Handsome blindfolded hyper-religious whackjob
Kashyyyk. A tranquil jungle world. Home to the fierce and noble Wookie people. Many incredible manifestations of nature's wonder. And, relatively recently, at least in the opinion of history, the Order of Silver Jedi. And it was not hard to see why. For many generations the Wookiee people have always held the Jedi order in high regard. And the Jedi in turn held a deep respect for the inhabitants of this planet.
After all. They were a perfect example of an advanced society living in harmony with nature. There were no plants of industry. No mass pollution choking the skies. No excessive explotation of the nature beauty of the world. They were a wonderful example of what many other cultures could emulate. Even if many inhabitants of the Galaxy would dimiss their culture as crude and primitive. But despite the immense hardships the Wookiee people had suffered in the past. They continued to be shining examples of harmonious living.
But, sadly. There was one inhabitant of the planet who was currently having quite some difficulty maintaining the serenity required as a member of his order. The Padawan Aaran Tafo was once again dealing with the same issue that had plagued him ever since he came of age and puberty hit. Dressed in a simple white shirt and exercise pants, the Padawan's bare feet slapped against the dojo's floor as he dashed towards his target, lashing out with a body blow.
"Three broken ribs. Risk of punctured lung on baseline adult human." Came the flat, toneless voice of the training droid that currently had the Padawan's fist embedded in its' gut. Letting out a small puff of air from his lips in frustration. Aaran stalked back backwards. Pacing for a moment as he tried to compose himself after another failure.
This was always the damn issue with him. Lack of any semblance of fine control over his own strength unless he was directly allowing the Force to guide him. And while, in most situations that would be enough. He knew there would always be occasions when he could not rely on his more exotic abilities. Be it exhaustion, pain or something else. He would have to ensure that whenever it was. He could still fight. Hopefully without causing any more harm than he had to.
Deciding to take another crack at it. Aaran darted forward, lashing out with a kick aimed at the droid's knee. A simple move, aimed to weaken the joint and force an opponent to fall over. But once again, as before. He underestimated the strength behind his kick.
"Kneecap shattered. Possible damage of Popliteal artery." The droid announced, bending its' knee under the force of the blow. As it once again informed Aaran of his failure. Letting out a yell of frustration. Aaran slammed his fist once into the Droid's head. Hoping to shut the damn thing up. Before making his way back over to a nearby bench. Grabbing his bottle of water and quickly drinking deep. Trying, and failing to clear his mind of his frustration of his repeated failure.
After all. They were a perfect example of an advanced society living in harmony with nature. There were no plants of industry. No mass pollution choking the skies. No excessive explotation of the nature beauty of the world. They were a wonderful example of what many other cultures could emulate. Even if many inhabitants of the Galaxy would dimiss their culture as crude and primitive. But despite the immense hardships the Wookiee people had suffered in the past. They continued to be shining examples of harmonious living.
But, sadly. There was one inhabitant of the planet who was currently having quite some difficulty maintaining the serenity required as a member of his order. The Padawan Aaran Tafo was once again dealing with the same issue that had plagued him ever since he came of age and puberty hit. Dressed in a simple white shirt and exercise pants, the Padawan's bare feet slapped against the dojo's floor as he dashed towards his target, lashing out with a body blow.
"Three broken ribs. Risk of punctured lung on baseline adult human." Came the flat, toneless voice of the training droid that currently had the Padawan's fist embedded in its' gut. Letting out a small puff of air from his lips in frustration. Aaran stalked back backwards. Pacing for a moment as he tried to compose himself after another failure.
This was always the damn issue with him. Lack of any semblance of fine control over his own strength unless he was directly allowing the Force to guide him. And while, in most situations that would be enough. He knew there would always be occasions when he could not rely on his more exotic abilities. Be it exhaustion, pain or something else. He would have to ensure that whenever it was. He could still fight. Hopefully without causing any more harm than he had to.
Deciding to take another crack at it. Aaran darted forward, lashing out with a kick aimed at the droid's knee. A simple move, aimed to weaken the joint and force an opponent to fall over. But once again, as before. He underestimated the strength behind his kick.
"Kneecap shattered. Possible damage of Popliteal artery." The droid announced, bending its' knee under the force of the blow. As it once again informed Aaran of his failure. Letting out a yell of frustration. Aaran slammed his fist once into the Droid's head. Hoping to shut the damn thing up. Before making his way back over to a nearby bench. Grabbing his bottle of water and quickly drinking deep. Trying, and failing to clear his mind of his frustration of his repeated failure.
