The Parliament
Armed with Constant Gardener
Wearing Hoodlum's Leathers
Objective: Duel
Sigyn Vanir
The scarred cyborg awaited her duelist in the fresh, open air of Kashyyyk and just outside a large circle of stones for where their match would take place. It was a sunny, bright day. Her caretaker Moya was away managing one of many clients she had acquired recently and that had left Laertia with a desire to test herself.
She knew all seven styles, including the ones made by Luke Skywalker for his praxeum. She was a master of some of them. But unlike other Jedi, most of her sword instruction did not come in the rote, controlled settings of a Jedi Temple.
Laertia as a Jedi Shadow had learned on the go. On the job. She had been taught the basics, and learned the rest by fighting her enemies for the most part.
Her job had been to kill. Period. Win the war against the Dark Side through sheer attrition.
(Cutaway of John Rambo firing light machine gun into the air while yelling insanely.)
She had cut down many Sith. But it was rare to duel Jedi. Especially traditionals. She had never walked in the circles of the traditionalists. A perpetual outsider with lethal training.
But she wanted to test. She wanted to be a good Jedi, so she had to see how they fought.
Laertia, clad in a spiky biker clothing ensemble, had set out a tray and an outside folding picnic table for them to have tea before and after the match, the tombstone pale woman going out of her way to make it as comfy as possible so they would be of clear mind and sound heart before the fight.
When Sigyn at last showed, Laertia was already seated, and bid her to join her for a cup of green tea.
"Wellcomez..." she spoke, suppressing her raging embarrassment at her speach impediment. "Myy naymez Laerta. I'mz a Jedi Shaadowz. I'mmz verry pleezed yoo cudz joynez mee tuhdayz. How'z arr yooz? Wudz yoo cayrez fer tee?" she asked quietly and politely of Sigyn, whose fierce red hair reminded her of Syd.
"It'z green tee. I allwayz fyndz itt relaxxingz..."
Wearing Hoodlum's Leathers
Objective: Duel

The scarred cyborg awaited her duelist in the fresh, open air of Kashyyyk and just outside a large circle of stones for where their match would take place. It was a sunny, bright day. Her caretaker Moya was away managing one of many clients she had acquired recently and that had left Laertia with a desire to test herself.
She knew all seven styles, including the ones made by Luke Skywalker for his praxeum. She was a master of some of them. But unlike other Jedi, most of her sword instruction did not come in the rote, controlled settings of a Jedi Temple.
Laertia as a Jedi Shadow had learned on the go. On the job. She had been taught the basics, and learned the rest by fighting her enemies for the most part.
Her job had been to kill. Period. Win the war against the Dark Side through sheer attrition.
(Cutaway of John Rambo firing light machine gun into the air while yelling insanely.)
She had cut down many Sith. But it was rare to duel Jedi. Especially traditionals. She had never walked in the circles of the traditionalists. A perpetual outsider with lethal training.
But she wanted to test. She wanted to be a good Jedi, so she had to see how they fought.
Laertia, clad in a spiky biker clothing ensemble, had set out a tray and an outside folding picnic table for them to have tea before and after the match, the tombstone pale woman going out of her way to make it as comfy as possible so they would be of clear mind and sound heart before the fight.
When Sigyn at last showed, Laertia was already seated, and bid her to join her for a cup of green tea.
"Wellcomez..." she spoke, suppressing her raging embarrassment at her speach impediment. "Myy naymez Laerta. I'mz a Jedi Shaadowz. I'mmz verry pleezed yoo cudz joynez mee tuhdayz. How'z arr yooz? Wudz yoo cayrez fer tee?" she asked quietly and politely of Sigyn, whose fierce red hair reminded her of Syd.
"It'z green tee. I allwayz fyndz itt relaxxingz..."