Private Iron Sharpens Iron

[Revna Marr]

Location: Kor'ethyr Academy Grounds; Korriban​

Dark scores scarred the ground around the two figures - one a woman, smaller and seemingly lighter in frame; and the other a taller and broader young man, who almost seemed to dwarf her. Two crimson blades clashed against one another as both sought to reach the other in a delicate dance of death - one where the woman clearly seemed to have the upper hand, or at least the one with the most experience. At first glance, it would appear that the two were earnestly trying to kill one another - but looks were deceiving.

Revna had no intention of killing her apprentices, not unless they spectacularly failed her.

This was but a simple practice session, a spar between Master and apprentice, to sharpen and fine tune the young man - as well sharpen her own skills, and learn how he fought.

Especially with a weapon or a blade that was not his own.

They had been going at their sparring session for almost an hour, and not once had Revna relented in her assault. She pressed upon Varin in the same manner that Darth Carnifex had pressured her in their many duels, integrating both offensive and defensive techniques and interchanging them on a whim to keep the young Sith on his toes and always adapting to the fight - much in the same way she had been forced to do, when she fought for her life against the Dark Lords. What good were the lessons, if she didn’t pass them along to her own students?

The spar ended when Revna had had enough, and with a decisive twist of her wrist, disarmed Varin before bringing the humming red blade up towards his throat, just enough for him to feel the lethal heat of it, before she stepped back and disengaged the blade and bringing their practice session to an end.

“Very good, Varin. You’re a quick learner, and you have a decent foundation to your swordsmanship.” Revna said as she hooked her saber back on the belt around her waist, and pushed a stray lock of silvery black hair back from her face. Varin might notice that, even in the chilled air of Korriban, that there was a beading of sweat upon her brow. She had made him work, but in turn he had worked her as well.

“I have a task for you.” she stated after a few minutes, to allow them both to calm their racing hearts and collect their breaths. “Or, more accurately, a challenge. I want you to engage Lysander in a fight, a swordfight. I want you to disarm him and confiscate his lightsaber. Bring it to me, as proof of your victory over your co-apprentice.”

She issued the order, the challenge, so casually and as if it would be an easy task for Varin - and yet both would know it was anything but. Lysander was an excellent duelist, sharp and quick and lethal. Varin had his own strengths and weaknesses when it came to swordfighting, just as Lysander had his own. And she knew that by pitting them against one another, they would sharpen each other.

Besides, she felt it would do them good to have a friendly rivalry and competition going on between them.

“You are not to give him any warning beforehand. Your enemies will not warn you before they attack you, so neither should you. Choose wisely the time when you engage him - as it may decide whether you win or lose your fight.”

Of course…what she didn’t tell Varin, was that she had given Lysander the same challenge just hours earlier when she had last met with the blonde Acolyte: to fight Varin, and disarm him, and bring Revna the proof of his victory over his fellow apprentice. By telling them both to choose the right time in which to engage, was to make them study each other and look for the opportune moment that might grant them victory.

She trusted them both not to kill one another - but she also didn’t say as much to either of them. Both were very valuable as prospect Sith, and had great potential. But she was training them to be Sith - and only the strongest of their Order would rise above the masses. If one fell to death, then it was a natural culling of the weak.

Revna would be disappointed, for sure. But she understood the way of the Sith, and it was her job as their Master to ensure that they came to understand it as well.

Of course, injuries were to be expected, but Revna wasn't too concerned about this, for she knew that Madrona A’Mia would be able to help repair any wounds delivered or sustained.

“Unless you have questions, Varin, then you are dismissed and may go about the rest of your day as you please.”

Varin Mortifer // Lysander von Ascania ​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Revna Marr Lysander von Ascania

The weapon left his hand and clattered to the floor as he felt the intense heat of the crimson blade near his flesh. In the heat of the moment all he could do was glare into her eyes, showing no fear but understanding he still had much to learn.

Doubt began to spew into his mind until Revna spoke about his swordsmanship. The sting of losing his weapon was still prevalent, but to hear that he is quick to improvement did not fall on deaf ears.

"I will do better for our next session, master."

He spoke directly and quietly after she spoke. Though he did take note that even though he still needed to work on his combat skills, ge still exerted his master to a degree. As she holstered her saber a phrase caught his undivided attention.

“I have a task for you.”

Though she reworded it to a challenge Varin was immediately hooked. Anything for growth is what he craved.

Issuing him a challenge to duel his co-apprentice and retrieve his lightsaber only to return it to his master. This challenge brought excitement to him. He could challenge himself and his apprentice thus bringing both of them growth. That does not mean he would go easy at all on Lysander, and he certainly wouldn't expect the same response from him either.

With a quick lift of his hand the disengaged hilt flew back into his hand. He then placed it back to its proper housing where he grabbed it before.

He remained quiet as Revna spoke, taking in her words to heart and to memory, and smirked.

"As you wish."

He stood for just a moment, in hesitance of kneeling, a habbit from his father's previous teachings. Instead he simply lowered his head keeping an eye on his master before he quietly left the training area heading to his dorm.

The sun was setting, giving the red hue in the sky. It took some time but Varin had finally gotten used to it. It wasn't long before he finally arrived back at his dorm opening the door.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Revna Marr | Varin Mortifer | Madrona A’Mia

​

An object hovered above the digital scale before he carefully set it down.

The blue-hued numbers flickered for a moment.

6 ounces.

Lysander smirked slightly, eyeing the prize.

A Bantha steak. For someone who was constantly engaged in training these days, it was more precious than any Sith artifact.

In this corner of the room, a makeshift kitchen had been set up, complete with a low-heat plasma grill that hummed with a similar tune to his lightsaber. Sliding the thick slab of meat steak onto the device, the grill began its duty by searing the surface.

Several minutes passed, and with care he transferred it to the small cutting board crafted from dark wood. The aroma teased the teen’s senses, begging to be noticed, but his attention remained elsewhere.

Adorning his ears was a bulky pair of noise-cancelling headphones, the kind that meant to silence the world around him. With curved blade suitable for a chef, he sliced through the steak with the same precision of a seasoned butcher, sparing no glance. His eyes were locked on the datapad that was propped up against the wall, displaying the latest episode of Twin Suns, One Heart. Lysander hadn't quite been a fan of the first season, especially with the slower pace and a rather odd Ashla-worshipping antagonist, but season two started with a banger, and now he was officially hooked.

Before long, his Force-attuned senses, sharpening more each month, detected nearby movement. A lifeform approached; thankfully, the presence was familiar. Though confident in the current operation with A’Mia’s greenhouse, a recent surge in customer activity had begun to make him feel paranoid, a heightened state that was both foreign and unwelcoming to be sure.

This was the very reason he’d recently purchased an old, abandoned warehouse in the industrial district with leftover credits from his father’s death. It wasn’t too far from the academy, and offered more privacy, certainly more than he’d experienced since arriving on Korriban. Aside from being a secure spot to receive larger packs from the Neti, it would also be where the acolyte could finally begin exploring music.

Simply put, Lysander was done with dorm life.

At the moment, Lysander lounged comfortably in black athletic sweats, having recently returned from a morning class; the dull lecture turned out to be nearly impossible to follow. Lately, he'd been more obsessed with physical training than ever before, a stark shift from his Padawan years, when he'd been consumed by holotexts.

Prep knife still in hand, and stretching lazily, his muscles rippled under tanned skin, as he gazed across the room to Varin, offering the boy a nod of acknowledgement, and then returning to the holodrama.