Gherron Dragovalor
Space dad
Rosedge Manor, Chandrila, 0500 hours.
Gherron swung Alnox downward to block an imaginary strike, then raised the blade back up as quickly as the previous movement had been. His eyes were closed, but he didn't need to see where he was going. In his head, he saw several enemies around him, all firing their blasters in his direction as he just stayed put and deflected every one with precise movements. When he had first joined the order, he had fixated on the art of Form III, better known as Soresu, way of the mynock. He had trained almost solely on the form from the beginning, saying that he wanted nothing more than to be a guardian for others. He wanted to protect people. Though he had tried other forms since then, even at some point relying on Vapaad for a while, he now found himself falling back on what he knew best. He knew he was nowhere near the best though, there was always someone out there who had a deeper understanding, and more practice. Oh, what he wouldn't give to find a holo or something of the fabled Obi-wan Kenobi. He was well-renowned for being the master of Soresu, when he was alive. If there was anyone he could learn some tips and tricks from, it was him. However, he pushed those thoughts from his head as he battled opponents in his head, becoming an immovable force of his own. Sweat drenched his body, though he didn't mind too much, since he was currently only dressed in a light pair of shorts, leaving his upper body open to the elements. In the now peaceful life he led, this is what he often found himself doing. If he wasn't in the garden sparring, he was in the library meditating. Sure, he set time aside for his wife and son, but it was hard adapting after spending so long by himself on the forest planet Refuge. The truth was, these sparring sessions kept him sane. Though he wanted this quiet life for himself, he still constantly had this itch to go out and do something. It seemed that the more he fought it, the stronger it came back. However bad that itch got though, he refused to leave his family again. He couldn't bring himself to hurt them like he did before. After a good hour had passed, Gherron lowered his sword as he opened his eyes, his breathing only somewhat labored. Once he was back inside, Gherron used a small towelette to dry off some of the sweat from his head and upper body, sitting in a nearby chair to relax. As he did so however, he noticed he still felt the pull from the connection he had with his sword. Reaching over to where he had laid it, he picked it up and held it in both hands, staring intently. He remembered helping a woman create the blade, using the force as well as his own blood to bind it to him. It was a blade of light, both an interesting and new concept to him. Before hearing of the woman's works, he had only before heard of swords imbued with for darkness of the force, aptly named 'Sith swords'. Though he had only used Alnox in battle a couple of times, he remembered the feeling he got whenever he used it. It was a literal extension of himself, and it helped strengthen his connection to the light side of the force, or at least it seemed to sometimes. The weapon was a work of art, in so many ways. As he rolled it over in his hands, mesmerized, he stared at the jewel fixed in the pommel, the glare ice crystal. As he did so, his mind wandered to the conversation he had with the woman that day. He was curious about learning how to imbue items like this with the light side of the force. Was it possible he could learn to do this on his own? It was definitely a potential project he was interested in. Standing up, he went to make his way to the library when a small voice called to him. "Daddy!" Smiling to himself, he set the sword in its rack nearby and went to answer his son's call. "Coming, Articus." Maybe another time.