Pugno Ergo Sum
TYTHON
Despite being a bona fide undercity kid, Tython had begun to feel more like home than Coruscant ever did. Even when comparing the temples, there was something Tython held that his homeworld lacked. It was as if the planet itself was guiding him—helping him discover, learn, and grow in his understanding of the Force.
He was grateful. The path he'd chosen was far from traditional—an approach few would consider in seeking to master the Force.
Standing at the center of a circular stone platform, connected by a stony path leading from a nearby beach, Drystan stood still, arms readied at his sides, elbows bent, eyes shut tight. The waters surrounding him were calm, save for the gentle shifts and murmurs of tranquil waves.
He remained that way for a long moment, drinking in his surroundings, letting the planet's energy mingle with his own. The faint hum of stone and earth beneath his feet stirred—quiet, grounding, alive.
Now.
His eyes flung open as he began his kata: a silent dance of strikes, sweeps, and motion that flowed from his core. The movements started simple—rudimentary strikes meant to lay the foundation of his form. But with each transition, the rhythm deepened.
The waters around him responded. First in subtle ripples, then in graceful sways, echoing the arcs of his arms and legs. As his kata grew more intense—his movements faster, sharper, more deliberate—the sea grew lively with him. Waves leapt and spun, caught in the choreography as if compelled to watch, to join.
The dance continued.
With each pass, the water rose higher, lapping at the edges of the platform. Then at his bare feet. Then swirling along the stone beneath him—fluid steps in harmony with his own. A duet between body and nature, each matching the other in an ever-building crescendo.
This was no mere display or recital. It was a communion of discovery.
A dance that served as a microcosm of the bond between the Jedi and the living, breathing realm of this world.
