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Yusan Rasudan    133

Top portion requires no reading, just providing some backstory as to why Yusanulis is training to learn more about his heritage and how he is struggling with the differences between Eshan Echani martial arts and Thyrsus Echani martial arts.


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


Force Powers: Force Mend

Training Echani Martial Arts.


Thread is set up for whatever and open to whoever, just thought it'd be something I would try. As the first spoiler says, you don't need to read before the line.


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Iman Zana    10

Iman did not know what she should have expected of Anaxes when she disembarked from the transport, but another city-planet was not on the top of her list. She had heard stories about Coruscant when she lived on Ryloth but to have seen it first hand was a moment she likely would never forget. For there to be more than one world with that much infrastructure and that many people was simply incredible. It was leaps ahead of what she had lived in on Ryloth, when she had a home, and parsecs beyond even that when she was homeless. That people built these great structures was one thing, but to see that there was greenery interlaced within the city was something that Coruscant could not say it possessed. It was astounding to see the blending of technological advancement coupled with the natural world so seamlessly. 


Anaxes really was an amazing place, and much more than she had anticipated when she embarked on her journey to the so-called Defender of the Core. A world with such a name struck her as one that should have been more militaristic, and yet it was remarkably tame by comparison. The great number of trainees that moved in unison as hopefuls to be the next stalwart defenders of the Republic in her army and navy brightened her days even more. There was something to be said about those that willingly traverse battlefields in the name of peace and freedom, even if she and the military minds in the Republic would have disagreed on how peace was to be achieved. She was an idealist, not a fool, and she knew the Sith and the Empire would stop at nothing until they controlled the galaxy.


It was for that reason, that Iman sought the miltary minds on Anaxes, that she might better prepare her body and spirit to face the travails of war against their common enemy. She had spent the first few nights of her visit meditating in solitude on the Jedi Code, and on what those words meant to her as she prepared to embark on yet another learning experience outside the Temple. The minds of the masters in the Jedi Order were calmed by the Force, and a beacon of guidance to the Light. Those souls that populated the military did not often share the same sympathies as Jedi, regardless of their mutual enmity for the Empire. Iman was much the same in that respect. Though she was prepared to learn what she could and should do to help defend the peace in the galaxy, she did not share the military's penchant for solving problems by killing those responsible for them. It was not the first time her pacifism had caused a personal dilemma, but the ancient adage said that those who desire peace the most must prepare to fight in order to preserve it. The statement seemed backwards, but she could see the wisdom in it when she considered the other option in regards to the Republic and how it dealt with the Sith Empire.


Today though, she had broken her solitude to seek out knowledge among the trainers in the miltary. It was an alternative perspective that she felt was necessary to be able to discern when and where it was she should act in opposition to the Sith. The Force was not free with the insight it offered, and while she felt a very strong connection to it, she could not say that she ever had any visions of the future to grant her the insight she sought. It was an exercise of the mind she had come for, but an exercise of the body is what pulled her attention away from her search. A sparring match between a man that was clearly not Republic military based on look alone, let alone the imprint he left in the Force, and an opponent that stood on firm ground had piqued her interest. Martial arts were a noble pursuit, one capable of solving disputes where diplomacy had failed in a non-lethal manner, and one she had taken to herself. She had found the military training pits, but she had found something that could be a worthwhile and educational diversion. There was only knowledge, after all, and it would have been foolish of her to not accept the potential lesson before her when the Force guided her to Anaxes in the first place.


The fight lasted long enough for Iman to know that what they were practicing was quite different from Broken Gate. The Twi'lek had excelled in the Jedi martial art enough to spot the difference fairly quickly, which made her all the more curious. It was decidedly more aggressive, and to the point. Her initial assessment was that it was an attacking art, rather than a defending art. She had adopted the rule that she should not harm others if possible, but she should not allow them to harm her as well. It was a decidedly self-defensive mindset, and one that seemed at odds with what she had watched. Still, she did not notice anything about the match in question that suggested it was meant to be purely lethal, which meant it was a discipline she could apply to her own quest to master her body and mind. A martial art something a Jedi could use to center themselves in battle, to remain calm and connected to the Force despite the chaotic nature of a fight. That was why she had chosen Soresu as her preferred lightsaber form as well. A battle where emotions ran wild was a dangerous place for anyone, but to remain centered on the Force, and specifically on the Light was a gift that Jedi Masters could claim that she pursued herself.


Iman had decided, that the time to speak to the stranger was when he was not quite so focused on his form and technique. She made no effort to conceal herself from him, she did not feel as if he was a hostile entity, nor did she present herself in a hostile way, so she jumped down into the pit herself and walked toward the figure to seat herself across from his meditation. The Twi'lek could feel the Light flowing through him, it was a comfort to know that she was not the only Jedi on Anaxes, and that the man before her walked the same path. She crossed her legs and remained silent, so as to not interrupt his meditation, and instead entered her own meditative state. The Force was always worthy of her time and attention, and so she tried to mirror the man in opening herself to the Light. It was the path of a Jedi, and a path she had dedicated herself to, and it only felt right to not impose herself too much more than she had. She exhaled quietly and let go the anxiety of meeting a stranger on a foreign world. "There is no emotion, there is only peace..." she recited to herself mentally, focusing on the Force entirely and releasing any feelings of fear from her mind. Iman wanted to be entirely focused on the Force, and allowing the calm of the Light to replace the disquiet.

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Vesrai Falk    9

Anaxes. The military world had become a second home to her in a sense. Vesrai spent more time here than on Corellia anymore, it seemed, working with the troops and training her own abilities. Oly had spent their apprenticeship teaching Vesrai as much as she could learn, including training her to expand her mind, to use the Force like she could any other muscle, pushing in order to strengthen it as much as she could. But even after so many years it was a struggle for her. Her connection to the Force was limited, and so she adapted, choosing instead to make her body a weapon that could be used, even without what had made her a Jedi.


She could feel the rough cloth of the blindfold against her skin, the fabric brushing against her closed eyelids as she waited. Listening. She could feel the bruises that littered her face and body, a few scrapes testifying to the harder falls she had taken in the course of this training match. She was going to have to do her absolute best to avoid Zyann for the next few days to avoid a tongue lashing for the amount of injuries the Green Jedi was managing to accumulate, even if they were minor in comparison to the ones that had forced a visit to the med centers. Still, she doubted Zyann would approve of just how hard Vesrai was pushing herself.


But things had changed. Vesrai now stood a knight, no longer a Padawan. The change had left her to find a new balance, to forge her own path. And doing so had thus far led here. To the military, in an effort to repair the strained relationship between the soldiers and the Jedi who fought alongside them. If that meant she needed to take a few bruises, she would gladly do so. Especially if it allowed her to strengthen her own skills in the process.


Vesrai’s breath was coming fast, sweat taking the loose curls that had escaped their bindings and slicking them to her forehead. She could hear the sounds of the training pit, feel the shift of the dirt beneath her feet as she listened.


Vesrai had found she preferred the efficiency and speed of Teras Kasi over the Broken Gate, which made the training grounds at Anaxes all the more valuable. But she was lacking in speed and the focus that allowed Teras Kasi to be so effective against Force users. Vesrai knew her mind was far from being impenetrable, her own weak connection to the Force working against her, and so she was turning to other methods. Methods that utilised her emotions, turning them into a shield as well as a weapon. A skill she was still struggling to learn, as was evidenced by the bruises that bespoke of the distractions that had led to harsh lessons.


She heard it then, the soft fall of a footstep and the shift that spoke of movement. Vesrai moved to try to catch her opponent, bringing her hand up to his jaw in hopes of using his weight against him to flip her opponent, but the man reacted before Vesrai could, slapping the attack aside and aiming a kick at the back of her knee, taking out her support even as she moved to anticipate and move with the motion, hoping to dispel at least some of its power.


She hit the ground hard, rolling to avoid the next strike and forcing herself back to her feet even as she struck out against her attacker. But he wasn’t there, and Vesrai hissed through her teeth in consternation as her blow met only air.


She heard the hiss of displaced air but didn’t move to dodge, instead rocking back enough to catch her opponent’s leg and twist, throwing him off balance long enough for her to regain her feet. Her breath was loud in her ears even as she caught a blow, twisting her opponent’s arm, straining to hear and react to the next attack.


She heard it a moment before the blow struck, the ever so quiet hiss of sand shifting beneath booted feet, a warning she heeded too late. Vesrai scrambled backwards, releasing her opponent and trying to dodge the kick, but her reaction was too slow. She felt the impact as the soldier’s leg slammed into her own, sweeping her feet from under her. Vesrai managed to twist, avoiding landing flat on her back and absorbing some of the impact of her fall into her side. The side of her opponent’s hand came to rest against her throat, shoulder, and waist in three quick, sharp jabs that, while the strength was pulled from them, still got the point across. In anything other than a training bout, Vesrai’s head would unlikely still be attached to her shoulders.


“Better,” her opponent spoke even as Vesrai pushed herself up to a sitting position, peeling the blindfold off and letting it hang around her neck. She looked up at him with one eyebrow lifted pointedly, mismatched eyes catching the light even as humor twisted her lips.


“And by ‘better’ you mean I lasted more than a couple of minutes,” she finished, earning a huff that passed for a laugh from the man.


“Better than some Jedi,” the soldier clarified, gray eyes holding a spark of something. Not respect, but not disdain. That was progress.


Amusement danced quietly in her eyes even as she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees as she squinted up at the man.


“I take it you’ve been dealing with Devar,” she spoke, the lilt in her words undoubtedly lost on the man who was still enough of a stranger not to pick up on the changes in her mood or the humor in her voice, quiet as it was. “But he’s so talented.”


She allowed a healthy drawl to steal over the last words, the tone unmistakeable, a sharp contrast to her usual quiet shifts. But the sharp laugh she earned in response was enough to cause humor to flare in her eyes.


“Idiot. Take the lightsaber away and he’d be helpless. Waves it around like it’ll magically protect him. Doesn’t seem to understand what will happen if that shiny toy of his gets knocked out of his hand.”


Vesrai tilted a brow at him, a spark of humor in her mismatched gaze.


“Oh, I don’t know. He could always use the stick up his-”


The soldier coughed sharply as another Jedi arrived, cutting the words short. The twi’lek was almost certainly too far away to hear the comment, but Vesrai didn’t feel particularly like tempting her notoriously unreliable luck. Still, it didn’t stop the bark of laughter from the soldier, and Vesrai looked back to see a hint of approval in his gaze, paired with surprise. Vesrai’s unconventional nature seemed to catch the soldiers off guard, especially with those who had worked with the often more formal Tython order. Still, finding a place here, trying to earn something other than the suspicions and disdain of the troopers had not been an easy task. Moments like these, moments of surprise, seemed to be the most valuable. It was hardly earth-shattering progress. But it was progress.


“Enough,” the soldier grunted. The light of surprise and approval was gone as he looked down at Vesrai, smirking as he took in the fresh bruises on her face and the blood that smeared her upper lip and around her nose from the bloody nose she’d earned in their last bout. “Too many Jedi congregating here for a poor soldier like me.”


Vesrai huffed in amusement, earning a grin that was gone so quickly she almost believed she’d imagined it. The soldier waved her off before turning on his heel. Vesrai sprawled back on the sand, tilting her head back to take in the two Jedi, both settling into meditation. One, Yuusanalis, had been there for a decent amount of time, his long hair setting him apart, as did his apparent choice of martial art. From the glimpses Vesrai had seen, the man had not opted for Broken Gate, either, but some other style. Vesrai lacked the knowledge to properly identify his choice. Still, humor flashed in her eyes as she took in the state of the Echani. She wouldn't be the only one having to dodge Zyann's wrath.

The twi’lek was the recent arrival, and Vesrai took the time to notice the saberstaff that hung at the woman’s hip. Interesting. Another practitioner of a weapon other than the more typical single saber most Jedi opted for.



Utilising/Training Teras Kasi - Intermediate. 

Also working with mental resistance/speed for her to try to bring them up in a believable fashin.

Edited by Vesrai Falk

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