Private Practice, practice, practice.

[Braze]

Tags: Acier Moonbound ​

It was early morning when Braze got up. He still stuck to a relatively regimented schedule for each day of his life. It gave him structure, even if it did just feel like he was going through the motions. But he knew well that if you didn't use it, you lost it. That held true for strength and flexibility alike. Even those who danced or played music would only need a week or two to lose their edge.

He'd long learned that the rest was just as important as practice.

He'd chosen one of the black sand arenas where floral wisteria trees arched high overhead. There was a sweet wind that came through every so often, since this training room was more exposed to the outside elements, that would offer a new challenging element to the tightrope routine.

He wrenched the rope's secured section as tight as he could before moving to test its give, leaning over it and pressing his weight against it. This would do nicely.

He shifted to draw up the candles from the boxes and used the Force to elegantly set them out on their displays. This setup used to take so long, but now it had become such common routine that he'd learned to utilize the Force to greater degree, carefully setting out all the placements. Next was the set of small metal balls from their boxes, drawn up in levitation as he moved to carefully guide them all to rest atop each candle tip, balancing them softly with pinpoint precision.

Outside, the day was only just beginning to wake. Light spilled through the stained glass windows in ribbons of color. Soft blues, pale golds, and rose hues bending across the black sand floor. The wisteria trees swayed gently beyond the open arches, their blossoms trembling in the morning breeze. The air smelled faintly of dew and fragrant petals, carrying the far-off murmur of early birdsong. Shadows and dappled lighting rippled across the arena as the leaves moved, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as though the entire space breathed with him... slow and alive.

He took in that quiet stillness before returning to his practice... it offered a reset and lesson in patience, balance, and calm meditative serenity.

He shifted, stepping up onto the rope and rising to his full height with careful, practiced grace. The line bowed ever so slightly beneath his weight. He balanced there, still as glass, before slipping a length of black satin through his fingers, feeling its cool texture whisper across his skin. With a deft motion, he drew it upward over his eyes, plunging himself into darkness.

Three lightsabers lifted from their mounts at his silent command, hilts gliding into the air through the unseen pull of the Force. One ignited, then the next, then the last, each blade blooming to life in slow succession, bathing the black sand arena in shifting hues of violet, teal, and gold.

The sabers began to move, slow and deliberate, tracing graceful arcs through the air as they orbited him. They turned and spun, each movement a physical reflection of his internal focus, the somber hum eminating from each. The scent of flowers now mingled with the faint ozone tang of plasma, and the world seemed to narrow to sound, breath, and motion alike.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Veridia - Veridian Jedi Temple

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

The first thing he noticed was the color of the sand. Black, like ash. The air carried the scent of salt and flowers, two things that shouldn't have coexisted but somehow did. Veridia was good at that apparently, contradiction. A temple rebuilt atop ruins. Peace layered over memory.

He hadn't meant to find the place. But whispers and rumors stirred the young man's curiosity, a mess of dead links and star coordinates, but one name had repeated more than once: Ashlanti Elysium. A temple that refused to die. Tic had replayed it for him again and again, until the coordinates aligned with a patch of ocean on the navchart.

Now, standing at the edge of the enclave's open courtyard, Ace felt the hum of the Force here. It was deep, old, and unforced. It didn't roar or demand, just... breathed. Like the sea against the rocks below.

He'd come looking for quiet. Maybe answers, or an epiphany. What he found was an arena of black sand, and a blindfolded man balanced on a rope above three humming blades of light.

Ace stopped at the threshold, silent, the ocean wind brushing through the white cords of his hair. For a moment, he just watched. Almost as if he was studying the man.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Tags: Acier Moonbound ​

The porcelain skinned half Echani held his posture for a long moment, letting his balance settle upon the taut rope before taking another careful step forward. His breath was release din a slow deliberate exhale as he moved using his hands briefly making somatic gestures, his awareness spreading through the web of motion surrounding him. Three lightsabers hovered in the air around his form, each blade spinning and snapping in perfect synchronization. Their movements traced an intricate rhythm , the patterning conveying an almost musical tempo of Faalo's Cadences, an ancient Jedi discipline meant to test skill and control.

Blindfolded, Braze relied on the subtle currents of the Force to guide his steps. The blades darted in arcs of color, cutting through the air with surgical precision, each strike timed to snap at the tiny ball bearings that hung suspended around him igniting each candle as their balls were struck off it's tip.

Sweat beaded on his skin, but his breathing remained even and aware of it's self. The sabers wove their dance spinning around him with one sweeping low, another circling his head, the third cutting across in a diagonal slash that narrowly grazed the space near his arm. Yet not a single stroke faltered. It was an impressive feat to say the least.

A smile tugged at his lips even as the blades spun dangerously close.

"If you're planning to sneak up on someone, Might I suggest that maybe you start with someone who isn't juggling three lightsabers blindfolded~?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Veridia - Veridian Jedi Temple

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Acier didn't react to Braze noticing him. Despite being blindfolded, he was certain the Echani would sense him in the Force. Folding his arms, he watched the three lightsabers idly in the air before finally answering.

"Who said I was sneaking?" Ace shot back. "Figured you didn't need a distraction." He paused, tilting his head slightly "Considering you're blindfolded."

During the exchange, Ace didn't reach out with the Force - Braze's presence pressed on to his senses. It was bright, loud even in stillness. Confidence wrapped around conviction, heat tempered by discipline.

Initially, Ace had planned only to watch in silence, to study. But since the Echani seemed plenty capable of talking and balancing, blindfolded at the same time.

The young rebel took a few steps closer before continuing, "What is this? Some alternate meditation? A multi-tasking exercise?"

Tic, stood at Ace's heel, added his own curious trill as he tilted his head - photoreceptor flickering at the sight before them.

Braze ​

 

[Braze]

Tags: Acier Moonbound
​

"Perhaps not sneaking," he replied evenly, "Still, you move quietly for someone with questions."

Braze's lithe figure bent forwards like a reed in the breeze, fingers curling around the tightrope as his body arched with liquid precision. His core tightened, lifting his legs upward until he balanced in a handstand above the trembling line. The rope quivered beneath his palms as his weight shifted, but he held steady.

Then, with measured control, he shifted his weight, lowering one foot to the wire, then the other. His body pivoted fluidly as he pressed through the motion, sliding backward along the narrow line until he settled into a deep front split. The movement was executed seamlessly with grace.

Above him, the spinning blades slowed to a crawl, their hum fading as they disengaged and drifted toward him, drawn by some unseen pull. He arched backwards, contorting his frame as he grasped the wire.

With a subtle exhale, he tightened his core and rolled his weight backwards, pressing through his palms as his legs folded in. The motion carried him in one smooth sweep, split to stand with an inverted split midair, before landing in a crouching pose, bending forwards in a roll before moving to stand. The rope trembled, but his balance never broke.

When he straightened fully, his blades had already returned to their mounts along his belt, his main saber settling centrally at the front, his off-hand weapon snapping into the rear ventral mount, and the two-handed hilt magnetizing to the plate rig beneath his shirt.

He held out a hand toward the onlooker, twisting it into an open palm facing upward and extending it out.

"Consider it a more challenging twist, combining acrobatics with Faalo’s Cadence."

He stepped down and off the rope with an Ataru-style dismount. “The Fifth Cadence’s goal is to test one’s self. Typically, it is done on the ground. One must rely on the Force and kinetically manipulate their lightsaber, performing a set of complex sequences with the blade as a test of physical, mental, and sensory control and precision. It takes approximately three hours to complete, testing one’s endurance and pacing as well. Traditionally, Padawans who could demonstrate blindfolded mastery of the technique were exempt from the Trial of Skill.”

He explained as a gust of eerie wind swept through the training hall, extinguishing the candles all at once. Moving toward the tightrope's anchor, he set a hand on the ratchet and began unfastening it, removing the rope as though tidying the black sand arena. Braze, still blindfolded, moved with steady composure as he set about restoring order to this space.

"I was unaware anyone had scheduled to use this training hall today," Braze said, his tone careful and composed. He paused, tilting his head slightly as if trying to gauge the newcomer's presence through the still air. The faintest crease formed between his brows. "My apologies... I didn't mean to intrude."

He adjusted his footing on the sand, posture lowering a touch, hands steady as he resumed coiling the rope. Yet his attention lingered subtly on the stranger, tracing the rhythm of their breathing, the sound of their steps, and the weight of their silence.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Veridia - Veridian Jedi Temple

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace stayed quiet through most of what Braze did, not out of awe, but focus. The kind of still attention that came from a fighter watching another's form, reading them in silence.

The Echani's movements were seamless. When Braze tipped forward into a handstand, the rope trembling beneath him, Ace felt the strain through the Force, tension wound tight and then released in rhythm with his exhale. The hum of the lightsabers faded, one by one, until only the wind filled the space again.

By the time Braze landed and rolled to his feet, Ace had unfolded his arms, posture loosening just slightly.

"Don't think you're the one intruding." He said at last, tone even but not unfriendly. His gaze followed the rope as it was unfastened. "Place looked empty. Figured it wouldn't hurt to explore a little.."

Tic chirped in agreement as Ace shifted a step closer, boots sinking faintly into the black sand. His eyes studied the Echani's extended hand as he listened to him explain the 'Fifth Cadence'.

But before he could respond, he felt the wind. It wasn't natural, carrying a static pulse beneath it. It held the faint hint of corruption. A presence he was all too familiar with by now, the Dark side. It extinguished the candles and crawled along his skin. Ace's jaw tightened. He didn't draw on the Force to meet it, he just endured it, grounding himself in the rhythm of his breath. By the time the candles went out, the unease had already settled in his gut.

"Three hours of that?" He said, glancing at the rope the Echani had removed. "Can't say I've ever had the patience."

Tic chirped once from Ace's heel, a curious note that almost sounded like applause. Ace's brow lifted faintly.

"You can relax. I'm not here to take your spot." He said, a trace of humor threading through his calm. "Don't even know what I'm doing here, to be honest."

The air had gone still again, but it wasn't the same stillness as before. Ace's shoulders stayed loose, though the back of his neck prickled. His senses lingered open just enough to track the currents around Braze, wary of what might be coiled beneath all that composure.

"You train here often?"

Braze ​

 

[Braze]

Tags: Acier Moonbound ​

"Well… perhaps the Force led you here for a reason," Braze said softly. His tone held a gentle amusement. "There's more right for others to be here than for me, I think."

He lifted a hand, calling the scattered candles and practice spheres to drift upward before neatly guiding them back into their places. The motion was effortless, more habit than focus.

With the space cleared, he turned his head toward the newcomer. "I train here often," he admitted. "It's quiet here... far from the noise and turmoil of the galaxy."

Only then did he reach up to loosen the blindfold, drawing it free. Pale jade eyes settled on the young man before him. "Regardless… welcome to Veridia," he said with a small bow of his head. "I'm Braze. Battle Master of the Temple. I take it you're a student of one of the Orders?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Veridia - Veridian Jedi Temple

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

For a moment, Ace just watched the candles rise, the spheres gliding back into their boxes. It was clean, practiced. Braze had clearly reached an understanding of the Force, the way he commanded it was as if he was operating from muscle memory.

When Braze finally looked his way, Ace met his pale green gaze without flinching. "Battlemaster." He repeated, like he was turning the title over in his mind. "Didn't expect to find one this far from the Core."

He didn't bow back. Not out of disrespect, it just wasn't really him. Instead, he offered a small nod. "Acier Moonbound." He said quietly. "Nah, not a student. Not in the traditional sense, anyway."

Ace took another slow look around the arena, contemplating on Braze's earlier comment about the Force having led him here. Tic gave a soft chirp from beside him, the little droid's lens flickering up toward Braze. Ace glanced down, then back up, his brow arched for a moment.

"You said you were a Battlemaster, right?" His tone was curious.

Battlemasters were traditionally adept in all forms of lightsaber combat, and since the Death Star, Ace had desired to change his dueling style. Refine his mastery of Form V, enhanced by the footwork of Form II. He'd spent the last few weeks heavily studying both variants of Form V, improvement was showing, but he had barely any knowledge of Makashi.

He wondered, was this what the Force drew him to? To Braze? The Echani seemed capable enough, judging by both his title and his demonstration of the Fifth Cadence.

"You know Makashi?" He asked, "Could you give me some starter tips?"

Braze ​

 

[Braze]

Tags: Acier Moonbound
​

Braze echoed the words with a faint tilt of his head. "Not in the traditional sense?" he repeated aloud, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. "Then in what sense, I wonder," he mused aloud, eyes narrowing slightly with interest.

"Well," he continued after a short pause, "I offer my services as a Battlemaster to those who come to study at the academy... Well... The New Jedi Order passed a sentence to Exile me from their dwindling numbers. The Head Master allows me to teach here despite that. " His tone was matter-of-fact.

Before he could ask what kind of training the young man sought, the answer came unprompted, something that elicited a spark of recognition.

"Oh, yes. The Way of the Ysalamari." His voice brightened with enthusiasm. "I know it quite well. Form Two happens to be my favorite. It is something of a specialty of mine really." He lifted his chin slightly, the faintest gleam of excitement in his pale eyes. "What you saw me practicing earlier works off a few principles that suit that form rather nicely. I could show you a few different exercises, depending on which aspect you'd like to focus on."

Even as he spoke, his mind was already racing ahead, running through an assortment of drills, sparring routines, and unconventional methods that might leave even a seasoned Padawan questioning his sanity by the end of training.

"I have found that perfection in fencing is not found in aggression, but in control, of blade, distance, and self. As the sword is a weapon, so too is the mind: Without intellect, the blade is but a clumsy stick. When you master control, you master the duel." He purred in an almost poetic recital of some pretty words as he reached in to his robe's inner pockets and produced a violet and silver Holocron.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Veridia - Veridian Jedi Temple

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace listened in silence as Braze spoke. First about exile, then the New Order, then fencing philosophy. The word exile lingered with him for a moment longer than it probably should have. He didn't ask why. But, Ace wondered what the reason could have been to get him exiled. As far as he knew, the Jedi were forgiving. To a fault, even.

What could he possibly have done to warrant exile?

When Braze confessed Form II being favorite, the faintest curve tugged at the corner of Ace's mouth. "Makes sense." He said. "You move like it was made for you."

His gaze dropped to the holocron in Braze's hand, its violet light spilling across the black sand. For a moment he wasn't sure if Braze was simply showing him the holocron, or wanted him to take it and study it.

"I've read what I can about Makashi but its been limited. I don't really run with Jedi. I've seen how Djem So leans into pressure. From my experience, Makashi seems to remove it."

He took a step closer, folding his arms, eyes still lingering on the holocron.

"I'm not looking for mastery." He added, tone even. "Just... I think the footwork, the precision? Can enhance my Form V. Make me a better fighter."

Tic chirped once, almost approvingly, and Ace gave a quiet exhale that might've been a laugh. He tilted his head slightly, brown eyes steady on the Echani. Braze's statements; about control, distance, and self - they resonated with him deeply. Echoing a similar sentiment to what Lorn Reingard had taught him, as well as Ace's own self-drawn conclusions.

His dark eyes filled with resolve as he continued to speak "What exercises can you show me for Form II's footwork?"

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Tags: Acier Moonbound ​

Braze inclined his head at Ace's resolve, the faint beginnings of a smile forming as he listened. There was something earnest in the request, something patient and grounded. It reminded him of a younger Padawan ...

"Your forms will only ever be as strong as your foundation," he said. His tone carried a soft certainty, like someone recalling a lesson learned long ago. "If you want to improve your footwork and precision, then we begin at the roots. Drills that refine balance, posture, weight distribution, and blade economy. You do not need Makashi to supplement good footwork, but Makashi forces you to understand it. That is why it strengthens everything else in that regard."

He stepped across the sand, planting his feet with measured care in each step.

"It is good to learn from all the forms," he continued. "It keeps you fluid. It keeps you honest. A duelist who is too comfortable in one style becomes predictable, and predictability kills fast. In essence you become a slave to your form.... but very well. Let us begin with step-work. Makashi is built upon economy of motion. No wasted movement, no needless flourish. Every step is chosen. Every pivot is intentional."

He tapped a toe into the sand, drawing out a line in front of him.

"I will show you three exercises. The first is the Makashi Line. A simple drill, but one that shapes everything else. You walk the line forward and backward, matching breath to motion. Heel to toe. Toe to heel. Your hips stay centered, your spine stays tall, and your shoulders remain relaxed. The blade follows the body, never the opposite."

Braze let out a small breath, "Once you can walk it as easily as you breathe, we add pivots. Then lateral shifts. Then circle-steps. After that, we introduce blade timing and pressure control."

He paused, watching the boy carefully, as if reading how the young man carried tension, how he set his weight, how he breathed.

"Precision is not a trick or a talent," Braze said. "It is the sum of a thousand small choices. And it begins with the very first step."

He motioned toward the sand as he moved to fetch not one or two training remotes but three.

"We will see what your foundation can become."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Veridia - Veridian Jedi Temple

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace listened without interrupting. He focus was both quiet and sharp. his eyes didn't move much but his attention did. He didn't nod, didn't hum in agreement, didn't perform interest. He just took it in.

Everything: the logic behind the footwork, the emphasis on foundation, the way Braze's steps matched the principles he was preaching. Only once Braze finished did Ace shift his weight slightly, like the gears had clicked into place and he was ready to put it to use.

Ace watched the line Braze drew, then the deliberate posture he settled into. The Echani moved like someone who had spent a lifetime shaving the excess off every step. Ace hadn't had that luxury. His movements were born from survival first; improvisation, instinct, and whatever kept him alive long enough to learn the next thing. Still, the way Braze framed it made sense. Roots before refinement.

Ace stepped forward and Tic trailed behind him with a low curious trill.

"Alright." Ace murmured, exhaling slowly. "Makashi Line."

He placed his heel against the drawn mark and pushed forward, heel-to-toe. The first few steps were stiff, not wrong, just… unpolished. His spine straightened naturally, but his left shoulder dipped just a hair, the habit of someone used to compensating for a prosthetic, even if the prosthetic wasn't in play.

Ace noticed it immediately. Paused. Reset. This time, his posture aligned better, breath syncing with the motion.

"Economy of motion." Ace repeated under his breath, more to himself than to Braze. "No wasted steps."

He reversed the line, toe-to-heel now. His body settled into it more naturally, his balance catching up to the instruction. Tic chirped softly, lens tracking each footfall like he was recording the process. When Ace finished the backward pass, he looked over at Braze.

"You weren't kidding." He said, voice quiet but edged with wry grit. "Feels simple until you actually try to do it right." He breathed in again. steadying his stance.

He nodded once. "Run me through the pivots."

There was no arrogance in it, no false modesty either, maybe a hint of impatience... or eagerness - depending on how you look at it. Just someone ready to dissect himself down to the smallest habits and rebuild from the ground up.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Tags: Acier Moonbound ​

"Not quite so fast," Braze said, his voice carrying a touch of amusement. "We still need to work the line under pressure."

He activated each remote with a slow, deliberate twist, then sent them drifting upward with a gentle toss in to the air. They hovered above Acier in a loose ring before lowering into a slow, testing orbit. Their photo receptors adjusted, focusing sharply on the boy's stance.

"You will deflect every bolt they send from all angles. You may move forward or back along the line, but not off it. Hold your ground."

The first shots came suddenly, thin streaks of light snapping towards Acier's shoulders. One dipped low and buzzed near his hip before darting skyward, almost playful in their ziipping rythms. Another remote drifted behind him and fired at ankle height, testing how well he judged the space he could not see nore reach imediately.

Braze moved in close and adjusted Acier's wrist with two fingers. "Not bad. You favor your side when you tense. Try not to. It telegraphs your next step."

He let a small subtle smile tug at his lips. "And for your sake, try not to let me tag you before they do."

His saber ignited with a cool blue glow iffernt in color this time. It had beem set to training strength, it shimmered in a safer, muted tone sounding differnt as well. He stepped into range, circling with slow, deliberate footwork. A light poke at Acier's guard. A soft swipe at his ribs. Nothing meant to hurt, only to crowd his awareness as the remotes continued their unpredictable patterns.

"This trains your mind to split focus without losing balance. You learn to make fast choices without fear guiding them."

A remote suddenly sputtered, dipped, then shot upward again at a sharper angle. Another, almost as if sensing a gap, drifted closer to Acier's blind spot and readied a follow up bolt.

Braze noticed it and he angled his saber downward. "Control your space... Do not let them dictate it." He continued circling, watching carefully to see how Acier handled the sudden shift, his stance, his breathing, and the pressure from all directions.

Braze shifted his grip and gave the faintest twist of his fingers. One remote accelerated. Just one. Its bolts came a little faster, a little sharper, forcing Ace to adjust his guard.

"If you never let anyone teach you, you risk only learning your mistakes."

A heartbeat later, a second remote picked up speed to match the first. Their angles no longer staggered… they overlapped. Ace now had to focus in two places at once.

Braze stepped closer, his blade slipping in with a tighter, faster probe toward Ace's shoulder.

"What stopped you from taking on a teacher?"

Then the third remote changed its rhythm entirely. It began striking on the off-beat, hitting where the other two left gaps. Three different timings with three different angles, and no predictable pattern.

Braze circled into Ace's blind spot, testing his awareness with a sharper, more deliberate thrust.

"You asked for Makashi. That is a duelist's art. Who are you hoping to defeat?"

A final shift. All three remotes synced for a single instant, firing in perfect unison before breaking apart again into chaos.

"And why?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Veridia - Veridian Jedi Temple

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

At first, Ace handled it. He ignited his lightsaber and blocked the opening bolts cleanly, blade snapping up with tight, efficient movements. His balance along the line was surprisingly steady, his footwork careful but workable.

He could do this. He was doing this.

But then the rhythm shifted. One remote sped up. Then another. Then Braze stepped closer. Ace blocked two shots cleanly, but the third grazed his thigh, and he swore under his breath. His stance tightened and his shoulders stiffened. He kept going, caught a high bolt, redirected the second, then the third buzzed past his hip harder than expected.

Braze corrected his wrist and Ace's patience frayed.

"I've got it." He muttered, not pulling away but clearly annoyed.

The remotes tightened their orbit and shots came at weirder angles. The timing became unpredictable, Ace's breathing picked up. His blade work stayed sharp, but his frustration began to bleed into his movements, too hard, too reactive, too emotional.

"This drill is… stupid." He grit out, barely catching another shot. "In a real fight I wouldn't be stuck walking a damn line. I'd actually be allowed to move."

A remote fired from behind. Ace twisted, a little too fast, and nearly slid off the line before catching himself causing Tic to chirp anxiously.

Now Braze was pressing in, opening with a probing strike. Ace met it, but it wasn't clean. His balance rocked. Then Braze asked what had stopped him from taking on a teacher.

Ace's jaw tightened and a bolt hammered his back, knocking him forward. He caught himself but nearly stepped out of the line again.

"I had a teacher." Ace snapped. "And she's gone." There was no sadness in his tone, nor vulnerability, just raw frustration.

Then another bolt hit him in the ribs, he grunted, breath stuttering. Then Braze's next question came. Ace's parry went too wide and a remote clipped his shoulder.

His voice cracked open, not anger at Braze, but anger at the memory: "Someone who knew how to read me."

Ravoch. He'd broken him down piece by piece, exploited the gaps in his footwork, his timing, his guard - then took his arm. Now he needed to fix it.

Another bolt sizzled toward his hip. Ace caught it, barely, blade shaking, and Braze pressed harder:

"And why?" He said.

That one finally cut through the noise as the remotes fired in unison. Ace blocked one, but he other two nailed him, chest and shoulder, sending him stumbling before falling.

When he finally answered, it wasn't controlled or heroic. It was honest.

"Because he figured me out." Ace's voice shook with frustration. "And I'm never letting that happen again."

Tic whirred in a sympathetic manner. Ace rose to his feet, balls clenched and glared down at the shorter man.

"This was karkin' stupid. What even was the point of that drill!" He exclaimed. "It's unreal-kriffin'-listic! You're full of it! What kinda Battlemaster imposes impossible scenarios on--" He stopped himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Was this a joke? Was Braze trying to make a fool of him? How was this even fair? Restricting his movements while defending against not only three training remotes, but some guy also trying to hit you from stupid angles.

He'd fought a Sith Lord, with a room full of Stormtroopers trying to kill him. He'd survived that. This? It felt like he was designed to fail.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Tags: Acier Moonbound
​

Braze offered a gentle smile as he let the youth voice his frustrations. It was perhaps an annoying sight to see him smirking like that, almost smug with that stupid little grin just barely visible. He was not truthfully laughing at the boy or making fun at his expense, yet he knew exactly what he was doing. All of this was designed to be just irritating enough to bother him, deliberately frustrating without ever crossing the line into cruelty. This was mild compared to what Braze could really dish out, and he knew to be careful with new students. Too much too soon only broke people. Just enough pushed them.

With a casual flick of his fingers he signaled the remotes to pause, granting a brief recess in the exercise.

"Oh...? You think you would never be in such a situation in a real fight huh?"

Braze tilted his head slightly, expression sharpening with a soft challenge.

"Picture this for me. You are fighting on a narrow catwalk inside some rusted factory. The air tastes like burning metal. The whole place is shaking itself apart. Below you there is a vat the size of a lake, full of bubbling green acid that spits steam every time a drop hits the surface."

He lifted a hand sweeping outwards to describe how bit the vat was almost as if sketching the scene in the air.

"Half the walkway gives out under your feet with screeching metal. You drop and fall as the walk ways gives out from beneath you. Your boots slam into the last remaining tether of feasible foot hold; a singular bit of metal railing jutting outwards, and now you are hanging there with one hand. Your saber is somewhere above you. Sparks fall past your face like angry fireflies. And at the far end of the beam your enemy stands there with perfect footing, blade ready, staring down at you. Flanked by a handful of lackies with blasters all ready to take pot shots at you like a fish in a barrel. He will not wait politely for you to climb up. He will not offer you a better position. He will cut until you fall."

Braze lowered his hand again, eyes locking with the student's.

"Tell me again how unlikely these situations really are? Because the galaxy loves to prove us wrong." He stated having adopted a deadly serious tone.

"I can assure you that even if the odds feel unlikely, you train for every possible scenario. And I do mean every. An enemy will not care what is fair. They will not care about timing, honor, or your comfort. They will strike where they can and take advantage of you at every turn. We do not rise to our expectations, we fall to the level of our training. Your opponents will not be gentle. They will not show mercy. They will exploit every mistake without hesitation and brutally twist their advantage and laugh in your face as they do it."

Braze stepped a little closer, voice low and steady as he illustrated his point.

"Anyone who believes defeat is certain will be defeated. You cannot rely on the world to be fair or right or just. You must refine your skills with the understanding that an enemy will take any and every advantage they can. You cannot predict what life will throw at you, but you can prepare to face high stress scenarios now. It is better to sweat on the mat than to bleed in battle."

He took a heavy breath letting it out slowly and giving the student a brief reprieve form his lecture. He stepped around him slowly twirling his saber in a slow flourish.

"Come now. If you do not wish to drill, then engage me instead. Experience can only be gained from action." Braze circled around him with slow, steady steps, the soft scrape of his boots marking the rhythm. He raised his saber and leveled the tip toward the youth, posture relaxed but unmistakably ready.

"I will not move from this spot. Come on. Strike however you see fit." Braze planted his feet, posture rooted and steady, not a hint of retreat in his stance. "I am not giving up ground. If you want to break my guard, you must take it from me."

He was certainly talkative as he continue his soft worded lectures even if Acier sought to attack him.

"I trust you understand that revenge is not the way of the Jedi. Anger feels powerful, but it blinds you. It narrows your world until all you can see is the hurt. Your enemy wants you angry because it makes you predictable and sloppy. Do not hand them that victory." He studied the youth's face for a moment before continuing. "So tell me. What is it you want? Justice, or retribution? One frees you. The other chains your fate to the very thing you despise."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Veridia - Veridian Jedi Temple

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace stood there, jaw tight, shoulders rising and falling with the aftermath of the drill. He let Braze finish, all of it, then exhaled sharply through his nose. His initial frustration had extinguished, now replaced with calm focus.

"I know real fights aren't fair." His voice wasn't loud. It was flat. Controlled. The kind of calm you only earn by surviving the things he had.

"You don't need to lecture me about collapsing catwalks or enemies who don't wait their turn. I've lived that." He took a step forward, eyes locked on Braze. "Most of my training wasn't even training. It was staying alive long enough to learn something from it."

He didn't list names like he was bragging. He just spoke. Matter-of-fact.

"I learned footwork from a Jedi who vanished before she could finish teaching me. Learned timing from sparring people way above my weight class. Fought a Sith Lord who tried to fry me from three angles at once. Survived MagnaGuards, bounty hunters, animals that wanted to eat me, stormtroopers firing blind in smoke--"

His throat tightened for half a beat.

"And yeah. I fought someone who read me like a holobook and took my arm for it."

He let that hang there. Not ashamed. Just real.

"So trust me, I get unpredictability. I get pressure. I get chaos." His gaze cut slightly to the remotes. "What I don't get is drills that pretend to be 'realistic' while locking down your movement and expecting perfection anyway."

He rolled his shoulders once, loosening the tension that had coiled there.

"I'm not some ignorant Padawan who's never experienced live combat ever."

He didn't demand respect, but Braze needed to know that he wasn't dealing with some kid wet behind the ears. Ace came here to learn, yes, and was ready, willing and able to listen - but not to be made a fool of.

With that, Ace reignited his lightsaber. Braze wanted a clean spar? Fine. The ashen-haired rebel shifted into a ready stance, reflecting his developed Form V technique. It wasn't angry, nor wild, just centered.

The tension from earlier bled off his posture like sand slipping from stone. What remained was calm, the kind forged by live fire. His lightsaber rose into a high guard, not the dominating hammerblow of his old Djem So, but a refined, trimmed-down variation shaped by weeks of study. Form V with the beginnings of Makashi discipline tucked into its bones.

"I'm not fighting for revenge or justice. I'm fighting to be better." He answered, correcting Braze's earlier assumption.

When he struck, it wasn't wild power. It was pressure. A downward diagonal meant not to overpower, but to test Braze's structure. Ace didn't let the blade stay in contact long; he disengaged immediately, pivoting his hips and stepping off-line to angle a second strike toward Braze's elbow: sharp, economical, almost clinical.

Then another step forward. Then another. Each movement small but suffocating, with the goal of denying Braze space without ever chasing recklessly.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Tags: Acier Moonbound ​

He did not interrupt when Ace spoke of his trials and tribulations, instead choosing to absorb every last word he spoke. His expression shifted, almost imperceptibly, as the teasing edge faded out of his pale green eyes, leaving something softer in its place.

Drills like that were not meant to be realistic. They were meant to be unforgiving in very specific ways. A line on the ground certainly wasn't the end-all be-all of a battlefield. It served as a magnifying glass. It showed every flaw in one's foundation that the chaos of battle would otherwise hide. And Braze studied well, drinking in information about the youth's motion.

Perhaps a more kinetic example was called for. Being Echani, he allowed his movements to speak where words would have fallen short.

As the boy tried to deny space by stepping in, Braze knew exactly how to display that Makashi was all about owning the range. He cut the distance in the opposite direction. Instead of yielding to pressure, instead of being shoved back and giving ground, he stepped inside Acier's strike.

His motion was small, almost elegant. A slight turn of the heel, a soft rotation through the hips, and then a narrow lunge that met the attack at its source. Braze's blade glided along Ace's with only the faintest contact, barely a whisper of guiding pressure that robbed the strike of its structure without ever clashing against it.

As Ace disengaged, stepping off-line to angle a second strike toward Braze's elbow, Braze's front foot pivoted on the ball, tracing a tight half-circle in the sand. That tiny shift stole the angle Ace needed before the younger fighter realized it was gone. At the same time, Braze's wrist turned, catching Ace's blade on the inside of the approach with a smooth circular parry, offering just enough guiding pressure to let Ace's momentum betray him.

Ace pressed forward again, one step, then another, tightening his advance, trying to smother Braze's space.

Braze didn't fight the pressure, but he didn't retreat either. His back foot slid through a small crescent behind him, a half-moon traced lightly in the sand. As Acier stepped in, Braze parried the blow across his front with a soft, guiding touch, rotating around the boy's weak side as the follow-through of the strike carried Acier forward into empty space, seemingly chasing a target that was no longer where he expected it to be.

Braze had slipped past him entirely. By the time the boy's advance had carried him forward, Braze stood calmly at his flank, then behind him, blade held in a relaxed, middle guard.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Veridia - Veridian Jedi Temple

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace didn't mistake what Braze just did. He recognized the finesse in it, the soft contact, the perfect angle theft, the weightless little pivots Makashi was built on. None of that was lost on him.

When Braze slipped behind him, Ace didn't chase, didn't overcorrect, didn't stumble into empty space a second time. He simply turned and reset his centerline, and the stance he reset into was the same one he'd opened with: Right foot forward. Rear hand coiled in. Shoulders angled.

Southpaw. The stance that threw orthodox duelists off just enough to matter.

Ace's lightsaber rose again, not in a clean Makashi guard, but with a slight inward tilt he didn't even realize he'd picked up. Something instinctive. Something shaped by Ravoch and studying duelists who carved people apart with precision.

He was still learning. Never pretending otherwise. He stepped in again, but cleaner this time. He didn't give Braze the easy outside line. Didn't feed the same momentum. Didn't throw himself into a predictable advance. Each step was smaller, more thoughtful, southpaw angles folding naturally into his pressure rather than trying to mimic anyone else's form.

His first strike came in tight. It wasn't Makashi but it wasn't textbook Form V either, but a compact, probing test of Braze's guard. Something Ace didn't consciously think about, guided by instinct rather than instruction.

Ace pressed forward again, blade close, stance solid but not rigid. Then another step, another angle to nudge Braze off his perfect rhythm.

His pressure stayed measured. Adaptive. It wasn't perfect, not yet. But it was present. Ace's lead foot angled just slightly outward, sliding into a line that most orthodox duelists didn't naturally account for. It wasn't aggressive, just… inconvenient. Awkward. For them.

It meant that the angle Braze had used before, the elegant inside slip that let him glide past Ace's guard, now ran straight into the wrong line of approach. If Braze tried to pivot the same way again, he'd meet Ace's lead shoulder instead of open space.

Ace didn't swing harder to force the issue. He didn't lunge or overcommit. But he did keep coming. A steady, calculated advance, the kind that didn't leave gaps, didn't rush, didn't break its own structure. His blade drifted forward just enough to occupy the line, a quiet wedge of pressure.

Southpaw geometry tightening the lane. Footwork shaving off Braze's favorite drift paths. Ace's body language stripped down to something simple and dangerous: Forward pressure, but disciplined.

His eyes stayed locked on Braze's centerline, measuring each micro-shift, each adjustment, each breath. The calm inevitability of a fighter who keeps stepping in until you solve him.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Tags: Acier Moonbound ​

Acier had chosen to keep his strong arm back and his empty hand forward. Against a sure-footed, quick opponent like Braze, it was a very foolish choice. So much so that perhaps it was even an attempt at a fool's guard. Perhaps the hand was meant as bait, but Braze did not seem to worry or dwell on the odd stance's details. By distance alone, Acier had to telegraph his attacks from far too far away. Or at least it did not look like Braze was bothered. His thoughts always raced, tangential in every direction, snapping into decisive action with unsettling speed. Braze's goal here was to teach Acier as his temporary student. He was not going to yield ground, nor would he make it easy for him.

He arced his blade down in a simple low-line cut toward Acier's front leg, looking to snap a light tap across knee, thigh, or calf, then reversed the motion at once toward the back of that extended hand, mindful that Acier might be carrying a dual phase saber. If Acier was going to offer him that much profile and that much space, Braze was going to take it.

As Acier came in to test his guard, Braze met the strike without retreating. His saber rose, catching Acier's blade in a tight bind from below. For a heartbeat the young man's strength pressed down against his, then Braze let that pressure roll along his blade instead of fighting it.

He slid his own saber down the length of the bind toward the emitter of Acier's blade, stepping in at the same time. Weight shifted forward, left foot claiming the space between them. His wrists turned, elbow lifting, and the circular guard of his hilt climbed past the crossed blades with a sharp drive from his elbow aimed for the center of Acier's throat. At the same instant his right hand reached out to grasp Acier's left wrist. Its effect was a controlled jam that said very clearly where the opening was.