Steel Hands [Galactic Alliance]

[Marcus Itera]

Steel Hands​

Infantry Training Center, Sullust​

Two Teras Kasi masters duel in the outskirts.​

Long ago, Marcus had thought long and hard about what he wanted to do in life. He couldn't just be some grunt, some guy who gets paid to be shot at, for his entire life. Granted, that was exactly what he signed up to do when the Galactic Republic came a-knocking. The Sith were his enemies and the Jedi were supposed to be their protectors but the young man knew that they would never be able to do it all on their own. They needed strong men, men of courage, men with bravery and hope in their hearts.

He was one of those young men who enlisted in the earliest days of the war against the Sith. He had grown up in a family with a long line of service to a nation they loved, and he was destined to do the same. But dying for the Republic wasn't what he wanted at all - he wanted to live for it. To come home every day and see his wife and kids, pay taxes like a good citizen should, and teach people how to defend themselves.

Yes, that was what he wanted to do after his service. To teach the masses that self-reliance was not something of the past, that every soul in this galaxy was capable of safeguarding themselves.

Teras Kasi ran in the family too. The art was passed down generation after generation, the earliest practitioners dating back to the Old Republic era when his ancestors stumbled across the art. Ever since then, the art has been in the blood of his lineage, and will continue to be for generations to come.

-----​

​

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?"

"Of course I am. Didn't I tell you this was what I dreamt of doing during my days in the trenches?"

She paused. "You did. I was just wondering if you think you're ready to do this so early in the game."

"Men and women depend upon me everyday. Teaching them the way of the Steel Hands will be a little weight off my shoulders in the field," he started, "And they'll be one step closer to finding their true selves."

The holographic woman processed his words slower than usual. After a moment, a slow smile crept across her features as she looked the man before her from head to toe. "Well don't you look good in that tunic. All long, tall, and handsome."

Marcus snorted and waved her off, glancing at throes of infantrymen practicing combatives in the adjacent cordons. "Our students should be arriving very soon. They weren't hand selected, I put up an open training message up the other day when someone asked me if I ever taught people those 'ninja' skills. I want you to run each of them through your systems as they arrive." He turned to fiddle with the holographic projector system. "I don't want any psychos or secret agents learning my life's secrets."

The artificial woman chuckled and nodded in affirmation. "Let me know how I can help whenever you need it."

"I'll be needing it alright."


[member="Meeristali Peradun"], [member="Kiyron"], [member="Audren Sykes"], [member="Qyren Leret"], [member="Julius Sedaire"], [member="Graaf Zalec"], [member="Sven Tolen"], [member="Tachon Zur-Ksi"]

 

[EmKay]

Spoiler

[OOC NOTE: I'll be playing this as thought it happened after Bestine, including plot points I haven't written out yet -- but I will as I can post more. If that's an issue, feel free to PM me.]

[member="Marcus Foster"]

Tachon was some ways away from the training ground. He had never truly had the chance to explore Sullust, so he took the long, winding route from headquaters to the designated area. He had a lot to think about lately, too. Ever since what happened at Bestine IV, he had been in a state of internal strife. That was part of why he signed up to learn this martial art. As an Iridonian, combat was his lifeblood. With his own conditioning, he was able to control his bloodlust. Now he was merely more able to let go of the rest of himself. Indeed, Tachon had come into touch with his Force sensitivity. Now he was going to find ways to train; but first, he wanted to find his solace in combat and learning. The two things that had and would continue to rule his life.

He climbed over a boulder of basalt and stared out at the encampment. Put off to the side from everything else, isolated for the warriors. He liked that, even if it was decorated with the banners of the DreadGuard, whom he did not understand. All he knew was they were great soldiers. Perhaps he would know more as time went on. For now, he had a class to attend. He slid down the rock and approached the training area at a jog. As he neared what he believed to be an encampment from afar, it turned out to be a military base. Almost every necessity was here, and following his datapad led him to the Training Centre. He stepped through the automated door, then wandered the halls until he found the room he needed to be at.

"Hello?" he called out, unable to see or feel this Marcus.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Teras Kasi... The Steel Fists... It wasn't, per se, a Jedi art really. And in point of fact, the Corellian born Knight likely drew more than a few looks as he walked into the designated area. While he hardly came in traditional robes of the Order, there was little doubt to what the prominently displayed lightsaber at his hip meant for those astute enough to see it. Or the one bolt pistol hanging from his opposite hip... Or the custom MP1 he had recently commissioned hid in the small of his back... Otherwise, he was dressed like any other plain jane spacer might have really, second-class blood stripes marking him out as someone at least not to be dismissed out of hand.

Smiling, the Jedi Knight took up place on the edge of class, and as was his want, sat down cross legged against a jagged piece of basalt, closing eyes that never quite seemed to cease laughing, and meditating. It was perhaps incongruous in his spacers clothing, but it was the way he felt most comfortable, and indeed he sought it often these days. Crossing his legs, one on top of the other, he laid the backs of his hands palm up, as if clasping something in them, and his saber floated out to spin in front of him. Swiftly the device began to disassemble, each part remaining in the air as he waited. It was an exercise in patience, and an exercise in serenity and built a knowledge of the weapon. Plus it let him know he really needed a new saber, as the one at current was a hastily made piece from the Outer Rim, and was quickly falling into disrepair despite his efforts.

[member="Marcus Foster"]

 

[Meeristali Peradun]

Julius wasn't the only one in need of a new 'sabre, but unlike the other Knight as the large Felacatian entered the area, there was not a single hilt to be found anywhere on his person, nor any lick of indicative cloth; he hadn't worn robes since he'd begun spending a fair amount of time in Mandalorian territory, and going back to them wasn't in the cards with the ops he found himself involved in on a regular basis. That he was out of armour was something of a miracle - he'd begun to feel as if he was living in it. Today, inhabiting clothes that suggested off-duty military was more true to the breadth of his experiences than the robes ever were, and were a breath of fresh air to his body. The overalls and cap that reminded him of [member="Ordo"] every time he looked at them stayed in his quarters today, though.

"Julius," he said in greeting, as he came alongside where the younger knight sat while using a deft telekinetic touch to disassemble and reassemble his 'sabre that was woeful in its need for replacement. Then a thought occurred to him, "looks like I'm not the only one that needs to put together a new one."

He crossed his arms, and set about looking over each body that was in the area, so far. Picking out what he could without the benefit of knowing them or having a conversation, a derivative skill of stalking prey or observing the enemy to learn his habits.

"I've had it in mind to do something about that, in the near future. Get the crystals, so on and so forth. Drag Jaren along; I don't doubt that he'll be more than willing. Thoughts?"

[member="Marcus Foster"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Ryan]

The Corellian Amaran wasn't that far behind the human Corellian, [member="Julius Sedaire"] . If the sith had it their way, their culture would be a non existent one. Sven would give his fellow Corellian a respectful nod as he entered the area and would find himself off to the side by himself. He wore simple black muscle shirt that exposed his athletic chiseled frame. He also wore old black trousers held up by a simple belt and no boots. He was bare foot.... well bare pawed as he entered walking digitigrade upon his toes like all amaran do.

Sven was no stranger to hand to hand combat, his years in CorSec academy and on the Tact team he become adept to martial arts and more specifically the discipline of K'tara. He had also taken up shock boxing, more for a anger management and fitness regime but the same principles where there. Now he knew he was small and did not pack the same impact of power behind hits as the larger folk could produce, but he was smart and knew where to hit and to use his diminutive size and agility to advantage.

Though one could say they were hand to hand combat experts, the truth was you were always a student and that was why Sven was here. He needed a new challenge, a new edge and to keep his body and soul in proper order if he was to continue on as a warrior for the Galactic Alliance and hopefully one day avenge his homeworld with the blood of sith.

[member="Marcus Foster"]

 

[Audren Sykes]

It seemed like Audren was splitting his time between the Galactic Alliance and the Silver Sanctum Coalition almost equally. Which meant he really needed to find someone to teach him Force-based teleportation, he was racking up travel time. And he wasn't even getting miles from it, though he wasn't really paying for it either. Benefits of filling up the ship he'd stolen at the Temples rather than civilian spaceports.

Someone in the GA had offered an open Teras Kasi class. The Padawan had heard of the style, and good things about it. It wasn't only good for unarmed combat, claims were that this sort of course could improve visio-spatial abilities and reflexes at the very least. The Force did that too, but one day he might not have the Force and still need to defend himself. Besides, rumor was that this could help even Jedi. If that were the case, no doubt any martial art could do so, yet the rumors persisted with just this one.

The Sephi had done the basic hand-to-hand drills when first learning to fight, but not much else. He could give or take a punch or a kick, and know the proper form thereof, but ask him to escape an arm bar and he was more likely to break the arm. So this would come in useful. Apparently he wasn't the only one to think so, as when he arrived others were already there. A horned Zabrak, two humans, and a canine-looking being. The two humans and the canine he knew, he'd met them on Tantra and before. Julius Sedaire and Meeristali Peradun, and Sven Tolen. The Zabrak he didn't know.

Audren, like most of the others, wore clothes rather than robes. A pale blue shirt, forest-green overshirt, and brown pants made the ensemble, along with a standard utility belt. No lightsaber hung from the belt, just a long vibroknife. Going armed on Sullust was allowed, and a lightsaber could be highly encouraged, but today was one of those where the hilt simply felt off. It hearkened back to when it was a Dark Adept's blade despite the hours he'd spent pouring the light side of the Force into it. He had to get himself his own blade, this was getting ridiculous.

[member="Marcus Foster"] | [member="Tachon Zur-Ksi"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"] | [member="Meeristali Peradun"] | [member="Sven Tolen"]

 

[Grrwunhoooll Agaburry]

Steel hands? Who would want those? Wouldn't they be heavy and hard to use? The Karkarodon rubbed his back fin as he dragged himself the training class. When he served in the Military he learned a fair bit of hand to hand combat, Kinda. Does biting your enemy count? He grinned at the thought of taking a hunk of flesh out of an attacker. Would be a early dinner if such a tactic was allowed.

The Galactic Alliance knew him as Dr, Zalec and a doctor he was! Teras kasi was dangerous! People could get hurt! Or at least those were some of the excuses he told himself to get out and about more. His Office was fine but he was tired of seeing troopers with a spice addiction! Cant fix an addict by using more drugs. Graaf shook his head some.

Sooner he got the class the sooner he could get to work.

[member="Audren Sykes"]
[member="Sven Tolen"]
[member="Meeristali Peradun"]
[member="Julius Sedaire"]
[member="Tachon Zur-Ksi"]
[member="Marcus Foster"]

 

[Marcus Itera]

Many of the students arrived earlier than expected, so Marcus kept his distance for now. Jumping on them right away was never the best tactic when training a group of personnel at once. The first arrivals were met with a simple nod of the head as they entered and questioned whether this was the correct facility or not. Miranda was busy running each face through the dossier database while her Dreadguard companion busied himself with completing the finishing dozens on a dozen droids that lined the room.

It didn't take much longer for more and more people to show up, though not everyone who'd marked their attendance had shown up just yet. Be that as it may, he was absolutely not going to postpone or hamper the training of the diligent individuals who'd already came. Some of them carried themselves with the ramrod posture of a soldier, others appeared a bit skeptic or unsure, and even more simply seemed like non-combat personnel.

He could work with that.

The Sergeant Major strode forward into the front-center of the room. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. If you are not here for the Teras Kasi training session, please leave the room now and make your way to the front desk." Nobody moved. "Good, good. My name is Sergeant Major Marcus Foster; Third Battalion, 42nd Infantry Regiment, Dreadguard."

Miranda materialized behind him.

"Before we begin, let me lay down some ground rules. The first and foremost is respect. I am not your master, I am not your boss, and I am not your sensei, I am your Sergeant Major. This is Miranda," he gestured towards her and she offered a polite nod, "You will address her with 'Miss Miranda' and any backtalk to her will have you taking your last breath on this planet.

"Do I make myself clear?"

They all nodded.

Marcus shifted and cocked his head towards the projector and Miranda moved to dim the lights. "Find yourself some real estate and have a seat. We're gonna have ourselves a little history lesson to start all of this off."

[member="Tachon Zur-Ksi"], [member="Julius Sedaire"], [member="Meeristali Peradun"], [member="Sven Tolen"], [member="Audren Sykes"], [member="Graaf Zalec"]

 

[Djorn Bline]

Before he was deployed for duty during the reign of the Confederacy he received the quality training from Mandalorian officers that were hired by his creator, [member=Isley Verd]. The Mandalorians taught him and his brethren everything they knew from using a firearm, to martial arts. The clone thought that he was taught everything during his training stage on Kamino from the most fiercest warriors in the Galaxy. He was wrong about that when first stepped foot on the first battle he was shipped off to. Training only gave Canal the fundamentals of combat, but fighting in an actual skirmish was when Canal completed his training. The soldier still had much to learn as the tactics he observed from both his allies and enemies inspired him to engineer his way to adapt when it came to battle.

A reason why he was here at the Infantry Training Center on Sullust.

Did he knew anything of Teras Kasi? No, it wasn't a skill he any knowledge of but it was something he would enjoy to learn because of his love in martial arts. When the Clone stepped in the facility he saw a fellow Dreadguard with a companion who was given a nod from Canal, and many other students taking a seat on the benches. Following the majority of the crowd Canal took a random, unoccupied seat in front of the instructor. All he could do now was wait until the man began his lecture.

[member="Marcus Foster"] [member="Graaf Zalec"] [member="Audren Sykes"] [member="Sven Tolen"] [member="Meeristali Peradun"] [member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Tachon Zur-Ksi"]

 

[Grrwunhoooll Agaburry]

Entering the training room Graaf held a grin revealing his sharp teeth as he looked around at everyone. He brought his Medpak with him and wore His doctoral clothes which consisted of white ribbed pants, White tank top, Black Medical belt and a white vest with the Combat Medic symbol on the back. Was nothing special. Making his way to the front the Karkarodon took a stimulant from his medical belt and injected the substance into his neck area. Physical Enhancement stims. Just a little boost to keep himself awake. Shaking his head Graaf sat next to [member="Canal"] in the front row.

Keeping a smile Graaf extended his webbed hand to the man next to him for a handshake.

[member="Marcus Foster"] the Sergeant Major. Was a interesting character in Dr. Zalecs eyes, brought back memories of when the karkarodon was in the navy ranks on Karkis.

[member="Audren Sykes"]
[member="Sven Tolen"]
[member="Meeristali Peradun"]
[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Kiyron]

Kiyron strode in, pausing to analyze the people in the room, but he shifted slightly as his mind unhinged. Scenes from before flashed through his mind. Other soldiers, other trainings, other planets. He just managed to catch the last section of the comment and he let himself slink to the ground, forcing his face blank as others filtered in, including the new field surgeon, the carnivore one. It was certainly a strange combination to see. But that was not his concern at the moment.

Breathing was important. In and out. It soothed the muscles and calmed the mind. He would focus on that for the moment, until something happened to lead to something else.

 

[Audren Sykes]

More and more people kept showing up. Apparently this class was going to be a popular one. Some held themselves like soldiers, others were more nondescript, and one was even taking off the work shirt identifying him as janitorial staff. An eclectic combination, all here to learn. A few minutes after the being who looked like one heck of a predator - but who was wearing a combat medic's uniform - arrived, one of the soldier-looking guys moved to the front of the room.

As it turned out, this man was one Sergeant Major Marcus Foster, the man who was going to lead the training. Dreadguard. Audren hadn't worked with any of them yet, but had heard they were present at Fondor and...subdued...some pirates. Something with a space station, maybe a shipyard. Either way, rumor was they were brutally efficient. To boot, it was also said that they were Force-dead. A quick viewing through the Force, a blink of an eye really, confirmed that there were no threads or cables of the Force touching Foster. Without warning, a hologram materialized next to the man, one showing a female image. Interestingly, he referred to her as 'Miranda', maybe a personal AI of some kind?

From what the man said, this wouldn't be run like a martial arts class or a game, this would be a full-on, military-style training session. Keep up or get out, or some form of the idea. Luckily, the Padawan had done some training with the gravity rooms back on Voss like Sarianna had suggested; he should be able to keep up for some time before having to draw on the Force itself. Hopefully. It all depended on how the class was run, et cetera. They were starting with a history lesson, probably the origins of the art. That was good, that meant the Sergeant Major would likely be thorough in his teaching.

Another rumor - the one that made Audren wonder - was that Dreadguard didn't like Jedi for whatever reason, but they hated Sith more. They'd allied with the Galactic Alliance, who had a fairly prevalent sub-group of Jedi and to whom the open invitation for training had been made. Speaking for himself, the Sephi didn't have any issues with the idea of Dreadguard; who better to teach them a combat art than a master of it who didn't have the Force? He could always incorporate a Force element later, but he could never learn it from a non-Forcer perspective if he started from a Jedi one. He resolved to use the Force as sparingly as possible in the training as he took a seat.


[member="Marcus Foster"] | [member="Tachon Zur-Ksi"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"] | [member="Meeristali Peradun"] | [member="Sven Tolen"] | [member="Graaf Zalec"] | [member=Canal] | [member=Kiyron]

 

[Qyren Leret]

The Alliance facility on Sullust was so much larger than she had expected. It took her time to find someone who could give her the appropriate directions to the Training Center, but she arrived just in time for Sergeant Foster's orders for everyone to find a seat. Qyren cast a quick smile in Miranda's direction, already familiar with the existence of the AI, and turned her attention to the stern man who would be leading their combat class. She hadn't seen him fully out of armor before. It was a change, certainly, though he appeared no less intimidating for it. Although the open invitation had specified no specific attire or weapons, her lightsaber hung heavily at her hip, and Qyren had opted for clothes which were primarily form fitting to lessen their interference with her movements. Her clothes were finally her own, which was also a relief. She had spent a long while in Alliance-borrowed gear following her decision to stay with them rather than returning to her Master.

Qyren was the first to admit that she had gaps in her learning; she was still technically a padawan, and every new bit of knowledge was welcome to her. She was already training with [member="Rook"] to improve her non-Jedi combat skills, and this class-- and any subsequent lessons the Dreadguard was willing to offer her-- would help build on those basic skills. It also gave her the opportunity to face off against new opponents who wouldn't have the same tells as her current partner.

[member="Marcus Foster"]

 

[EmKay]

Tachon's head swung around while he watched the others file in and find little niches to sit in. He didn't know any of them. In his time being present for the conquest of many worlds, the Iridonian managed to find the locations where none of these individuals were at. It was just as well, he figured he might meet some new faces. Part of him loathed the thought, another was interested in meeting others. Either way, he pulled himself off to the side and vaguely listened to chatter about lightsabers.

That was about the time when [member="Marcus Foster"] showed himself. Even though his rough-edged self-teaching left a lot to be desired, Tachon found it vaguely unnerving that he couldn't sense anything to do with the man. There was another that rubbed him the same way here, and it dredged up memories of talk about the Dread Guard. Force dead, immune to such things altogether. It was an interesting notion, and he mused testing it someday.

At the prompt to find a seat, Tachon found his way to a bench and waited this 'history lesson'.

 

[EmKay]

[OOC: Is this thread dead? [member="Marcus Itera"]]