limbs, and the sweat drip down his face as he twisted and moved his feet to provide him with a constant movement without overexposing himself to the imaginary enemy before him, while Telles continued to visually correct the Echani's mistakes, understanding that the Echani learned through watching the actual thing. Pushing forward on his foot, he felt the sweaty floor beneath him under his boots, his stance slipping as he lowered his arm and caught himself, his legs spreading as he exhaled, pushing himself back up with his feet. "Facing an opponent, you must learn how much you can push yourself, against an imaginary enemy it may be easier than most. Come back tomorrow and I will bring my own Padawan to face you, he has shown incredible skill with the abilities, though he may be suitable to face in a simplistic duel, don't expect the Padawan to be a push over, he is one of the best duelist I have ever seen at his age," as Telles spoke, Yusanulis deactivated his lightsaber and held it in two hands, bowing at his hips and holding his hands around the lightsaber as he felt his hair fall in his face, the sweat and tangled hair obscuring his vision. "Thank you Master Telles, I appreciate the effort you're putting into me," the words were sincere, though he felt his breath tighten in his throat, a cough escaping his lips as he walked away from the training room. Post Information
  15. Basic Footwork

    3rd of Kelona, 3632BBY The blade in his hands whistled in the air as Cyrex swung it. He didn't pause, instead working through the whole of the drill without stopping. It was early but he preferred being the only one in the training area. It led to less issues with the Overseers when he didn't tolerate fools thinking that just because he had a blade he was weak. Some individuals seemed to think it was pointless to train with a blade, opting immediately for the lightsaber and ignoring all over kinds of combat. Cyrex though wasn't interested in their opinions and provided they kept them to themselves he had no qualms with them. When they opened their mouths to him and made threats then they learned that just because he had a blade didn't mean he couldn't put them in their place. The Overseers got a little testy though about beating acolyte's to death. So far he had only beaten one unconscious though the Overseer had needed to pull him off. Challenges were to be met with strength. If someone did not have the strength to stand against him then they should not challenge him. How he hated weaklings pretending to be strong. He had more respect for those that accepted their lot and their limits. It showed wisdom to know one's limits. He knew his. Right now, he was still figuring out how to put together a saber. Mechanically minded he was not but he knew metal. He'd heard of metals that were resistant and could stand up to lightsabers. Always a bigger predator, as his old master was want to say. It was sound advice to remember. For every creature there was something that could stand up to it, hunt it, end it...so it was with everything else. In a battle there was counters, blocks, dodges, and those were as important to know as the most powerful attacks. He would be the greatest warrior of his time. He would leave others to divide their attention among powers and sabers. He would learn war in all it's blood and glory. He would start with the basics though and work diligently up to the rest. With that in mind he switched hands, working on his left now instead of his right. He might have been ambidextrous but he still thought it smart to learn to use both hands independently. Just in case of one not being available.
  16. Heart's Projection

    Elona 6, 3632 BBY Training Grounds - Outside Jedi Temple "You have no true combat abilities..." This was something the teen was hearing more and more often, her brows creasing at the memory of her mission with her friend and the now Grand Master; having no other means, the girl had reacted without thought and shoved herself between an enemy and the potential victims, taking a near fatal blow. As a healer, she could no longer afford to sacrifice her body to save others, her job being to use her energy, not her physical being. Rubbing her temple, the young Jedi Knight wandered the grounds, pausing as a metallic figure caught her eye, sun glinting off the droid's outer shell. Sharp teeth nibbling on her lower lip, the alien shook her head, her head tails flipping like hair over her shoulders. Fists clenching and relaxing, a look of determination settled in her amethyst gaze, the healer walking up to the droid to begin programming it: she would only improve her skills if she practiced them. No more could she run from her fears of weaponry. After programming a light training session with training sabers, the Togruta took her place, shifting a foot forward, her saberstaff being activated with a snap-hiss, the green blades igniting as she held the weapon slightly across her body in a horizontal fashion. Watching the droid come to life and extend its training saber, the mechanical body shifted before lunging at her, the teen raising her blade up to block the overhead attack, wincing at the strength of the downward slash. Her heart was thudding loudly, her weapon being spun slightly to parry the attack away, its other end shifting to be positioned before her body. Swipe after swipe, slash after slash, the Jedi spun and wove her staff in place, learning how to twist her body and use both ends to block rapid strikes to her frame. It began a bit awkwardly, attempting to turn her wrist and shift her grip specific ways to maneuver such a weapon, but with keeping her mind calm, the teen got the hang of it after a handful of minutes. It was upsetting that she couldn't will herself to move forward and also launch any attack, her whole body trembling with any attempt she made to do just that. Exhaling slowly, the alien grew more bold with each slash or stab she blocked, pushing back against the attacks after a few hours, her limbs shaking from the effort, sweat running down her face. Exhaustion from the physical exertion was seeping into her, the teen's focus slipping, her speed decreasing, her defenses essentially non existent at this point. Anywhere the training saber hit stung, sometimes burned if it hit her bare skin like when the droid slashed at her head and the blade landed at the base of her montral where it connected with her head tails. A strike to her arm caused the Togruta to drop her weapon, the saberstaff deactivating upon hitting the ground, the droid spinning and aiming a finishing blow at her neck. Arms flying up and crossing before her face, the healer felt her energy flare, countering the attack for a brief moment, almost acting as a barrier or protective coating that sheathed her body, though it faded rapidly, the girl collapsing onto her hands and knees, gasping for air, her limits having been pushed to their max if not further. "P-program shut down," she called out, the droid powering down.
  17. Uncovering the Past

    The Spire of the Jedi, Republic Senate, Coruscant Kelona 4th, 3632 BBY Thuria Drinna found her way into the Spire of the Jedi on Coruscant. As she found her way down the hallways, one thought crossed her mind: the visions she had been having about her nanny and her father. She didn't know if they were alive, missed her, or what not. It was all a blur to her. And yet, maybe the Jedi had some information for her about them. The last thing she needed was to get into trouble, and yet her visions still brought her to the same conclusion: what had happened to them? Did they miss her? And if so, would she find closure? To be honest, she didn't know which. Her fellow Jedi kept telling her to let go of her past, to face the present with a clear mind. She was doing that so far, but it wouldn't hurt for her to know their fates. Maybe it was better she left things alone. And yet, at the same time, she wondered if this was truly the right path. But then the Force had other plans for her. So, maybe there was a chance, a small sliver of hope that she would find what she sought. But then visions only told her so far about something forthcoming. Maybe it was better to have a clear mind over this. She was learning and that was all there was to it. But for now, she was heading into the Spire. What was she to do for today? Maybe she would get what she sought, or a new mission. Either way, she was prepared to take the next step and complete her trials. She was becoming a Guardian. She might as well stick by this fact no matter what. She had friends with the Jedi. She would do what she could to protect them.
  18. Evolution, Part I

    Elona 15th, 3632 BBY Korriban, The Halls of Sith Training. Raskta brought his saber into his hand, the dark metallic surface a stark contrast to the paleness of his scarred hands. He stood in the center of a training ring, surrounded on all sides by darkness and the hard surface of the Academies walls. Various runes ran down the length of the pillars that supported it, ancient Sith language that he couldn’t comprehend. Even in the darkness of the room the Force gave him aid, illuminating his surroundings in a spectrum of dull shapes. There were no true colors to his sight, but in its own way the Force had a color that stretched to everything he could see. Several feet in front of the young Echani was another man clad in black robes; he was one of the lightsaber instructors that you could easily find at the Academy. Usually they were busy with their own duties, teaching acolytes and the like; but rarely would you find an Apprentice taking their time to learn from them. This was such an occasion: Raskta had sought out the Sith pureblood shortly after he had returned to the planet from his last escapade, he had come to grips with one of his weaknesses and set out immediately to rectify the problem. “Now then, come.” The pureblood demanded as he raised his own weapon, its red blade beaming vividly in the darkness around him. Without a moment’s notice Raskta moved forward, igniting his lightsaber as he brought it forward into his favored Makashi stance. He closed in on the pureblood quickly and went for a lunge, which was intercepted and deflected downwards. Raskta fell forwards; he was sent off guard from the sudden misdirection and was rewarded with a knee planted firmly in his stomach. He immediately coughed as he caught himself with his free hand, continuing to run forward as soon as he got a hold of himself. He turned and entered his opening stance once more, the Sith pureblood simply staring the Echani down as if nothing had even happened. Raskta grit his teeth, having his attack so easily deflected and his defense so quickly broken was frustrating to someone who had pride attached to their combat. He couldn’t lose, if he lost it meant he was weak; and the weak died in this world. The strong were the ones who survived. “Do you really think you can touch me with such weak attacks?” The pureblood smiled devilishly, he was enjoying his job as much as one possibly could. But he saw openings in the Echanis stance. His footwork and technique was above average, but he lacked any means to really defend himself. It was clear to him up until this point Raskta had won by going all out on his opponents, killing them before they had a chance to truly strike back at him. From this point on however, it would be Raskta who died if he continued this repetitious style of fighting. “Come again, this time like you mean it, Raskta.” Raskta was obliged to comply, and immediately set out to strike the pureblood down one more time. This time he feinted, bring his weapon for a lunge but quickly redirecting it to strike from below. It swiped upwards towards the man’s face, which effortlessly deflected it upwards as he took a step back. Raskta kept the momentum, swinging his saber in his hand horizontally above him as he spun around for another strike from the side. Saber met saber once more, the pureblood grinning still as he pushed Raskta away from him. Every move he seemed to make countered whatever attack Raskta made, and it was truly making him angry. The man’s defense felt like it was almost impenetrable, and no matter how long they fought his demeanor didn’t change. Neither was sweating or tired out yet, but it was clear he would wear down first if he had to keep up the attack. But the pureblood refused to attack; for he didn’t need to.
  19. Dark Monarch

    Welona 21th, 3634 BBY Yavin IV, Fury-class Imperial Interceptor - Rive Weeks of searching, countless resources used to discover the final resting place of Darth Nox - that was the current situation of the Kaar of Sith Philosophy, and one he was growing frustrated with. Naga Sadow had kept everything a secret and refused to show his being once more, even with channeling the dark side through the Sith abattar, nothing would summon the spectre for information. HK had created a map of the surrounding area, though the information provided little for the search, it did provide the Kaar with vantage points when observing the area through the Force. The jungle moon gave plentiful setbacks, countless wildlife that got in the way and ancient ruins of Sith Temples that provided nothing except countless bones and dust. Beasts flew above day in and day out, their roars mirroring other Sithspawn, though the two-headed beasts with wings even trumped most others in sheer size. As the droid left the room, the Sith abattar glowed a violent shade of red, the ashes of Naga Sadow forming into his spectre, though half his body continued to stem from the abattar that was positioned on the table. Tablets that were recovered gave nothing, and the scrolls were tossed around the room - the only thing he had discovered was that Yavin had been a source of countless resting places for Sith. The spirit let out a low howl as it's voice finally rang to Darth Atrox, the Kaar looking up semi-amused as he extended out his hand across the table and placed the Sith relic on his neck as the metal struck his chest with a thud, the words of countless dead seemingly raising as one. "I have watched and waited. Countless weeks have been used by you to find what? The temples my Massassi servants built, the husks of their remains from Exar Kun's ritual - what you seek is not within the temples, but within the Force," as the spectre spoke, the energies slowly swirled around the room, encasing the room in thick burning ash, the light that stood in the room was practically nil as the former Dark Lord of the Sith moved it's metaphysical being around the room, observing the scrolls and taking in the knowledge that had required the Kaar to wear the Sith abattar to comprehend and write down within a data pad, "I can only gather so much information from these scrolls about your quest, most of them are useless - a fool's errand - you seek what lies deep within a cavern." "I seek everything, Naga Sadow," the words left the Kaar's mouth in a rough tone as he adapted to amulet's power, the golden metal's appearance coiling around the male's fingers as he steadied his breathing, though he seemed slightly off as the words chewed into his mind, the sounds of thousands crying out at once in a rage as if they were being sacrificed, the pure raw carnage echoing through their essence, "I must find everything, I need to find the answer for more power, not just in what you offer but through claiming what is rightfully mine," teeth gritted as the dark side raged beneath the Kaar's face, the scars along it becoming deeper as his features sunk. "I sense that you are bound to something, still locked in your chains by the woman, Sanguira, yet you say you will find everything? How does a Sith rule when there is an obstacle in the way, a creature set on limiting you," the words that were spoken by the spectre made the Kaar stand up and slam his fist against the durasteel, the rage he drew upon boiling deep within his core, "I can understand how one comes to think love can be used as a tool, but at the end of the day, you must ensure you are to rule. Emperor Cideon, Lord Regent Valerian, what's next? Emperor Valerian? No, what you must do is become a permanent replacement for them, you must embrace the title of the true Dark Lord of the Sith, and in return, you will provide me with influence under you," the spectre retorted at the Sith's rage, it's presence growing large as the room became further engulfed in darkness and as the darkness overtook Darth Atrox, he seen Naga Sadow's true form in his mind. "I will grow stronger, with or without you. Do not believe Sanguira will stay in my way, I already have what I seek, an heir to my legacy, and to the Empire - I am not weak like the rest of the Dark Council, I will oppose that which threatens me and destroy it, once I have mastered my abilities," the retort that left Darth Atrox's lips was in basic on the inside, but what echoed through the shuttle was a sickening resemblance of Ancient Sith words, the Kaar's fingers scraping against the durasteel table as he felt the rage deepen, "I am tired of being a lapdog for the Sith, if I am to become more, I must forsake what I had done," the words that were spoken afterwards brought a slight grin to the Sith Pureblood's face as the darkness receded and the Kaar was reintroduced to the realm outside his mind, the Kaar removing the amulet from his neck and placing it down onto the table as he felt the voices and texts recede back into his mind, silently sitting there. Darth Atrox strode through the jungle of Yavin IV, his weapon tightly gripped in his hand, his armor and robes attached to his body as he searched through the Force - alone and yet he held no fear, only rage. To be prodded by the spectre drew the worst of Darth Atrox out, the mere fact the spectre had the audacity to challenge him spoke measures about how confident the Sith Pureblood was with his enticing of power - and Darth Atrox hated how much he was enticed. Roars echoed above as dark figures flew through the air, their large beings casting shadows where the trees could not, the mere presence of them obscuring the Kaar's search for the cavern. The divergent paths of the Force were apparent on the planet, those that were on the light spectrum were heading in the opposite direction of those that held the dark side, the gargantuan figures preying upon the weak like the Sith preying upon the Jedi. What should have been minutes turned into hours as the Kaar continued to reach through the Force and search for some imprint, refusing to utilize his physical senses to find what was his destination, the sweat pouring from his brow as he sat upon one of the scattered boulders, trying to find a calm in the storm of dark side energies that flourished on the planet. Frustration grew as the Kaar pulled the amulet from a pouch located on his belt and placed it over his head, the screams of countless victims echoing at once as the Kaar slid off the boulder, his feet hitting the ground with a loud thud as he felt the effects pour from the artifact into his body - moving with it felt as if he had been intoxicated with countless amounts of alcohol. The poison of the dark side coursing through every limb as it contaminated his flesh, the sulfuric eyes of the male soon turned a bright red as he stared forward, the vessels in his eyes slowly popping as he moved slowly and painfully forward - his lack of practice while moving with the amulet becoming obvious. What seemed like a day passed as Darth Atrox made his way towards one of the gargantuan temples of Yavin IV, the voices almost rising in unison, their screams encasing the Kaar in a deafening silence as he drew on the pain and agony from the Sith abattar, drawing deeper into his core as he reached out with his palm. Dark side energies churned as the Kaar let out a vocal growl as the energies started to churn in the male's hand, the power becoming physical as sparks of telekinetic energy began to form, soon the electrical telekinetic energies took form of a ball, the Kaar forcing his hand forward as he let out a pained shout, the energies contorting as they flew towards the temple's entrance. The ball of telekinetic energy struck home as the entrance way slowly creaked under the pressure, the ball continuing to go forward as it fought against the resistant material, before finally the gigantic doors collapsed inwards revealing darkness and a slight snarl echoed from above, the Kaar tearing the amulet from his neck as he placed it back into the sack on his belt, his eyes momentarily shifting towards the skies as one of the gargantuan creatures landed before him, the trees surrounding it being forced into the ground or levelled by the mere pressure exerted. The wind practically knocked Darth Atrox off his feet as he planted his heels into the soil, skidding back as he let out a slight chuckle, his own sanity taking it's time to replenish as the Kaar activated his blade and leapt forward, moving at an unusual speed for a man of his size and stature, his boots planting firmly into the soil as he darted around the creature, only for a singular head to snap towards him and soon the other followed. Drawing on the Force as he felt the air pressure of the two heads try to cut the Kaar off from his exit, his very being twisting as the Force beneath him provided him with a significant boost to his acrobatic ability, his feet leaving the ground with enough pressure to spew mud upwards, and as the creature finally realized it's prey was no longer there, the Kaar had taken hold of his advantage, his feet landing onto the scales of the creature, his blade activating as he attempted to force it between the scales, he found almost complete resistant as the smell of burning flesh poured from beneath the scales, the Kaar's grin widening as he held his blade in a reverse grip, his feet planting firmly as the creature turned towards the Kaar, both heads snarling as the Kaar extended out his hand towards the creature. Domination of the mind, at least for creatures was significantly easily, though with a creature with two brains, the Kaar exerted out more dark side energies as he slowly twisted his will onto the creature, clouding the two-headed being with a sickening miasma of dark side energies, the creature lowering it's head slowly to the Kaar as he slowly walked across the expanse of the creature's back, his sanity becoming clear as his features returned to normal. He did not fear the creature, it's majestic form and deadliness was impressive, but very few creatures could deny the ability of creating a Force bond, the creature back on Korriban being the only thing the Kaar was knowledgeable about being able to resist the effects of it, though the creature was by definition even more powerful than the being he stood upon. "The battle hydra, one of the very few Sith war mounts that spread chaos amongst those that met it, and even though they are formidable, only one steeped in the dark side can truly tame one with hasty preparations, their wills bent to serve those that could become one with the dark side, a light side would have been devoured already," the voice of Naga Sadow echoed outwards as his ash form took his figure, the arm of the spectre reaching up to press against the creature's face, the creature almost acknowledging the touch as it eased into the spectre's hand, "I don't think you understand the true powers within you, Darth Atrox. To deny the dark side to the extent you have, you must embrace it fully and find an unmarked tomb, not one that is steeped in the screams of the dead, of the Massassi that served as their master's true power, though you will find these.. creatures in where you look, bound servants who will do anything to protect them, but you now know the artifact in your hands is more powerful than you know, it will bring out the strength within you - only through suffering can a Sith truly experience power..." "I now know what to do, I must embrace what is set before me - I must become the next true Sith'ari," the Ancient Sith that left the Kaar's lips almost echoed as he looked at the battle hydra, it's green flesh shimmering as the Kaar smiled momentarily, though his features returned to normal as his blade sunk deep into the creature's one eye socket, soon striking the brain before the Kaar reached into the dark side, drawing on the energies to release more built up energy within him, the telekinetic energies seeking the second skull as the Kaar's arm shot forth, caving in the skull of the creature, "I will surpass Darth Cideon and Darth Valerian." As the creature slumped into the ground, the Kaar let out a sigh as he started to walk back towards the Fury-class Imperial Interceptor, his limbs feeling heavy as a grin was placed upon his face. Those that denied themselves goals and those that denied themselves the true emotions that dwelt in the dark side were fools, only through suffering and hatred could someone become purified by the dark side and bathe in it's glory, though everything had a price. Post Information
  20. Smile, Learn.

    Coruscant, Jedi Temple 3rd of Elona, 3632 BBY. Violet aimlessly drifted through the contents of the holopad in her hands, her delicate fingers swiping downwards on its clear, prismatic surface. She had a friendly smile on her face, the same type of same you’d see on a mother sending her children off to their first day of school. It gave her a peaceful atmosphere as she sat in her chair with her legs to her chest. She hummed slightly as she neared the end of the content, the holopad coming to an abrupt halt as it reached the bottom of its knowledge. With a satisfied stretch she gently dropped it down on the desk in front of her and looked around. It was certainly a busy day: Padawans, knights and masters alike were everywhere to be seen. It was nice to see so many people interacting with one another, and the odd person gave her a nod or friendly ‘Hello’ with which she returned naturally. No matter how long she stared, the polished stone walls of the Temple always amazed her. Drawn along the walls were famous Jedi, projected holographically for everyone to see. Violets eyes drifted from holo to holo, eventually resting on the large dodecahedron monument she could spy from her room. A magnificently crafted decoration, if she said so herself. Suddenly realizing she had gotten lost in the beauty of the Temple, she suddenly shot up out of her chair and grabbed the holopad off her desk: she’d completely forgotten the time! She erupted into a mad dash for the Temples library, following the same route she did every day to get there in a timely manner. Just as she rounded the corner a figure popped out of nowhere and stopped her dead in her tracks. The twi’lek folded his arms and leaned back slightly, obviously sizing up the young Jedi Knight as he stroked his chin with his right hand. “Late again, Knight Virai?” The man asked with a smile, jesting as he moved aside and offered entrance into the library. “They’ve already started, just make sure you enter quietly now.” Violet quickly bowed, a thank you barely leaving her lips as she began to run yet again; hardly having a chance to even catch her breath. Once Violet reached the inner library, she made her way to a small room that was full of bright young faces and a single old man. They all got visibly excited once she entered the room, rushing over to hug her legs and offer greetings as the elder Jedi simply remained in his seat, amused by how the children greeted her. When everyone returned to their seating placements she approached the Master and bowed slightly. “I’m sorry Master; I got caught up in my studies again.” She stayed bowed for a good few moments, waiting for a reply, but the man simply laughed. Violet lifted her head with a quizzical look, but it was obvious he didn’t mind. It was a frequent occurrence that Violet was late, and she was known to easily get her head lost in the clouds. Despite that, she studied hard and showed great progress so most of the times it wasn’t a big deal. “Its quite alright. Now that you’re here, I’ll take my leave Violet.” The old man smiled once again, offering a slight bow that she returned before he departed leaving just Violet and the small group of Jedi younglings. Once he had cleared the room entirely, she breathed in heavily and composed herself. Breaking out into another friendly smile, she set the holopad down in front of her and took a seat in front of the children. The title of the holo article read “Force forms: meditative battle stances”, it had been the topic of discussion for the last few classes she had with them. After looking at it for a brief moment, she pushed her hair behind her ear and offered them a smile before continuing with the usual lesson. It involved talking about a lot of theory, followed by some meditative practice. The stances they were taught varied between normal meditative stances, and the battle stances used in force forms. The only two the younglings were formally taught included Force Channel and Force Affinity, the other two being too dangerous and advanced for such young minds. They needed to focus on the basics and how to keep themselves, their emotions, under control. Being the friendly cheerful person she always was, this made her popular with many of the children she taught. Eventually the lesson came to an end, other masters and knights entering the room for the next lessons or training sessions. Violet exited after bowing respectively, waving at the children with a smile before she started walking down the hallway. She cradled the holopad in her arms, humming cheerfully once again as she contemplated what was next for her that day. Perhaps she would read more in the library? As much as she enjoyed it, she was in far too good of a mood to stay locked up reading the entire day. The world was big, there was so much to see. The idea of training with her lightsaber made her want to whine; she was absolutely terrible with anything physically demanding. While her theory and studies were great, her practical martial training was anything but that. As she entered the main corridor she stopped walking and scratched her head, there was far too much to do even just in the temple alone. It was then she reminded herself: A consular must be decisive! On a whim she decided to head to what was being used as the training area now, though with no particular idea about what to do once she got there. Surprisingly it wasn’t that busy when she arrived, only a few knights and masters being present without any lessons taking place. She considered herself lucky, the less people saw her practice the better in her opinion. Awkwardly finding a place far from the others, Violet put down the holopad and took her lightsaber in hand. Looking positively inexperienced and maybe even afraid of the blade, she let it fly loose when she gripped it properly and entered a basic Niman stance. It wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t perfect. The movements that followed could be considered good for practice, but she knew all too well she couldn’t do them that well in actual combat. Regardless, she soldiered on.
  21. The First Crusher

    Morgana had ended up needing to check on Seth for longer than she had anticipated as he had a life-threatening emergency come up. The doctors saw him revive for the third time, the previous times seeing Morgana earning his trust to a degree, only for his heart to flutter followed by an attempt on Seth's part to break free. Using telepathy to keep herself at a distance but still communicate, she compelled Seth into relaxing as only she could by promising she'd be there for him to ensure his safety via false feelings of affection that cooled his temperament before she came back to Castell to continue the training she had in store for Whips. This time, she wanted to see if Ms Whitewolf could have the makings of someone who could Force Choke. Though her last performance was a bit over the top, it told Morgana that Whips had the potential for so much more when it came to the Dark Side. It was simply a matter of triggering it and ensuring she could be used to exact her revenge against Hyperion or breeding the weapon that would. That would mean finding a target to eventually trigger the power if possible without it being Morgana herself as it was too risky even if she did not expect she'd die from it. No, someone in town with a grudge for Whips would have to do and preferably someone with no qualms about sacrificing their lives to have their revenge. Surprisingly, someone with a grudge was easier to find than Morgana had expected given the killer appetite of the alter ego Whips had donned on when she first met her, the difficulty was in securing their cooperation. So Morgana promised to make sure they had their chance at revenge and even asked the sorry Zabrak sap who volunteered to be the pilot which he gladly agreed to in a heartbeat. With the plan set in motion, Morgana left a message pinned to the front door of Whips in a piece of flimsiplast. "Li, this is Morgana. As soon as you acquire this note, head to the same place we trained before. The next power I intend to help you acquire might be of interest to you, I think. Morgana" said the note which was attached with a tack before Morgana left, heading out to the lands of their previous training session.
  22. A Lesson In Unorthodox Fencing

    Now that Inoy had built his lightsaber, Tethys knew he was ready for the next phase of training that she had in mind. She was, of course, referring to a return in the usage of Jar'Kai for him. Just as much as knowing Jar'Kai had served her well when her master fell to Ishido's blade, so too did she believe it would serve Inoy well should he have a comrade who was immobilized and/or injured in the field of battle or on a mission. Besides that, Jar'Kai was a classic skill for someone like him that would likely be handy for someone like him who seemed to be the type to specialize in the lightsaber, making it possible that he could make for a good Guardian when he was made into a Knight. She made sure to let him know that they were going to have a lesson in Jar'Kai and would be using training staffs to get him started in learning this unorthodox art. She now merely awaited his arrival to begin what she hoped would be his final training lesson before being shown to be ready to go on their first mission together. While she did hope that it would involve going back to the Hutt Syndicate territories where her work had been when she met Inoy, if a mission was possible, she was not unwilling to go elsewhere if it was needed. She would let the will of the Force decide whether or not they were even mission-worthy at this point, for that matter.
  23. Flash of the Blade

    Mandalore, 15th Welona, 3634 BBY Every part of her hurt. Sihna could feel the ache of muscles she hadn’t even realised she had, much less that they were useable. Training from the day before had left her battered and bruised, the extent of her soreness unknown until the next morning. Which explained why she felt like she’d been run over by a herd of banthas. Still, Sihna dragged herself out of bed before dawn, well aware that every minute she spent grumbling about her sore muscles was a minute of training lost. Night owl or no, Sihna wasn’t planning on wasting any of the opportunities Black had chosen to offer her. Even if they did leave her feeling like complete osik. It was a struggle to strap on each piece of armor, more than one earning muffled insults as strapping them on added to the distinct pain of her entire body. But somehow it actually felt good as each muscle stretched despite the soreness, a testament to something new, something she’d never ventured into before. It felt like she had accomplished something, even if that something was simply to get beaten up in a new and interesting way. Like with explosives. Still, Sihna tied her hair back quickly and snagged her helmet from the bedside, clipping it to her side as she ducked out of the room. No doubt Black had some new level of torture waiting for her, and she wasn’t about to miss it. Sihna spun the smallest of the blades Black had presented her with in her hand, by far more comfortable with this weapon than any of the previous ones. Knives had been one of Sihna’s choice weapons in the past five years, serving her well in the arena and outside. She had trained to be melee ever since the disaster that had left her half crippled and blind in her left eye, and so the sword that was set on the table was a familiar sight to her, a fact that allowed Sihna some measure of relief. Not that the lesson was going to be any less painful, she was sure, but at least it would be something she could grasp the basics of. “You don’t look quite as tense,” Corey observed, coming up behind her and lifting one eyebrow as Sihna turned. “Blades I understand,” Sihna explained, continuing to spin the knife in her hand. “There’s a lot to learn but…” “But you don’t feel like an ad’ika again, learning the rote basics,” Black finished for her, earning a sharp nod from Sihna in confirmation. She’d known learning new weapons and concepts would be challenging, but feeling like she hadn’t even the faintest idea of what she was doing had been more trying than she’d anticipated. The physical demands of training she was prepared for- sore and aching muscles were a familiar friend. It was the mental strain that had taken her by surprise, leaving her feeling more drained than she’d planned for. Black had been nothing but patient in his teaching, allowing her to discover the weapons for herself as she went on and providing feedback when needed. He was nothing like her buir, whose style consisted of disapproval, insults, and repeating a task over and over again until it was done perfectly, often without any instruction as to the intended result beforehand. And yet with each failure, Sihna still felt like the small child who was in far over her head. She was drowning in the knowledge of her own ignorance, and it was easy to see herself as useless and inept. Logic told her it was ridiculous, but another part of her still found the process utterly exhausting. So to return to something she was at least familiar with… “It’s nice to at least stand on my own two feet,” Sihna said finally, the words far too simple to express everything she meant, but an answer all the same. Corey said nothing, simply offering a nod before turning to choose weapons. Sihna remained silent, grateful that he hadn’t chosen to dwell on the reasons behind her frustration. “You know the basics, but so far you’ve been relying on tenacity to get you through a fight,” Corey explained, choosing two swords and placing them on the table before them. “It’s served you well enough, but if you pair that with greater skill, you’ll win more fights than you lose,” he explained. “You know how to get up when you’ve been knocked down. So let’s make it so that you get knocked down less often.” Sihna smiled slightly. “That would be nice,” she acknowledged. “You’re small, use that to your advantage,” Corey instructed with a chuckle, passing her a blade. Sihna checked the weight carefully before swinging it a couple of times, trying to get acquainted with the feel and grip of the weapon. “You try to go toe-to-toe with a much larger opponent when you should be utilizing speed and agility. Let them tire themselves out expending strength on a target that is constantly moving.” “I don’t have speed and agility,” Sihna pointed out, slashing sideways with the blade and readjusting her grip on the hilt before repeating the motion, this time with a much more desirable result. “You will if you practice it,” Black countered. Footwork was amongst the first things Sihna had been taught when she’d moved to melee weapons, as it was a fundamental foundation of the entire practice. But Black took it a step further, forcing her into more and more complex situations that happened faster and faster, pushing her to rely more on muscle memory than conscious thought, a challenge that forced her outside of her comfort zone and into a field that was well beyond her own experience levels. More than once she found herself backed into a corner of her own making, a lack of foresight leading to the sharp rap of Black’s weapon against her neck, waist, or spine. Each time Sihna stepped back, eyes narrowed as she reviewed the match in her head, trying to see where she had gone wrong and where she might improve in the future. Sihna rubbed the back of her neck gingerly before resetting across from Black, rolling her neck once more before offering a simple nod. Black lunged forward without hesitation, beginning the match. Sihna ducked Black’s first strike, shuffling her feet to keep him well within her field of view, a feat that was made all the more difficult by her blind eye. Black surged forward and Sihna struggled to match his footwork, stumbling when she misjudged the step and had to scramble to keep her balance. Black left her no time for recovery, swinging in and slashing. Sihna dodged sideways but couldn’t avoid the blow that Corey softened to a sharp tap on her collarbone. She winced and reset, reacting when Black lunged again. This time she sidestepped correctly, setting herself up to block the second and third strikes from Black’s blade before he advanced and she mimicked his movements, careful not to cross her steps or trip herself, always ready to dodge sideways or back. It was a far more complicated mindset than she was used to having to think in, forcing her to keep her options open, or at the very least understand those she was closing. When Black circled sideways, Sihna mirrored his motions, keeping him carefully in view. He advanced and she set her feet, using her position to deflect the first blow, but twisting wrong and allowing his second to land sharply at her waist. She hissed in frustration but stepped back once more. Black waited until she gave a sharp nod, at which point he lunged forward in a new attack, forcing her to adapt once more. The drills continued, sometimes Sihna was able to defend longer and keep her footwork coordinated to match the attacks, feints, and dodges Corey presented her with, while at other times her defenses unraveled quickly and the round ended with a solid win for Corey. Soon the drills became even faster and Sihna fought to keep up, ignoring the strain in her muscles as Corey’s blows hammered down, sometimes dodged and sometimes absorbed by Sihna’s armor. Eventually she was able to keep pace, though she was well-aware that Corey often pulled his own attacks in order to match her level. Despite the fact he had more experience than her, the gap irritated her and she pushed herself harder, forcing herself to greater speed and accuracy despite the tired protests of her abused muscles. More than once she was forced to reign in her temper, the danger of losing it a lesson Black didn’t need to teach her. It was perhaps the one concept that wasn’t touched upon, as Sihna had yet to allow anger to dictate her actions. It had been taught to her years ago, first by her buir and then by the arena. When she felt the sharp slap of Black’s weapon against a weakness Sihna had left open, her mind turned from irritation to analysis quickly, trying to discover her misstep. Everything else, however, she was still forced to step back and relearn. More than once, frustration lashed at her as she stepped through an action again and again, forcing her muscles to remember what had just been taught. More often than not her mind understood the instruction, but her body fell back on old habits, earning a sharp rap from Black’s own blade. It was maddening, and yet Sihna could tell she was slowly improving. Black came at her and Sihna made the mistake of falling back on instinct, stepping sideways only for Black to dodge her strike, swiping his blade low and sweeping her feet out from under her. Sihna hit the floor hard, the breath knocked out of her even as Black stood above her, eyebrows lifted. “What did you do wrong?” he asked, ever patient. Sihna took a moment to catch her breath, the air driven out of her lungs by her less than graceful landing. “Everything,” she answered him finally, her voice a gasp for breath, earning a laugh as Black reached down to help her back to her feet. “Again,” he said simply and Sihna nodded, retrieving her blade and resetting once more. Finally Sihna was forced to call a halt, leaning over and resting her hands on her knees as she fought to catch her breath after a particularly intense set of drills. She looked up at Black, scowling as she took in his easy stance, seemingly only slightly winded. “How… are you... still going?” Sihna heaved, her breath coming in short gasps as she looked up at Corey in disbelief. “You’re like a shabla machine.” Corey removed his helmet, running one hand through his hair with a smile. “Practice,” he answered simply. Sihna rolled her eyes, standing up straight and grimacing at the protest of her already sore muscles. “I’m really starting to hate that answer, you know,” she accused, but the smile that pulled at her features belied her tone. In truth she relished the challenge. It was a chance to stretch her skills, pitting herself against one of the best. Granted he could probably wipe the floor with her if he felt so inclined, but the challenge alone was enough for Sihna to push the fatigue aside in order to face another match.
  24. Whirlwind

    Dantius had listened to what Coventry had said about training and when he was fairly recovered (i.e. he was no longer having to rely on a foot cast for his wound). Heading over to a Jedi Training Chamber, despite still having a slight limp even without needing the cast, he decided that he would focus on building up his Force powers while he was recovering as opposed to constantly working on the lightsaber or his body. Besides needing more time to recover completely, he also knew that the profession he had in mind for joining was not the kind of profession where he could rely strictly on the lightsaber or his martial arts. The first power he had in mind was one he had heard of and it was one that he had been interested in for some time, even when under his first mentor. Its name was Force Whirlwind and it was a power that he had heard would also allow him to conduct feats like Force Repulse with enough time and effort put into practicing. When he arrived into the chamber, he decided to focus on a specific object and manipulating the air currents around it but at the same time, he didn't want to start with anything too big. So, despite the fact he had done his best to risk not settling for the manipulation of air currents under it. The fact that he had mastered the Force Push already meant that he knew that manipulation of air currents for his intended result would give him understanding of the power. Okay, let's see if I can do this with my lightsaber first then I'll upgrade to one of the crates at the corner. If I can do it with one of those, I'll consider the power fairly well grasped. Unless I decide I want to see if I can pull everything in a maelstrom around me Dantius thought, teasing himself silently. When he did place his lightsaber on the floor, he stepped twenty paces from it before it beginning, promising that he would see the signs of mastery of the power when it was swirling around him. Calming himself, he decided to recite the Jedi Code in his head to clear his thoughts of anything that would be even slightly distracting. When he was successful in this regard, he decided to say to himself one word and the keyword he found was 'whirlwind' in reference to the power. He even made himself think of the whirlwind shape shape as he had seen it in coloring books when he was a child and even in logos for various businesses. Meanwhile, nothing was happening just except for shifts in the air which were not powerful enough to move anything yet but they were noticeable to anyone passing by. It would be a sign of progress if Dantius was not focused on developing mastery of the power as opposed to fixating on the signs of progress.
  25. A Shot in the Dark

    Mandalore, 14th Welona, 3634 BBY Training day. The word had sounded so much less intimidating when Corey had suggested it. Sihna Dreysel stared down at the table before her, teal and gold helmet tucked firmly beneath her arm as she studied the variety of weapons laid out before her. Black was being thorough, that much was for certain. Displayed on the table was a pistol, a repeating blaster, a set of knives, and a mass of wires and boxes that Sihna recognized as breach charges. “Pick a starting point,” Black said from his position behind her, seeming slightly amused by her expression. Sihna frowned, eyes scanning the weapons as she considered. Most she’d never touched before in her life, other than the blades. But only one inspired a sense of hesitation, and that was the pistol. She’d used one five years ago and never since. Not when it had let her down so terribly. A fact she knew had more to do with her lack of training with the weapon at the time, but the knowledge did little to lessen the unease that coiled in the pit of her stomach. “Pistol,” she stated finally. If it was the one she was most nervous about, then that was the place to start. “You know the basics?” Black asked, picking it up and handling the smooth weapon calmly even as Sihna stared at it stiffly. Stupid, to be afraid of a weapon she’d grown up around, that people around her used every day. Stupid, and yet even the thought of using the pistol threatened to send her mind spiraling back five years, to the day one such pistol had let her down in a way that was nearly fatal. “It’s been five years,” Sihna managed tightly, struggling to control the tone of her voice. “A refresher might not be bad.” Black simply nodded, flipping the pistol to show the power pack, gas cartridge, and safety switch. “What do you know?” Sihna was quiet a moment, remembering a similar question posed to her when she had first learned the weapon. A voice far more impatient and less understanding of mistakes made. Her father had taught her very little, and what he had taught her had been done in a way that was hard and unyielding. She’d recited the facts back to him over and over again until she could manage it perfectly, without a single slip up. Sihna’s voice was quick and sharp when she answered, half of her thoughts still in the past with her father standing over her, a frown etched into his forehead. “Grip should be seated solidly in your hand to keep the pistol from bucking as much as possible,” Sihna recited. “Basic safety, don’t point it in a direction you don’t intend to fire, finger off the trigger until you’re ready to fire, squeeze the trigger slowly when you are firing. And if it doesn’t fire, you probably have the safety on,” she added, a small smile twisting her lips. Black nodded, showing the pistol pointedly. “Gas cartridge is here,” he said, tapping the piece with one gloved finger. “Power cartridge here, safety here, and release switch for the power pack here,” Black explained, pointing out each piece as he spoke. “Gas cartridge will be changed less often than the power pack. Carry extras with you to avoid being backed into a corner with no way out.” Black slid the pistol across the table to her, stepping back and waiting for her to make a move. Sihna stared down at the pistol before her, scowling as she took in its smooth lines and the sharp edges. It had been five years since she’d picked one up, and she had planned to keep that record going for another ten at least. But Black stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at her through the T-Visor of his helmet. She was well aware that he could be looking anywhere in the shabla room with the HUD inside his buy’ce. However, that knowledge did nothing to lessen the intimidation factor of the black visor. Sihna’s scowl deepened as she looked back to the pistol that sat on the table, taunting her. She could ask for help. She hadn’t picked up a pistol since the attack that had left her half blind and limping for the rest of her life, but pride reared its head and Sihna gritted her teeth against the idea. The last thing she needed was to stand there looking like a hutuun’la child, too useless to use one hand and too cowardly to use the other. Especially in front of the famous Corey Black. She settled her helmet over her head silently, twisting it to engage the seal that closed with a distinctive hiss. Dead hand or no, she was determined to face every weapon Black showed her and if not conquer it, then at least be able to handle it without killing herself. With that thought in mind, Sihna reached for the pistol, expression carefully controlled beneath her helmet as she brushed her right hand against the cold metal. Sihna picked it up carefully in her good hand, the weapon feeling awkward and clumsy in her grip as she struggled to fit the grip to her offhand. Even before, when she’d been able to handle one of these with at least some sort of proficiency, she had been using her dominant hand. Something that was no longer an option. Trying to switch to other hand just felt wrong, and she fumbled to get the pistol seated correctly. Black stepped forward, covering her gloved hand with his and he adjusted the pistol to sit comfortably in her hand. Without a word he stepped back, jerking his chin to indicate she should continue. She bit the inside of her cheek hard, anger flashing through her that even such a simple task had required aid. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Corey remove his helmet, his expression calm and reassuring. Sihna felt herself relax ever so slightly, having expected anger or at the very least impatience. Breathe, Sihna. Or you’ll shoot your other foot off and have to get around in a repulsor chair, she berated herself. Sihna sighed, hefting the pistol and pointing it downrange. Arm straight, tilt your head to sight with your dominant eye, she repeated to herself. Or, in your case, the only eye that works. The sights of the pistol shook in her view as her arm bobbed up and down, the target dipping in and out of sight with abandon. Not exactly ideal… Sihna took a breath and tried to steady herself. She tilted her head before curling her lip in anger as she lost sight of the target through her good eye. Sihna bit her tongue, resisting the urge to just pull the trigger repeatedly and hope she hit something. Barely. “Straighten your arm,” Corey’s voice came from behind her, patient as ever. Sihna took a deep breath before complying, struggling against the shake that had nothing to do with the years away from handling the pistol. “Calm down.” “Easy for you to say,” Sihna growled in reply, forgetting herself in her frustration. Still, she set the pistol down a moment, leaning her head back as she took a slow breath. Finally, she raised her arm again, this time focusing on each step individually, counting off the checklist in her mind one by one. The pistol still trembled unsteadily, but this time she could believe that she might actually hit the target. Or at least come closer to it. Sihna took a last, steadying breath before slowly squeezing the trigger. The sound of the blaster shattered the silence and Sihna let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, lowering the pistol to peer downrange. “Well… You hit the target,” Black chuckled behind her. “Barely. Switch out the power pack before the next shot. Then the gas cartridge. Swap them out until it feels natural.” Sihna couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips as she looked back to the pistol. Sure, she wasn’t a crack shot. But she also hadn’t failed too miserably. She fumbled slightly as she struggled to remove the power pack, but she held up a hand when Black stepped forward to help. This was something she wanted to understand on her own. The fact he’d had to help her already was enough for her pride to rear up once more, needling her to handle it herself. She narrowed her eyes, studying the switch that held the pack in place. She ran one finger over it carefully, struggling to reacquaint herself with the mechanisms she had once been so familiar with. Spotting a small groove, Sihna fit her thumb into the space carefully, pressing down and using her fingers to balance the pistol in her hand. She knew she could use her damaged hand to hold the pistol steady, but it was a habit she wouldn’t want to have to rely on in the middle of a firefight. Best not to learn it now only to have to retrain herself later. After a moment of struggling, Sihna managed to slide the release, allowing the power pack to fall into her hand. She palmed it, sliding it onto the table and picking up the fresh one in the same motion. She swapped it out quickly, fumbling only slightly as she clicked the new one back into place. She lifted the pistol again, a frown creasing her forehead as she focused on the target downrange. Sihna pulled the trigger slowly once more, pistol shaking marginally less as she sighted down the barrel. This time she was more solidly on the target, though far from what someone might call a well-placed shot. Still, if it came down to it, she was starting to believe she might have a chance to hit something if it was demanded of her. She fell into the rhythm quickly, firing one shot and setting the pistol down to switch out the power pack or the gas cartridge as instructed. Soon she began setting the pistol down fully, picking it back up to learn how best to seat it in her right hand. It proved to be more difficult than picking up the skills she had left behind so long ago, her mind balking at the wrongness of it all. More than once she reached with her left hand, hissing at herself through her teeth in consternation anytime her useless fingers came into contact with the pistol as if they could hold it like they once had. Each time, the shots afterwards were more random, less controlled as she struggled to regain her focus in the face of the remainder of her failures. She felt like she was bashing her head against a stone wall over and over again, struggling to regain muscle memory and a knowledge that had been allowed to stagnate for so long. Still, each round her hand became steadier, her shots more controlled and falling into a pattern that was more or less predictable. When Black finally called a halt, Sihna’s arm was shaking with fatigue, her muscles already protesting the extended use that she’d neglected for years.
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