Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Becoming Accustomed [Tython Jedi Academy]

Note: Occurs three days prior to thishttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/23255-fresh-off-the-shuttle-at-ossus-open-to-any-on-ossus/ thread, in which Meeristali joins the academy at Ossus, along with others.


Some Random Training Room
Jedi Academy
Tython


He’d found one. A punching bag. Any established organization that took its members’ fitness into consideration would do right to have the the basics about, and after a certain amount of poking around in the evening after that day’s traininghttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/22017-absorbing-information-tutaminis/ he hadn’t found what he was seeking. Not until he asked, and was given directions. The punching bag had been in some obscure-yet-large storage locker, along with the rest of the more mundane fitness equipment. Despite that it was a fact that most Jedi seemed to get their exercise from combat training, running… there was a certain something about laying his fists into an inanimate object purposed to that end.

That, and… well, the military put one into certain habits. Punching something to work up a sweat was well within his habitual tendencies. So, after stringing the thing up as sturdily and solidly as possible and wrapping his hands, he went about working the bag, his thoughts returning to the training session earlier for a good several minutes, before his mind started to wander to the days now behind him where he would have had some company while engaging in this exercise.

It was strange, this quiet. Life outside of his now-former squad had some similarities, but he had to stretch to find them. If there was a camaraderie, a brotherhood of sorts amongst these wielders of the Force, he had yet to find it, see it, or experience it. Granted, it had only been a few days, but he felt like… a ‘fish out of water’, so to speak.


@[member="Moroi Wareyasui"] @[member="Asaak Tey"]
 

Moroi Wareyasui

Cocky Little Poohead
A healthy body was essential for a healthy mind...so naturally Moroi was working on neither. The boy's start in the Jedi Order had been a very mixed bag of success and failure. In some areas, Moroi was extremely talented. He grasped the basics of Jedi combat incredibly quickly, held a lightsaber like he had been doing so for years, and moved with a speed and grace just short of a full fledged Jedi Knight. Where Moroi was not extremely talented...or talented at all, was in his capacity to sense and feel the force. He could feel it, ever so slightly, he knew it was there, and at times he could utilize it to augment himself, but any form of externalization or sensory capacity usually resulted in Moroi falling flat. Regardless of how much effort he put in to the act, he never seemed to get any results. There always seemed to be some trick, some component to the equation that he didn't understand. Maybe it was just his fault for looking at everything like an equation. The conundrum of his own weakness and failure was what led him to sitting in, what was originally an empty, training room, silently lamenting his predicament.

The room did not remain empty for very long however as Moroi, still nestled in the corner, watched as the man, an alien species Moroi had never seen before though was not necessarily put off by, fetched a punching bag and strung it up. A soft smile came to Moroi's face, work with a heavy bag was something he was very familiar with during his time before the Jedi order, a vast majority of his martial arts training was done with a heavy bag or a wooden man. As the rhythmic thumping of his punches filled the room, Moroi's eyes silently followed while his mind trailed back to his earliest lessons in hand to hand combat. He was taught not to only see his opponent, but to feel their muscles as they moved, to anticipate that movement. Tactile information was processed a few tenths of a second quicker than visual stimulation and those tenths of a second were crucial in combat. He had grasped that lesson quickly enough and it wasn't that much different than what he was taught to do with The Force, so why was he struggling so mightily? Perhaps that was his problem, he was trying to do things his Master's way. He had tried to jump straight in to the deep end instead of wading in to the pool. Moroi softly closed his eyes and tried to reach out through The Force, to feel his opponent's movements like he would if he were touching him. The first few strikes he felt nothing, but the fourth one he could feel just as he would if he were touching him.

Moroi sprang to his feet suddenly, if the man had noticed he quite possibly would have been alarmed given how perfectly still the boy had been previously. If he had found the secret, they way to make it work for him, he had to push it, to see how far he could take it. In a flash, Moroi had darted across the room and positioned himself a few feet behind the heavy bag, the bag itself between him and the man. Moroi tilted his head to the side and flashed a rather wide grin toward the man, hoping against hope that he wouldn't just leave the room and creepy kid behind.

"Sorry sir, just ignore me and keep doing what you were doing if you don't mind, I just want to try something."

@[member="Meeristali Peradun"] @[member="Asaak Tey"]
 
Asaak had no particular reason to be in the training room, or even heading in that direction. Her Master was off on a mission, one dangerous enough that she didn't think it best for Asaak to come along so early in her training. But the young Togruta wasn't about to be caught lazing about and instead set out to exploring the Academy she found herself in. She was restless by nature, a product of her homeworld and the years she spent fending for herself on the streets of Coruscant. The underworld of that city had also taught her how to defend herself, and it was like a moth to a flame that her feet took her to that end of the complex. It also seemed she wasn't alone.

After pressing the button to slide the entrance to the training room open, she spied a man who she thought might be a bit older than her, though it could have been an illusion wrought simply by how much taller and muscular he was than the Togruta girl. She was a horrible judge of age to begin with but his appearance was certainly not helping her silent guessing game. He was accompanied by another man standing on the opposite end of the punching bag - a rather funny place to be standing if you asked Asaak, but she also picked up on a sense of excitement surrounding him. She didn't want to break whatever moment was clearly happening but at the same time she was beginning to crave some social interaction. She had only been on Tython a few days and supposed it was par for the course to feel a bit lonely and out of place. Jedi had friends after all but she was beginning to hope that wasn't just something she'd made up. After a moment's pause she came further in to the room. This was as good a place as any to meet some new people - she was familiar with combat and perhaps they could all find something in common.

She had caught the tail end of the last thing said: "if you don't mind, I just want to try something".

Pacing the length of the room, she came to stand a few feet off from both of them, giving herself a view of both of their positions in case whatever was about to happen made for a good show. "And if you don't mind, I'm going to watch." What she was watching, who knew - but already she felt boredom falling to the wayside.

@[member="Moroi Wareyasui"] @[member="Meeristali Peradun"]
 
He had noticed the new entry into the room, heard him and smelled him coming before he saw @[member="Moroi Wareyasui"] with his vibrant orange eyes. He hadn't seen this one in today's training - perhaps the subject matter had already been covered with him, or was not yet in his interests. Meeristali was barely trained in anything himself, and going for the training in Tutaminis had been bold, but the Felacatian had always strived for more than the minimum. His prior life had demanded of him, exacted from him the best of him, and he gave it, gave his all daily, and would continue to do so in this new life. He continued to work the bag, his tail swaying in counterpoint to the rhythm of the exercise, but his eyes stayed on the younger, dark-haired man.

He looked away every so many moments, of course, to keep the bag within his reach, and on one such occasion the boy had vanished from where he was standing by the time Meeristali had looked up again. His eyes narrowed, and hearing the slight rustle of movement from the tilting of the boy's head, Stali snapped his eyes to where the other individual stood, just as Moroi spoke, and after the last jab, he let the bag fall against his open palms to rest between them. He wasn't certain what it was that this kid would try, but why not humour him.

"By all means." He replied, and was about to go back to the bag when yet another individual, @[member="Asaak Tey"], wandered in. It seemed he was going to have company. The prospect sent a small shimmer of mild cheer through him, and he smiled when she announced she was going to watch.

"Alright, then." And he set the bag back, and began putting his fists into it, once again... but minding what the other two might do. Military recruits had been their own breed, but unknown youths - he was still rather young himself, at twenty-five - posed their own 'unique' possibilities. "I don't mind an audience. Name's Meeristali Peradun, but most take to calling me Stali."

He looked to either side of the bag.

"How about you guys? Names?"
 

Moroi Wareyasui

Cocky Little Poohead
Moroi did not know how to react when @[member="Asaak Tey"] had come in to the room. It was a strange reaction that occurred in him, it seemed to hit him at once. He felt visions, sights from the future, strange images swirling in his mind, almost as if so much of the future between the two of them had already played out. Perhaps a more talented Master would have been able to make sense of the visions, would have been able to understand what The Force was assaulting his mind with. Moroi was not that talented. Instead he saw flashes of emotion, feelings, weird images. He could barely define those emotions. Some were positive, he felt a sense of pride, affection, camaraderie, and then at times there was a terrible pain, fear. He didn't understand it in the slightest and the visions left him as quickly as they came and instead left the boy simply looking strange and dumbfounded and probably uncomfortably staring at the Togruta. She was rather attractive, hopefully she just mistook Moroi's attention as typical from a boy and left it at that. Moroi didn't want to have to explain that his mind had just been bombarded by the Force when she walked in to the room.

It was after the first strike from Mister Stali connected with the bag and caused the heavy object to smack Moroi in the face did he break out of his stupor and focus on...heavy things flying at his face. Backing up a bit, Moroi watched as his second hit connected with the bag before closing his eyes. It was the same thing, he just needed to feel it like he would feel someone's muscles. Same concept just different outlet. The force wasn't so hard right...right? In reality, only a few seconds had truly elapsed, but in Moroi's mind it felt like ages of deafening silence, complete emptiness for so long. Until, in a flash, he felt it, he felt the man's movements through the Force. Moroi's knees bent and his fist launched forward toward the bag. Said fist struck the bag in the completely opposite spot where @[member="Meeristali Peradun"] had, mirroring his strike and aiming to completely diffuse the energy of his strike through the bag. He wasn't perfect, the back still shifted slightly toward him and he hadn't anticipated it perfectly, but his use of precognition was already substantially greater than it was ten seconds ago and this prompted a very...well...excitable response from Moroi.

"Yes! Moroi! Keep going keep going!"
 
Whether it was because she was always attuned to the less concrete aspects of the Force or simply because she hadn't gotten quite the look at @[member="Moroi Wareyasui"] that he'd gotten of her, the flooding emotion and visions did not come to her all at once. Instead it was as if a glimpse at him opened a gate, that meeting his eyes allowed a ocean of sound and sensation to at first slowly trickle and then flood her, and the second she looked away her mind quieted. She turned her eyes to him again, just to test if the same blast of sensation would hit her, but it didn't. That was disappointing, but at the same time she still felt like she already knew him for some reason. When she realized that he was staring right back and seemingly just as confused as her she got nervous. Was there something on her face? Was he offended by something? And why the hell did it matter so much to her?

Shaking her head she looked back to the Felacatian, about to answer his question when the heavy punching bag smacked Moroi right in the face. She was caught between concern and amusement, but quickly went with amusement as after a moment's pause he seemed to get very excited about something and then exploded with enthusiasm. His face couldn't be too badly damaged - which would, Asaak thought, truly be a shame - if he was so excited, so she went back to answering Meeristali's question. "I'm Asaak Tey. I just came to Tython about two weeks ago." She moved around the punching bag, finding a bench pushed up against the wall and perching herself on it, crossing her legs beneath her.

She tilted her head, playing with the echolocation in her montrals and trying to follow the swift movement of the punches. She was not a skilled fighter though she could at least trade damage, but she had natural advantages such as the montrals she hoped to train to use formidably. These two however, seemed to wear with ease what she struggled to master. She had grace and athleticism from her Togruta heritage, but she imagined she looked something like a spider monkey when she fought. There was no strategy, no direction of energy like both men in front of her seemed to have more than a solid hand at. Her wild punches would work sometimes, but not when it came to the kind of enemies she would be expected to face one day as a Jedi. She looked at the wraps wound on @[member="Meeristali Peradun"]'s hands, watching him work the bag. "You look like you've done this more than a couple times."
 
Having the force of his punches almost entirely diffused by [member="Moroi Wareyasui"]'s counter was not desirable, but it allowed him to gain further purchase on the entirety of what the boy was, and it was decent to humour people every now and again. Moroi seemed to have some physical prowess, though his musculature appeared less defined than his own, which Meeristali put entirely up to background and training. He had at least five years on the boy, if not more, and over ten years of military life, training, engagements, and conflicts under his belt. With it all, he still managed daily dedication to the maintenance of his body. A mildly entertained, shallow grin took his lips and parted them, and he continued to put his fists into the bag, regardless of what Moroi might do, and thought up his response to [member="Asaak Tey"]'s commentary.

"Quite regularly, in fact," he started, sparing a glance in her direction for a few seconds, before looking back to the bag and Moroi. "Over ten years in the Felacatian military."

Low-volume grunts slowly began to accompany his jabs, as he had been at this for a little while now, had been at it for a little over ten minutes before either of them had arrived. His tail bobbed in counter to his movements, accentuating his balance.

"This is merely routine," he admitted, as he threw the last few punches, and stopped, putting his hands on either side of the bag to still it. There was a modest glean of sweat on his brow, and his breathing was ever-so-slightly faster than at rest. He stepped away from the bag, and headed over to the bench, where next to Asaak he had left a towel, to pick it up and wipe at his forehead and the back of his neck before setting it to hang from around his neck. Gesturing back towards the bag, he picked up a water bottle from the bench where he'd left it, before speaking again. "You both are welcome to try."

Popping the pop-top cap, he took a long drink.
 

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