Private Morning Fire, Mandalorian Stone

[Valery Noble]

The Mandalore morning broke over the horizon.

In one of the old training courtyards nestled between sun-warmed stone and watchful towers, Valery moved with the kind of rhythm that came not from discipline, but from habit — muscle memory burned into bone. Sweat gleamed along her collarbone, catching the light as she pivoted on bare feet, breath controlled, body coiled.

Her violet blade flared to life with a sharp hum.

Across from her, a hovering training remote darted erratically through the air, red targeting sensors pulsing.

Zzzt!

A bolt fired.

She caught it clean on the angle of her saber, the plasma dissipating in a bright flash off the violet edge. Another shot — this one lower, faster — and she twisted, deflecting it away without even looking. Her eyes were forward. Focused and calm.

The hum of the saber and the sharp pew-pew of incoming fire filled the courtyard. Around her, the city stirred — engines rumbling in the streets, armor clinking in motion. But in this ring of stone and dust, Valery was alone with the Force and the fire. She stepped forward, blade angled down. The remote fired again. She didn't hesitate.

This was her language. This was her breath.

And if the Mandalorians were watching?

Let them see.

Tyr Mereel ​

 

[Tyr Mereel]

The morning still brought with it the icy winds of the night, long shadows beginning to appear with the sight of daybreak.

The large Mandalorian made his trek down to the training yard, the wind striking his form and coming to a dead halt by the pure size that Tyr had grown to become, his eyes downward cast lost in thought.

Nearing the training grounds he heard the sound of training, saber deflecting blaster bolts, not an unusual sound for a member of the Knights to be preforming, but it was strange to see many of them around this early in the morning, it was usually his time to practice in the early morning hours.

Finally rounding the corners his eyes locked on the movements of the Jedi, moving as swiftly as the wind, and with the grace of an eagle. Instead of interrupting he stood just passed the doorway, leaning against what little of the frame he could and mapped the movements she made, studying her form, it was rare that he fought anyone with such use of the force and technique with a lightsaber, and could use the time to enhance his ability to counteract their moves.

Even with his size his footfalls were silent like a lion stalking its prey, biding his time before it was time to strike.

Tyr could only notice how natural the moves came to her, every step seemed less calculated and more pure instinct.

Even as the droid seemed to shoot in odd intervals and different arrays of fire, none of it seemed to phase the Jedi as she danced around the courtyard, Tyr easily could tell she was very proficient with the blade, and had most likely been in a scrap once or twice and had to have learned the skills she was practicing in front of him.

Valery Noble​

 

[Valery Noble]

The final bolt screamed toward her chest — fast, direct — but Valery didn't falter. She pivoted with a clean twist of her torso, her saber slicing through the air in a tight arc. The violet blade snapped upward, caught the bolt mid-flight, and flung the energy harmlessly away.

Silence returned to the courtyard. Only the wind remained, brushing over the sand and her skin with equal indifference.

Valery stood still for a moment, letting the hum of her saber fade as she powered it down with a soft click-hiss. The training remote bobbed in place for a second before retreating. She exhaled — not from exertion, but to steady herself — and let her muscles ease. Then, slowly, she raised a hand through her hair, sweeping back strands that clung to her neck from the sheen of sweat.

Her back was still to him when she spoke.

"You planning to just stand there and watch me all morning…"

A slight pause.

"…or were you hoping for a turn?" She cast a glance over her shoulder, and a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth — playful, but edged with heat. Her amber eyes met his like she'd known he was there the entire time.

Of course she had.

"You're quiet," she added, letting the smirk linger. "But not that quiet. To a Jedi, anyway." She turned then — slowly — arms loose at her sides, confidence in every step. Not a challenge.

Just an invitation.

Tyr Mereel ​

 

[Tyr Mereel]

As the Jedi began to speak to Tyr he stopped brooding in his corner and rose to his full height as he made a pace or two towards her giving a polite nod in greeting towards her.

As he grew near his features came clearer into view, scars riddled his face and arms, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail as two braids ran parallel on the sides of his face, a thick accent boomed from him as he began to speak

"I apologize if I was an interruption to your training Master Jedi, you have seemed to procured my training grounds for the morning."

He motioned with his arms, his voice carrying even with little effort, as he spoke the uniqueness of his canines protruding further then most other humans was pronounced to the average observer.

The only motion that lingered from a moment was his eyes examined how she held herself pondering for a few moments before continuing.

"It would be an honor Master Jedi to be able to train with someone of your knowledge and renown, I just ask of you one thing — don't hold back, I promise I can take it."

This last line escaped his lips with a wild grin as the bloodlust for a nice fight hit his eyes, seeming to bring forth a hunger deep inside him, a gleam hitting his eyes.

Valery Noble​

 

[Valery Noble]

Valery's brow arched slightly as he stepped forward — tall, scarred, composed in a way that spoke more of discipline than vanity. She noted the canines, the accent, the commanding presence. A warrior through and through.

But that wild grin?

That brought out one of her own.

She turned fully to face him now, posture relaxed but alert, every inch the seasoned fighter she was. Her fingers brushed the hilt of her lightsaber idly — not as a threat, but out of habit. There was a certain language in moments like this. A familiar rhythm between warriors. She recognized it in the way he carried himself. The tension in his jaw. The flicker of fire in his eyes.

He wanted a fight. A real one.

"You were no interruption," she said, the warmth in her voice cutting through the lingering quiet of the courtyard. "If anything, I should apologize for stealing your spot." Her smirk returned — sharp, amused — and she stepped forward, closing a bit of the distance between them.

"I don't usually take requests," she added, "but since you asked so nicely…" Her head tilted ever so slightly, eyes narrowing with just enough playfulness to edge toward danger. "I won't hold back." Then she rolled her shoulders once, loosening her muscles, and gave him a measured look from head to toe.

"So…" she said, the name pronounced deliberately, like she was trying it on. "Do you want to spar with weapons, or are we keeping this… personal?"

Her grin deepened.

"I'm good either way."

Tyr Mereel ​

 

[Tyr Mereel]

Tyr's large hands moved to the top of his head, and the other to his chin as he cracked his neck one way, and then the other his eyes returning to the Jedi Master's, the fire behind them burning as bright as ever.

"Master Jedi, I prefer my fights El Natural if you don't mind, no need to involve silly weapons to a fight that can be settled with ones body."

Rolling his shoulders back he brought his hands up in front of him putting them near his face in a classic boxing stance.

Even though his body and eyes showed the wild desire for a fight, behind them lurked an acute awareness, his eyes continuously scanning her figure throughout their whole interaction, waiting for her to make a move.

"I am glad you won't hold back, it would be very rude of you not to indulge your hosts in a request as simple as this, but I would understand if you were — scared?"

The primal look in eye only seemed to grow as he looked at the Jedi, poking at the Bantha to see if it would nip back.

Every muscle in his body readied itself for explosive action, taking a more reserved approach instead of taking a more aggressive stance, even though he was taking quite the opposite stance in his demeanor with the Jedi.

In a fight there is only two things that are inherently known,

A Winner,

And

A Loser

Valery Noble​

 

[Valery Noble]

Valery smiled.

Not the usual polite kind. This one was slower, sweeter, and had just enough mischief in it to sting. "Scared?" she repeated, as if tasting the word for the first time. Her head tilted slightly, eyes locked on his with a calm that only made the grin more dangerous. "I've dropped bigger men than you. Meaner ones, too."

She took a single step forward, letting her presence settle fully into the space. Her shoulders rolled once more, this time like a predator stretching before the pounce. Every motion was relaxed but precise, her weight shifting onto the balls of her feet as her arms came up.

And then came the wink.

Just a flash of amusement behind those amber eyes before her stance shifted and she lunged. No hesitation. No warning. Her first move was a feint to the left, followed by a sharp strike aimed for his ribs. Fluid and fast, her form didn't waste motion. It was aggressive, direct, a clear message.

She wasn't here to dance around.

She was here to win.

Tyr Mereel ​