An Elegant Weapon for a More Civilized Age

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

It seemed odd that there would be a Jedi Academy on Yavin IV.

The jungle moon had a historical connection to the Dark Side of the Force, one touched by the Massassi civilization and tainted by the work of Sith alchemy. Over a thousand generations ago, Yavin IV was the site where one of the greatest Jedi in history had fallen from the light. Only through the combined power of the entire Jedi Order had Yavin IV been purged of the taint of Sith alchemy. The stories and histories that the young Archaeologist had to tell of this world were not at all happy ones. Nor were they stories which the Jedi liked told.

In Sor-Jan's time, in the Old Republic, the temples and jungles of this moon had been left to crumble under the weight of their own legend and the winds of time. The Academy of Jedi Archaeologists might commission of survey here or there. But, by and large, the historical ties to the Sith and the Dark Side were enough that the Jedi stayed away.

Except, at some point, they hadn't stayed away. They'd come to Yavin IV and built a Jedi Academy out of what had been a Sith temple.

It was really quite extraordinary.

The lines and contours of the Massassi architecture, the reliefs carved into the stone, the echoes of the jungle outside. Everything Sor-Jan had been told of this moon was that only death resided here. In contrast, as he meditated, the boy was aware of the woolamanders in the tree. Or the tree bearing fruit.

If there was death on Yavin IV, then the life the moon boasted drowned out the sounds or signs of it. It was worlds apart from what he had expected it to be, which was a lesson unto itself.

Everything changes.

The small Anzat was meditating, but not as one might have thought. Just as Yavin IV, which was said to be dead, was instead a vibrant and alive moon so, too, was Sor-Jan meditating without stillness. Instead, he was meditation made manifest. Meditation in motion.

It was called Alchaka.

Like a dancer, the boy moved with a preternatural grace. The green blade of a lightsaber hummed as it moved in time with the motion and rhythm of his exercises.

The boy, the crystal, and the lightsaber.

Three separate entities. And yet the three were also one.

It would be hard to distill a form or style to the way in which the young Anzati moved. It was the nature of Alchaka to be personal to the practitioner and, as a student of Niman, the different forms of lightsaber combat blended naturally into how the lightsaber became an extension of his own being. The direct, simple lines of Shii-cho blended into the subtle the sweeps of Shien. The complex bladework of Soresu morphed into the acrobatic maneuvers of Ataru.

As the green blade dipped and weaved with the motion of the boy's hands, arms, body, and feet, the Corellian youngling patiently waited by staying in both constant motion and constant meditation at the same time.

He was waiting for someone, but even while the mysteries of the Force made known that he would meet someone here - that he had a purpose in teaching something this day - even he was not certain who, or what, or why.

Part of the mystery of the Force was that many things were still mysteries.

And the fifty year old Anzat was quite happy that it was still like that, even eight hundred years later.

[member="Triam Akovin"] | @Jedi Academy folks | @The Covenant folks​

 

[Cassus Akovin]

Part of the mystery of the force also, only existed if you gave a kark about it.

Triam Akovin was not one such individual, who cared very deeply about this sort of thing. The force was the force, it was as simple as that. A fact of life, some other obstacle she simply needed to tackle. She didn't hate the force and what it gave to people, but she wasn't exactly happy about it and who it gave its gifts too. Which was part of the reason she was in the Covenant at all.

Preliat told her to prove she wasn't just some selfish empty shell of a woman, who didn't care about anything other than money. She did care. She cared a lot. It was just... very difficult for her to actively express... and consistently stay true to herself.

In designing this new weapon she held in her hands, with its new Covenant Hilt covering the inner machinations of its entirely unique construction and purpose, she hoped it would become that constant reminder that she is intended to ward the evils of this world, and to prepare the weak for the inevitable war over the horizon.

Was that her purpose?

She felt like it should be, if it wasn't. This blade, like her arm, was to become a symbol, a representation of herself by which she could share to others if they ever desired to take on her course... but unlike her arm, which was relentless as a barrier... this blade was relentless as a weapon.

The only trouble being, she had no idea how to use it.

Perhaps that spoke volumes of her own character, who had every measure of someone who couldn't possibly relent to the enemy under any circumstance... but had no idea how to relent, and where, and when, and why, to who? Maybe, after this day, or after many days... she'd finally reach that point of introspection where it all became clear to her, as it often did.

"Yavin..." She spoke as she walked through the jungle, to the meeting place of one Covenant member she had not yet encountered. "Pretty sure this is Mandalorian space. I wonder what the odds are of meeting an old friend here..." She started to smile, but the memories being slightly bitter, it died almost as soon as it started.

At any rate, she saw what looked to be a boy, twirling that most elegant weapon. How many times had she seen those very familiar motions be completed by the enemy? She was accustomed to that hum now... but she would have to adjust to that hum being the sound of ally's, rather than enemies. Holding a blade of her own... she'd reckoned it'd have to be pretty fast.

"Excuse me?"

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

The sound of her voice.

The emerald blade came up, straight overhead, as the youngling stood in a yoga-like pose that might have sparked some parallels to some of the soft forms of Teras Kasi. His right arm straight, the blade extended up like a lightning rod. His left hand at the center of his chest, the palm open and flat. He stood on the tip of his left boot, the sole of his right propped against his knee. Vibrant blue eyes just blinked as he took note of the woman emerging from out of the treeline. Spiked blonde hair and blue eyes dotted the appearance of an athletic looking woman. She was human.

Or, human-ish.

Sor-Jan was human-ish. He looked human enough, until you realized he didn't breathe or have a heartbeat. At that point, he probably didn't seem very human at all. So, he knew that near-human appearances were among the most deceptive appearances of all. But, as human appearances went, this one was pretty darn convincing.

The child relaxed, both feet on the ground as he dipped the green blade low in a casual seeming gesture. Adopting the low sword guard of Niman, the boy called out to the woman. "Hi!"

Shutting down the paperweight, the young Anzat secured the pommel of his lightsaber to the belt across the waist of his tunic before he stepped forward to greet this newcomer to the Masassi Temple that had been repurposed into a temple of the Jedi. "I'm kinda hopin' you're sellin' Gerb Scout cookies," the youngling quipped, offering the stranger a cheeky smile. Like Kushiban or Tynnans, the Gerb were a race of sentient lagomorph.

They also made the most awesome chocolate thin mint cookies in the whole galaxy.

But, spiked hair and pink skin didn't go with white fur and bunny ears. Which is to say, she'd the strangest looking Gerb Scout that he'd ever seen if she were one. "But, you don't exactly look the part," the boy deadpanned, completing the joke before folding his hands in front of him and bowing politely toward the lady.

"Welcome to the Jedi Academy, Master..?" the boy supplied in welcome, his speech trailing off as he straightened back up and left room for the woman to introduce herself if she so pleased.

[member="Triam Akovin"]​

 

[Cassus Akovin]

"You sayin' I'm old, kid?" Triam smirked at what appeared to be a young boy thinking herself to be the senior in this pairing. It hadn't quite set into her yet, that she was closer to her thirties than she was her booming twenties. She wasn't some idealistic young person any more... she was an idealistic slightly more experienced young person now. It was slow coming, but hanging around a bunch of young people who were nothing more than a bunch of kids?

It made you feel older than you were, and Triam felt very old right now. Which was ridiculous really, but Triam seemed rather fond of ridiculousness in her life, whether intentional or not.

Sort of like this situation she found herself in.

"Master...?" She repeated the boy, not quite realizing he was asking for a name to complete that title, figuring he simply lost his train of thought mid-sentence, and she was helping him remember. After a sort of awkward pause, it started to set into her that the kid was expecting her to reply, thinking she was a master of something.

"Oh uh, actually, I don't do that. The force I mean. Though, I guess..." She looked around sort of embarrassed, as she scratched the back of her head with her free hand. "I sort of..." She looked down to her newly minted lightfoil, of her own make and design... painstaking, tediously long and thought out design.

"... don't know how to use this thing?" After a heavy sigh, she resumed looking at the kid, not really believing she had to say something like that. Triam Akovin, THE Triam Akovin, didn't know how to use her own weapon? It was absolutely ridiculous. On top of that, she had to admit it to a child no less.

"I was referred here by some other Covenant members, I was hoping I was going to find someone to teach me. Is your - tutor - here by any chance?" Her eyes looked over him, being expecting of someone taller, a lot older, and wiser seeming than this deceptively childlike boy. She was also hesitant to use the word master, given that she had never been one to enjoy such a presumption title in an sort of hierarchy. Tutor was better, it was simply someone knowledgeable lending information, where as a Master sounded domineering... oppressive.

Carrying around something called the Relentless Blade gave the appropriate impression that it's wielder probably had a thing against authority and being pushed around.

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

The youngling-knight just blinked as the attempt at eliciting a name seemed to fall flat.

As the woman's quizzical response to the title turned into a hesitant soliloquy on being non-Force Sensitive, the athletic warrior explained her journey to Yavin in the cylindrical object which she looked down upon with some resignation. As though somewhat defeated by the article. Tilting his head to one side, the tow-headed boy turned his attention more to the object of the woman's frustration. Was that a lightsaber? It was small, if it was.

No, wait. Was that..?

"Oh, a lightfoil," the boy blurted out suddenly, no longer even aware if the woman were still talking or not. Already, his methodical mind was dialing back through myriad peer-review journals and hours of holocrons that he'd meditated upon in his pursuit of history. And interesting history at that! Once the en vogue weapon of choice among nobles, Sor-Jan hadn't heard or seen a lightfoil outside of a museum. To his knowledge, no one had for the better part of about four thousand years. And, still, here was a woman in 844 ABY partying like it was 4200 BBY. "Astral!"

Practically bouncing up and down with a sudden surge of energy, the small archaeologist beamed as he looked back up to the woman, hand outstretched, as he politely asked, "May I?"

Without really waiting for a response, the boy opened his mouth to let loose the deluge of HISTORY which had been pounding at the gates to get out ever seen he'd realized what it was that she was carrying. It was a symbol that harkened back to the early days of lightsaber use by the Jedi, and a return to their use by the ordinary citizenry of the galaxy -- who were the ones who taught their use to the Sith, from whom the idea was stolen by the Jedi.

Just don't tell that to a Jedi Master. They didn't like anything that suggested that the Sith did it first and the Jedi were copying them.

"Those date back to around forty-three hundred years ago, around the Tapani Sector," the youngling chirped excitedly, talking about chit no one cared about since at least 3,000 BBY with the same fervor with which guys at the sports bar debated grav-ball teams. "They were popular with a guild of assassins known as the Mecrosa Order, but were commonly used by people without any connection to the Force since before the Cleansing of the Nine Houses."

Did she know what the Cleansing of the Nine Houses was?

Of course, she did. Didn't she? Didn't schools teach this kind of stuff?

Probably not, come to think of it.

But that wasn't important. What was important? Lightfoils!

"They became sooooo common that youth gangs would bring these to street fights and duels," the child remarked. It was harkening back to the age of knife fights in the streets and alleys. Only, glowing knives this time. "Not exactly practical, but very efficient when wielded correctly."

"As for not using the Force, we copied the fencing and sword techniques of non-Force Sensitives... so, using the Force isn't necessary at all. Skill and experience is more important," the young Jedi opined candidly. Probably not an opinion that was likely to get shared by a lot of knights. Sor-Jan had the benefit of taking his lightsaber into combat, which was the best teacher for just how many limitations on the Force and the Jedi that there were in real application. "Take Niman, the Sixth Form of lightsaber combat developed by the Jedi. It actually has its roots in Jar'kai, which today people think is just any two-saber style, but it actually refers to a specific martial art developed by the Yovshin Swordsmen of the Atrisian Em..."

The boy paused. "...uh," he murmured, trailing off as now he tried to recall just what her actual question had been.

She had asked a question, hadn't she?

To be honest, he wasn't sure anymore. But, he was probably five tangents removed from whatever the original topic had been by this point. On that note, the boy took a breath and said, "Fair disclaimer, I kinda like history, so if I don't stop now I'm liable to bore you to death with this fount of useless knowledge."

So, other than the fact that it was historical fact that non-Forcies were awesome and that the Jedi had a lot to learn from their example, why had she said she was here again?

"Did you say the Covenant sent you?" the boy inquired, as he struggled to recall if he'd heard that correctly. The drop of the name brought to mind a particular individual that he'd met under more unusual circumstances. That is, getting run over by a landspeeder and having a slug-thrower pointed at him. "So you must know [member="Micah Talith"]!" Sor-Jan ventured aloud, recalling to mind the auburn hair and orange eyes of a lad who'd been but a boy then. "I met him on Ithor when he was about my age..."

The youngling paused, struggling with that comment as he often did. Holy kark, people grew up fast around him. "Well... my size anyway," the Anzat amended, deciding to let the point go as he looked at the woman to ask, "How is he?"

It hadn't been all that long since he'd last seen Micah, had it?

A telekinetic training on Ossus? Some years back now?

"He's... what? Thirteen? Fourteen now?"

[member="Triam Akovin"]​

 

[Cassus Akovin]

It was a little jarring at first to see the child so rudely disregard her words and take more interest in the item in her hands than her actual needs. Thought, at least he was polite enough to ask for her weapon than to simply take it, so it was pretty much forgiven. Handing over the complicated and delicate weapon to the childlike person.

Then he started to spew out a lot of words, and had they been spewed out to anyone other than perhaps Triam, they would have been utterly lost... Triam was merely irritated slightly by it.

That particular lightfoil didn't date back more than a few weeks ago in a laboratory on Relovain under her careful and tedious care. Though she did take a glance at antique schematics and such she bought over the holonet, and borrowed concepts from actual lightsaber technology she had on hand due to her friend Patricia, so although it was primarily a lightfoil in every sense of the word... it was entirely unique. She was at least moderately aware of the stories about the nobles in the Tapani Sector in regards to the lightfoils, and their ability to be used without force sensitivity, which is where she figured she'd find the best means to construct the device she imagined in her head.

The rest of what he said to her though, was mostly dribble to her ears. Take Niman for instance, or Jar'kai... what in the heck even were those?

Shaking her head as she tried to squeeze a word in as he spoke, though finding herself unable to, the boy finally caught up with reality and mentioned Micah.

"Uh... right. Micah? Good kid. He's snarky, I'll give 'em that... never really thought on how old he was, though. My apologies, I forgot to mention my name." She outstretched a hand a put up a smile, though her eyes pretty much betrayed her current mood of being all very confused by what was happening and being none too happy about it. "Triam Akovin, eccentric Treasure Huntress and galactic Sith-stomper."

Eying her weapon, she asked with a tinge of worry in her voice. "You gunna show me how to use that thing, or what's the deal? You're sure there are no other tutors for this sort of thing?"

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Balancing the slim handle in his hand, the youngling rotated his wrist back and forth as he took a moment to get a feel for how the weight would sit in his palm.

Igniting the blade, the boy stared at the silvery thread of pulsating energy which protruded from out of the pommel cap. "Huh," the child mused aloud. The sheath of light was similar, but resonated differently than a lightsaber did. "Well that's different," the boy remarked, rotating his wrist again, stretching out with a simple extension of the blade, which dipped and weaved as he acclimated to the different feel of this blade.

"Very well balanced," the young Jedi remarked, shutting the lightfoil down. Tossing the handle up into the air, the youngling flipped the weapon end-over-end, so that when he had caught it and offered it back to the woman that the butt of the handle was toward her and the point of the weapon was toward him.

"You have an exquisite weapon, Master Akovin," the boy stated, smiling up at the woman. "My name is Sor-Jan Xantha. Jedi Knight and Professor of Antiquities here at the Jedi Academy." Not exactly as colorful a title as sith-stomper, and there might have been a time when he'd sought such a title. In his own time, the boy had been known as General Sor-Jan Xantha. The Hero of the Line during the Battle of Yinchorr Prime. The strategist who'd turned back the Separatists at Duro, Drall, and Corellia. Even now, in the Frontier Corps, he had the honor of holding the rank of Commander among the Coalition.

None of that was important to how he saw himself however. He was a Corellian Jedi. A student of history.

"As for tutors, we have a variety," the boy remarked, folding his arms in front of him so that they were tucked into the sleeves of his green robes. "And I'm happy to assist you in locating one who may be better suited to your needs."

The question was, who would that be? A Jedi Guardian? A weaponmaster, initiated into the more aggressive forms of combat - Form II and Form V perhaps? "For a lightfoil, you should seek either a master of Makashi or one who has studied the Jar'kai style of fencing," the boy offered sagely.

"I am not aware of anyone here who can teach you Makashi, but I am well versed in the historical form of Jar'kai as well as its modern interpretation," the youngling mused aloud, adding, "I'd be happy to teach this to a friend of Micah's."

[member="Triam Akovin"]​

 

[Cassus Akovin]

"Well, you do seem like a nice kid. You probably know your stuff too, so I guess you're as good a tutor as I'm willing to look for at the moment, huh." She shrugged with an uncommitted laugh as she accepted her weapon. Flattery got to her she guessed, it helped to ease her embarrassment slightly to see the surprise in his eyes over the exact nature of her weapon. After a moments pause, adjusting to the situation, she noticed she didn't have much else to say or talk about. Nothing even to be really introspective about like usual, so decided that perhaps the wait was unnecessarily long at this point, so she kept it short.

"Where do I begin?" She spread her legs apart to assume some sort of aggressive stance, and held her new weapon to her side, awaiting instruction.

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

The young Anzat just shook his head as the woman assumed a tense, aggressive posture.

There were forms of fencing that did rely on the kind of martial power that would bring. Djem So being the best example he could think of. But, definitely not the style of swordplay required here. "Relax," the boy advised, taking a step forward. Reaching out his hands, he gently guided her into a loose stance. Right foot in front of the left, which was turned out at a slight angle. Arms down in front, with the pommel cap of the lightfoil pointed down and left.

"You constrict the movement of your muscles when you tighten up like that," the boy commented, stepping back to looked over her form. "The trick to fencing is to be limber. Loose."

With a nod, he seemed satisfied as to her posture and then moved to how she held the handle. "Take the handle and hold it so that it sits back in the palm of your hand," the boy commented, carefully sliding and adjusting her hands on the handle.

Taking two steps back this time, the youngling tossed his head back in order to flip an errant strand of hair from his eyes. "Now, activate it," he advised, drawing his own lightsaber from off his belt. The green blade hummed into being as the child adopted an identical stance to her own.

In Niman, it was known as the low sword guard. "Follow my movements," the boy instructed, bringing the blade up and parallel to the ground, then rotated his arms to swing the blade up and diagonal. A cross-section strike to an opponent's collarbone.

Then he stepped back, the blade retracing its path through the air as he dropped his arms and fell back into the low sword guard stance.

[member="Triam Akovin"]​

 

[Cassus Akovin]

Relax?

Triam made a funny face when the kid told her to relax. Who relaxed while in the heat of combat? It was all nerves and fear, a constant stressful aggression to fight and be the last one standing, or suffering death. Keeping a cool head was her specialty whilst in combat, but given enough time 9/10 it was just primal instincts.

What did relaxation have to do with combat?

Nonetheless, she attempted to heed his instruction. While her shoulders still remained tense to no fault of her own, she attempted to take in breaths to lessen the impact of her battle hardened instincts, and pushed her shoulders back with a straightened back. The boy came over and assisted her with her form, and put her into a familiar stance, save for the weapon in her hand. Luckily he helped her with her grip, given her inexperience with any melee weapon let alone a lightfoil. Then he told her to activate it.

Great.

Slightly embarrassed, she thumbed the activate switch without her specialized "Tràkata Switch"... meaning she stood there awkwardly as the mechanism slowly realized it was on. A full second later a yellow-silver thread of energy escaped from the emitter and illuminated her face and armor. She admitted that for all the faults it demonstrated in her... it really was quite beautiful. Far more elegant than what she was typical to use.

Elegance. It was a very strange concept for her, given her aggressive nature and her furious struggle in combat. It was alien to her. Inelegance was second nature to her... it would take a long time for her to unlearn those tendencies and adopt the proper mentality to utilize her newest and strangest weapon. Some say that you become what you hunt, and given her latest inspiration, it was likely not far from the truth.

With careful and tense precision, she mimicked his movements as best as she understood, crude in her understanding of what these movements implied.

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

 

[Pally]

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