Duel Niman's Land

[Loske Treicolt]

Coruscant
Training Facility
​

With a lightsaber so new it practically squeaked when activated, Loske had tapped into a rhythm that was imbued into her system. With each block and strike, a new but somehow known, technique triggered. Things she didn’t know she could do we’re slowly unfurling in her memory banks and triggering to access. But it was messy. Erratic and random. No flow or sequence had been uncovered and while she was staying alive, she wasn’t dominating the droid as she felt she should have been.

She parried to the left and right, practically zoning out in the repetitive motions of deflecting the training’s droid’s strikes. She felt emboldened enough to take a few attempts at using that momentum to twirl and slash between counterstrikes, and yielded some success.

The droid itself was akin to a whirling dervish. With two extensions that were armed and cacophonously clashed against her own weapon on contact.

Well, it had been two extensions for the better part of twelve minutes. It was when a third protruded from its belly that she was caught by surprise. It wielded no weapon other than its fist, and delivered a gutteral punch to her abdomen which forced her backward with a stagger and drop to her knees. Her stomach was still sensitive after the wounds incurred on Chandrila. Quickly, her head snapped back up as the robot stomped toward her intensely. She groaned, winded and still feeling surprised. Frustration culminated at her palm in an explosive outburst that sent the droid reeling backward into a column, cracking the duracreet and it’s metallic bodice crumpling and cracking as a result.

She rose to stand and her zzzzpp’d back into the hilt.

I’m counting that against your record. Frank informed her from the corner, a scrawl of numbers projected to the floor in front of him for her to see.

Wyatt Morga

 

[Wyatt Morga]

The duracrete was cracked, and the droid in shambles. Wyatt couldn’t help but cock his mouth in a wry, mixture of disappointment and pride at it; though he expected some of the more number orientated Jedi would surely talk to him about the costs. Not a concern, he’d probably just take blame for it himself - out of control as he often was.​

​

Surely they’d believe him, he internally mused.​

​

“Your rhythm is good, Loske.”, Wyatt said as he took a few steps into the light; likely the first time he would have been noticed. He glanced for a moment at the numbers Frank took down, and offered a low whistle.​

​

“Not a good day, is it?”, he mused as he walked towards the Duracrete covered remains of the droid.​

​

“Don’t worry about the droid - I’ll take the blame.”, he said as he leaned down to check what damage might have come over it. After rationalizing that whatever was wrong wasn’t that important, he stood and smiled to the Padawan, taking a step towards with a bow.​

​

“My name is Master Morga; I don’t believe we’ve spoken before. It’s a pleasure.”, he said with an inviting smile.​

​

“Your form is excellent, might I mention.”, he said with a quick motion to her, “Is Shii-Cho usually your preferred form?”​

​

Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She jolted with surprise. The observer from the shadows had been undetected by Frank and herself, and she'd been so focused on the droid in front of her she hadn't even considered there'd be an audience. She made a quick gesture when Wyatt Morga commented on the statistics, and Frank concealed the numbers, as if he could inhale the projection.

Loske was at a disadvantage with mutual names until he introduced himself.

"Nice to meet you, too Master Morga." She followed his lead and nodded in his direction.

"I mean," she started with a shrug "There shouldn't be blame to take. This is a training room after all, these sorts of things happen, right? I'm just pointing out engineering flaws." Or not right? Was this a big deal? She supposed it was not like pilot training - that was typically done in simulators where no real damage could be done. Perhaps she should indeed be more sensitive to her surroundings. Her internal musings evidenced as a grimace.

"My form? Oh, thanks, I.." she was about to continue down some sort of conversation when he mentioned something called Shii-Cho.

"I don't think so, what's a Shii-Cho?"

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Furrowing a brow, Wyatt couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed that Cedric’s own padawan didn’t even understand the very basics of the combat. He sighed before lifting a hand out to her, palm upwards to receive -​

​

“If you don’t mind, Padawan, let me see your lightsaber.”​

​

When she would give it, he would ignite it - feel the weight and gyroscopic momentum of the device. It churned like an infant, hardly broken in like his own - but it made him smile; the thought that she might yet feel it grow used to her. He offered it back when he was satisfied it was built to quality standards -​

​

“Shii-Cho is the First Form; it helps to teach the fundamentals of how to handle your lightsaber, young one.”, Wyatt said as the force pulled his own lightsaber into his hand.​

​

It ignited in a rush of blue plasma, whirring as he twisted it about -​

​

“It focuses on long strikes, wide and sweeping cuts. It teaches the form, its the easiest to begin - but a Master of the form can be one of the best duelists in the galaxy.”, he said before he looked to her with a coy smile.​

​

“Would you like to learn something about it?”​

​

Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

There were a lot of titles levelled in the past few seconds, she did her best to blink them away. Her hilt was returned to her and she gave a nod, as if the statement he'd said were obvious. Duh, Shii-Cho is obviously the first form of....many....other numerical forms. Oh man. How many were there? How many more names of things was she going to have to get acquainted with?

That's the problem with ancient orders. They have several years to spend reflecting and improving on what they'd created and then naming them. "Of course, that's..that's also what I know it as." The statement was an incredibly obvious bluff, but he'd already moved on to a demonstration of his own. Her position daren't falter, trusting that he'd have a good enough understanding of his proximity relative to hers and not slice her through the torso with his cerulean whirl.

It was an attractive display, tight and controlled.

"I'd never refuse a willing teacher." Was her agreement to the impromptu lesson. "Appreciate your offer. Yes, please."

To kick things off, she took a moment to adjust her stance, mirroring the one Wyatt Morga had emulated just a handful of seconds ago. It was obvious she was assessing the way he weighted his footwork, and all else, to attempt a mirror of the starting position he'd taken before whirling the blue blade around. When she felt her interpretation was accurate, she ignited her own. Vvrrrmmmmm! The golden extension thrummed loudly - awaiting action - akin to a growling stomach waiting to be filled.

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Quietly, Wyatt considering gift the Padawan with proper training droid; one that would give her the details she needed. The Order wasn’t rich - but the Imperium’s one advantage to his own was that it had an income; where he didn’t. He supposed if he could make a deal for funding, this wouldn’t be as much of an issue in time…​

​

“Shi-Cho is the first of seven forms, Padawan.”, Wyatt offered as his blade moved in a wide arc in front of him - far from her own blade or her body. Slow, deliberate movements that let her watch the perfect way to perform each strike - time and time again.​

​

As the blade whirred in the cadence of a Master, he spoke;​

​

“The Way of the Sarlacc. The Determination Form. It goes by many names, but it was the first to be created, and the easiest to begin with…”, he said with a smile as he thought of his own time learning it. It was relaxing to perform with the blade, and every few moment he would slow himself to a halt and motion her to follow in his path - but he would never correct her. Not yet.​

​

“It focuses on disarming opponents - but it is a raw style. Randomized, unpredictable, it is incredibly dangerous - but it isn’t meant to fight another person with a lightsaber.”, he said as he twirled the blade about him and stopped next to the Padawan;​

​

“And yet, it is what is considered the last form when no others work. The basics are often considered the strongest style.”, he laughed.​

​

“Tell me, Loske, what do you see is the use of a Lightsaber?”​

​

Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Seven! Forms!

Well - that wasn't terrible. Teräs Käsi was comprised of at least that many, but they were individual components - the weaponized individual could marry them how they pleased. She assumed there was a similar train of thought with these lightsaber forms, given the ancient martial discipline was made to counter Jedi. She followed his arcing movements while hosting that internal back-and-forth, before focusing solely on what he had to say. After all, he was giving her more than the time of day, it was lesson time!

Her brows knotted at the mention of sarlacc. Weird. That big tentacle tongue creature? It made more sense when he paired the title with the adjectives of randomized and unpredictable, like those creeping appendages.

"If not an opponent with another lightsaber, then deflecting blaster bolts or something?" She asked, finishing a sweeping gesture that mirrored one of his own before he gave a pause and asked her opinion on the weapon.

There was a pause in the dialogue while she took a second or two to consider the question. Cockily, she gave the blade a twirl through her fingers and it completed a full rotation before she snapped it back in a firm grip once again. A trademark mannerism injected from her maternal donor.

"Optically and vainly, lightsabers are synonymous with Jedi. On the surface, they're a status symbol." The kiffar-clone kept her gaze on the golden rod of plasma, as if assessing it's value while she spoke. It wasn't until she delivered her true opinion that she looked to Wyatt Morga - levelling her gaze to gauge his reaction. "Because it's a weapon that's used when needed - to cut through doorways and opponents alike." She offered a roguish grin. "An extension of my intention, really. Where I and The Force can't succeed without an extra.." the hilt of her blade bounced from one palm to the other, a demonstration of it's lightweight "material assistance." The grip resumed again.

"What're your thoughts?"

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Wyatt resisted telling her she was ‘wrong’, because he knew it was all a matter of perspective. He also knew that Cedric had likely implanted in her that iconic ‘militantsy’ he was known for - Army of Light and all that crusade business. It force the Jedi Master to smile, if not a bit reserved; hiding the sadness he held for the peace Loske may yet have.​

​

“In some sense - I suppose that is true.”, he said with a nod.​

​

“I agree - the Lightsaber is a tool, but not for cutting through doors or opponents if you can help it.”, he said with a shake of his head, flurrying the blade he held before letting the blade dissapear, only to look at the handle itself - as if presenting it to Loske.​

​

“Just the sight of a Lightsaber is often enough to strike fear into most opponents - So I often use it simply as a means of intimidation, to inspire awe and fear in those that would threaten the peace.”​

​

Though he couldn’t help but feel hypocritical - Wyatt had cut down more than most with his skills in the blade. Some referred to him as a ‘Battlemaster’, harsh as it was, but he more often considered himself a pacifist - if only slightly. So after a moment, he chose to support her - despite himself.​

​

“- But, it can be used for that if you need. Just mind when you should draw it.”, he offered her with a smile.​

​

“Lets run through it again - Cadences are important for meditation, and learning how to control the feedback of the lightsaber in your hands.”, he said as his ignited once more, and he took a form.​

​

He would show Loske the Cadence many times before ceasing, waiting for her to tire - of him, of the training, or from exhaustion, but he would never correct her - only offer small guidance until she eventually found her rhythm.​

​

Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

That made sense, particularly since the introduction to the first form, Shii-Cho, was off the principle of not using it against someone else who had a lightsaber.

Loske's aptitude for adoption was evidenced in her following the machinations of the Master. While it was a foreign concept to the youth, the movements were triggering imbued reactions spliced into her DNA. The motions were well-practiced from her donors, and the repetition was helping to draw that comfort out to the fore.

The took Wyatt Morga 's words to heart, and focused on keeping her mind clear of any preconceived notions. Attention on the task at hand, she became all the more aware of the humming reverberations of the hilt against her palm, the sound of the blade cutting through nothing. When she tightened her grip, the swoop through the air sounded more powerful, when she relaxed, it was a softer slice. These were minutiae details but important for her to familiarize with.

"How do you know when you're good enough, or, prepared to move on?" She asked, breaking the rhythmic silence of the yellow and blue sabers dancing through nothingness. This was surely boring for him, given he was a Master and all that.

"Is that something you can assess from your vantage point, or is it all me?"

She gave the blade another twirl, growing more accustomed to the weight in her hand. "Because I've got to be frank,"

From the corner of the room, Frank, the astromech, made a contentious wheheerrrooot.

She rolled her eyes, and by way of explanation for her droid's behaviour gave a shrug and indicative nod of her head in his direction.

"Sorry, Frank would like you to know I'm not him. I'm just being blunt... but - It's hard to gauge progress when I'm not interacting with anything."

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Slowing to a standstill, Wyatt listened to her problem - of not knowing when she was ‘good enough’. He couldn’t help but smile at the nativity, but not out of malice or pride; but out of innocence. Wyatt placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke soft -​

​

“The only one to know when you’re good enough, is you.”, he offered, before removing his hand and taking a step back;​

​

“That is the truth, but it is also Jedi Master nonsense - which I’m sure you’re bored of.”, he said with idle fancy.​

​

“So - I’ll offer this. While I prattle on about philosophy, would you like a duel? Just to practice your ability, that is - I don’t think you will hurt me.”, Wyatt said with a smile as he rested the ignited blue blade to his side.​

​

Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Sounded like the jury was out on grading her improvement, then. She gave a reluctant nod to his offer - which turned into a far more enthusiastic bob when he suggested instead of talking, they do some swordplay.

But he didn't think she'd hurt him.

The kiffar's mouth twitched as a series of reactions abated and she selected her own personality from the options "If I were more my mother's daughter, Master Morga, I'd take that as a challenge." Alas, the former Republic's Sweetheart would be vastly disappointed in her kin's priorities being more focused on actually learning rather than dealing damage.

She took a pace back and drew her blade parallel to her midsection in a salute, the golden iridescence of the blade highlighting her features before giving it a one handed twirl by her side and centring by her left side and bringing it back to a two-handed grip, the angle of the blade pointed slightly in Wyatt Morga 's direction.

Given he was a Master of the form, and several others (by assumption) and the Force itself, Loske figured he'd have the basic never attack first line down pretty pat by now. Therefore, she took it upon herself to deliver the first swing to assess the reaction time. It was similar to the intention of a pre-emptive strike in the iron fist combat she was used to, but this time, using a physical weapon as an extension of self rather than her hands. The strike was a parry that came from her angled, two-handed grip, downward toward his front line. She fully expected him to counter it, but the learnings were all in the interactions.

 

[Wyatt Morga]

“It could be a challenge.”, he said with a smug grin.​

​

Wyatt idled with his blade to his side - open to any strike she would give; and strike first she would. The blade swung out - quick, but testing, Wyatt could see she was apprehensive. Slight as it were, the Force offered that much to him with little more than a glance at her footwork. His own blade swung to the side and caught hers as he began to speak;​

​

“Something else to note about Shii-Cho, Loske-”, Wyatt offered as a second strike followed;​

​

“There doesn’t have to be moving on. It could, very well be, your only form if you so chose.”​

​

The Jedi Master ducked the next strike, side stepping the one after that - more to show her that a blade didn’t have to be involved at all times. He was, however, on the back foot - and would remain on it so long as he hoped to. Soon, he’d reverse the pressure - but not just yet.​

​

His feet kept dancing as he blocked, bobbed, and weaved away from her strikes - noticing every few taking more of her cadence into their rhythms. If he could help it, he’d even force her to strike in the next instance of the cadence; hoping a more physical representation of the movements would help enforce it - though he was also hoping she wouldn’t notice.​

​

“Jedi Master Kit Fisto was a renowned Shii-Cho Master; even took on General Grevious once. During the apprehension of Darth Sidious, he lasted longer than the other two Jedi with him; saying something, considering only-”, Wyatt ducked another strike before standing and finishing his sentence.​

​

“- Only Mace Windu was able to fight on Sidious’s level.”​

​

Wyatt responded with his own lurch of an attack - though slow enough he thought Loske could catch his blade. A simple strike, horizontal to her side - but followed by a quick and uneasy swing back around; par for the course of Form I. Were she ever unable to catch his barrage, he would simply pull his strike before it touched her, offering the low and simple word ‘Hit.’ as feedback.​

​

Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

There were seven forms. It didn't seem right to stalemate at one. "That doesn't seem too fair to the other six." Loske responded affording a simper of her own and splitting her focus for a moment and awkwardly bringing her blade forward to meet his, which he deflected. Probably shouldn't do so much talking while starting to get the hang of this, and should focus on the breathing, dancing and swinging. "Should at least give them a go.

And what form did Master Windu use?" Something itched at her knuckles. As if someone had rapped them. Subconsciously, she knew she was supposed to know the answer - but it was buried deep in the recesses of her recollection.

React.

A suggestion from the unseen caused her to move in time with Wyatt Morga 's subtle acceleration. Her training blade snapped to react - drawing her last strike over with a downward block, resulting in a cacophonous sizzle between the two weapons. The deflection was likely expected, and he swung back around. The speed was welcomed, but Loske had awkwardly trapped herself in the overhead block. The more practiced hand-to-hand combat kicked into gear, and she rapidly reached out to intercept Wyatt's wrist on his secondary strike. Augmented slightly, she moved to grip his arm and push it away. While that may have worked, her move from the block was too slow and there was a hum of blue near her ear and she grimaced at the word hit.

The fluid motions he'd been instructing her felt as restrictive as they were wild, as if they were on the precipice of something. So close, without taking the final leap. It felt frustrating.

"This feels incomplete." She shrugged, and made a purposeful step away from his humming sword, tapping it slightly with her own before giving more space between them. Her toes angled in the direction she intended to move, as he'd done earlier with his footwork. "That's on me. I'm restricting myself. I've got to feel this flow better." She gave a shake, fixing her weight from toe to heel and her free hand moved as if drying it from a wash. This was a common theme with her, the first try was tepid and half-hearted. A barrier she placed on herself. Second go around was far more felicitous.

She gave a cock of her head in his direction, rogue grin, and gave the blade a twist before gesturing to continue if he was game. "I started last time."

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Somehow, as Loske mentioned trying the other ‘Six’ forms, and asking what form Master Windu used, Wyatt couldn’t help but regret mentioning them. As they came to a stop, he considered simply avoiding the subject - knowing that she already had her curiosity peaked. Wyatt also knew that if he hid it from her, it’d only drive her curiosity onwards.​

​

“Master Windu performed… Juyo. Well, a form of it - Vaapad.”, the Jedi offered with some resistance.​

​

“If you’re ever to learn it, I’d like you to speak to me first - the practice is dangerous, and even I don’t use it often. It’s more than a fighting style, Loske, its a mentality; and it brings you closer to the Dark Side than anything else I have to offer you.”​

​

Letting his shoulders relax a bit, he sighed and took a step back before falling back in line with her. She learned quickly, and that inspired Wyatt - her footwork had already begun to improve, even if she didn’t acknowledge it. His blade stood out in front of him, and he took on a Shii-Cho form himself; though by comparison, he had a far more advanced stance.​

​

With blade to the side, he nodded to the Padawan. If she wanted him to start, he would show her a bit of the flavour one could form with Shii-Cho; its chaotic, staccato movements were his forte - at least in the moment. His blade came quick from the right, but before it truly came into strike, Wyatt spun on his feet - almost looking he was about to fall, and yet he placed his feet with a surprising coordination.​

​

He smiled as the blade stopped a few inches from her head -​

​

“Hit.”, he offered as she moved to strike back; and once again Wyatt was on the defensive, but not without his own measure of strikes to make Loske feel it was reasonably useful to train with him.​

​

Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Vaapad. The word wasn’t lost on her. As if it were a part of her vocabulary from a life not yet lived. Her lips parted to intone the word inaudibly while Wyatt Morga continued his explanation, brow furrowed slightly as she tried to trace back the roots of the familiar origin. Far be it from her knowledge, but that form seven was the trigger for all her explosive problems. Her mother had been able to practice it because of her innate darkness. Loske’s only shadows were apathy - the darkside was beyond her grips. It sounded like the method required one to delve into a level of anger that was taboo for titled Jedi.

A brow quirked at Master Morga’s reflection, before he elected to dive back into action. Which she appreciated. The disordered manifestations were tricky to follow, and when she thought she’d got a sense of his trajectory, her movements were obstructed by the reality of his strike. With a shake of her head, she pushed his hand away with tight lips. The benefit of observation meant it was now impressed on her memory, which would imbue her reflexes and give her a something to replicate, or infuse into her own adoption of the method.

“How do you choose when to use a particular form over others?” She asked, negating the concerns he may have had about her foolish pursuits of a dangerous technique. "Situational, I assume - and then whichever feels best for you to adopt to your scenario?"

Following the question, she moved to enact. The steps she took were not dissimilar to the origin of his former successful, but where he went right she went left and gathered the confidence to introduce her own agility. Her natural combative methods were not so rigid, rather evidential of flexibility and athleticism. Left, right, left she struck and he parried. She could feel the jarring up her arm as their blades sizzled, yellow and blue striking sparks off each other.


Huff. Grunt.

The more she pressed, she better her momentum came. The motions driven by instinct.

"Which is your preferred form?"

Disjointed swipes slide off one another, until she made a final break with an intentional twist. Integrating some known movements from her melee combat, she made a decisive jab that would intentionally seek to stop any fluidity to Wyatt’s opposition. This downward strike to push his sword’s tip to the floor, was paired with a kick that rose from thigh-height upward to the gut - an attempted demonstration of Shii-Cho’s intent to disarm.

 

[Wyatt Morga]

“It depends…”, he idled as he flourished his weapon. Their blades connected once more, and Wyatt decided the best option would be to offer her a glimpse at each - to explain their purpose.​

​

The first was Makashi, and he demonstrated it with a sudden switch in form - letting their blades lock and move about on his control, with seemingly little effort. A few times, he even came within distance to touch her with the blade - but he never did, nor did he call hit, only spoke;​

​

“Makashi I often use for one on one duels, things that require finesses. If there are plenty of bystanders, it is often the best choice for saving collateral damage - but also works in ship hallways against others. It was designed for that reason, to fight lightsaber duelists.”, he offered before switching to a tight, defensive position.​

​

She would notice almost instantly that her attacks would only ever meet his blade - and he never seemed to move from his spot. With some effort, he put her in a position of open counter attack - but never struck outwards as he spoke;​

​

“Soresu for time. To give me time to think, to find an opening - but more often, I use it to protect myself from blasters. A lightsaber has the incredible ability to stop stray blasters, and while shields can often do the same thing - theres a peace in using the blade. It is perhaps, my most trained form, if I’m honest - I can perform it without thinking.”, he offered with a smile before rushing backwards.​

​

Where the other forms he never moved to strike her - Ataru wasn’t a form you couldn’t do that. He tore through the mat with incredible speed before jumping over her, lighting touching her back with his hand - ‘Hit’, then moving to strike out with a flurry of lightsaber blades that did equal parts to stun as they did to give him a chance to repeat ‘Hit’ over and over - but after only a moment of an example, he backed up and smile -​

​

“Ataru is more acrobatic. It utilizes Force Body, but it isn’t one I rely one - but it is an exceptional form to overwhelm singular opponents, but I use it more as a means to move about in a fight; less often as a means to kill.”​

​

For Shien, he fought with strength, slapping her blade out of the way over and over as he spoke -​

​

“Shien and Djem So; a form I use against blaster users, but also against less skilled duelists. The strength required isn’t easy to muster, but it is often the most effective way to drive someone into submission - through sheer impression.”, he offered before stopping.​

​

At the last, he offered a small push of the Force, sliding her back on her feet as he took a Niman form;​

​

“The most practical form is Niman, using a mixture of one’s force ability in conjunction with their ability to wield a blade; one of my more often used techniques against opponents. For the most balanced form, I would certainly choose it - but that is eventually going to be up to you.”​

​

He sighed as he stopped, purposefully refusing to show the last form to her. She learned quick, Wyatt could see that much - and he wouldn’t be the reason she would experience the Dark Side at such a developmental age in her Jedi training. With a sigh, he took a step back as he offered her own example of Shii-Cho disarmament;​

​

And it was impressive. His blade was driven to the ground, and before Wyatt knew it, a foot was coming directly for his gut; a surprise to say the least, but a welcome one. With a quick smile, and a hand that moved faster than sight - he caught her foot, cushioned the hit, but didn’t stop her or counter.​

​

He’d let her have that one, sliding back as he let go of the saber he was so fond of. With both hands up he beamed;​

​

“Hit.”, he laughed before pulling his lightsaber back to his hand with the Force.​

​

“Good work, Loske. You learn quickly.”​

​

Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Makashi. Soresu. Ataru. Shien. Djem So. Shii Cho. Niman.

The names were beautiful, their descriptions deadly. His demonstrations were enthralling, and while she gracelessly jabbed and parried, he effortlessly evidenced mastery in deflecting and teaching. Watching them and witnessing them in action, they were catalogued in her eidetic recollection for training. Her memory was faulty for everything but combat - in which case, being a student was effectively weaponized.

In the end, she realized a particular fondness for the showcase of athleticism of Ataru and was annoyed she'd spent so much time on Shii-Cho. Anyway!

Wyatt Morga let her show what she'd learned so far, and delivered a compliment at the end.

"Thank you." She gave a mock curtsey and a twirl of her blade. "You're a knowledgeable teacher. How long have you been studying these techniques? Most of the masters you quoted seemed to have an affinity for just one, but you seem to know a...lot about..several."

 

[Wyatt Morga]

For a moment, Wyatt considered her question - as though he wasn’t entirely sure himself. The man didn’t seem like it on first glance, but he was well over a century old, all due to his Morellian genetic structure - a gift that did wonders for his skin, it seemed.​

​

“I believe I began training around 710 ABY; so about 150 years or so?”, he said, as though he had lost track.​

​

“Not many are gifted with such time to focus on such things - and most are even less inclined to worry about the militant side of the Jedi Order. Many I’ve mentioned preferred the pacifism of the doctrines we teach, and it was only when requested by the Republic did they turn to War.”, he offered gently.​

​

“... There is another Form I didn’t mention, Loske; but it might be the most powerful, and most important. Form Zero.”, he offered as he held his lightsaber out to his side. It deactivated, retracting that harsh blue blade back into the hilt as he spoke;​

​

“What many of those masters were known for wasn’t their skill in the blade, but their knowledge of when to use it. How to use it. A lightsaber is more dangerous deactivated than out infront of you - and I hope you can learn the why of that in time.”​

​

Ominious, but when wasn’t a Jedi Master’s teachings? Wyatt offered with little more than a smile before asking her a question;​

​

“Do you want to continue?”​

​

Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

One Hundred.

And.

Fifty Years.

Her jaw dropped at the casual reflection on time. Wyatt had been oppressing darkness for over a century, and still tirelessly pressed on? Her teeth clicked shut as she went through this internal musing and appreciation. One of the things she appreciated about her Master, was he'd been fighting for more years than she’d been “alive” - and he was still a glutton for more - it seemed Wyatt was similar. But for far longer. How'd he keep his zeal? She only let out a shallow "Wow" of awe while he continued, pivoting back to a lesson.

"So form zero is the baseline threat." She attempted to paraphrase. The suggestion of power within a weapon, and the confidence to not have to use it. Only The Force or dialogue.

"Please." She nodded, and took a step back. Mentally she challenged herself to push outside the bounds of Shii-Cho. His light demonstrations of each form were enough to catalogue some of the key movements for each form, which would subsequently trigger adequate recollection from any memory imprints of either her donors.

With her reverse grip, she adjusted her stance to start a new. Instead of forcing herself to follow the choreography that Wyatt Morga demonstrated, she opened herself up to The Force. It wasn't as alive within this room as it was in a more natural location, but she could still feel it. Especially around the Jedi Master. It seemingly coalesced around him, and she pocketed her ethereal jealousy to a more constructive focus -- her own presence and connection.

Within the grace of a moment, the droid that had been a collapsed heap in the distance animated once more. Not by excellent circuitry, but by the will of the Padawan. Its trajectory manifested as intending to collide with the century-and-a-half-old Jedi Master (who apparently had a great retinol practice), while the girl controlling it split her focus to charge at Wyatt with a dip of her bodice and a low swipe at his shins.

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Where Loske had chosen to go low - Wyatt instinctually went high; but while his first reaction was an escape, his mind instantly went to the vaguely open upper area of Loske’s defense. In one thought, he considered grabbing her head with his knees - and twisting her down; but decided that was far too rough, and didn’t teach so much of a lesson as gave the padawan whiplash. In the next, he considered striking the blade downwards - calling a hit on her exposed shoulders and back; but again decided that wasn’t enough to drive home a lesson.​

​

More realistically, he thought he’d show her another example of Ataru; and instead pressed his hand against hers to flip over the girl in an overzealous flip notorious for the form. It wasn’t all too much pressure, she wouldn’t be driven to the floor - but the possibility of it was certainly there.​

​

Wyatt offered her a smile as he rested his blade out in front of him; beaming -​

​

“In some sense, it is the baseline threat - but it also to have people trust the Jedi. We are not Sith, and having allies is far more important that garish displays of power.”​

​

Wyatt spun back to a Makashi form, and sent his blade rushing towards her - and where it wasn’t striking towards her, it was nimbly running her blade away from him; his other hand moving to form a fist behind his back.​

​

Loske Treicolt​