The Ropes(Aimone)

[Varus Shatterstar]

There was something about old expressions that seemed to be immortal, from what Varus had seen. Timeless things said once upon a time by someone who likely didn't get credit, and when their names were forgotten, that one nugget of wisdom they had in their however many years was the one thing to stick. A perfect something left behind by an unknown source that would forever remain a mystery.

"It's time to learn the ropes.", Varus said, smirking at himself at how corny that sounded as he stood out in the open courtyard at 6:00 AM, the Sun just barely creeping over the hills as if it was about as tired as the many Jedi still asleep. That didn't bother him one bit, though, because if Aimone was still asleep he'd be searching out the furry little creature so that he could hang him from his tail out of a window until he was fully awake. That, he was sure, would get his attention, but something told Varus that he wouldn't need to resort to such harshness with this Padawan. He seemed the early to rise type, which would do him a lot of good if he intended to be successful while training under someone like Varus.

There he waited, glancing down at the datapad that he pulled from his pocket. "6:01... Hmmm...", he whispered to himself. He'd told the Padawan to be there no later than six that morning, but he figured that getting up that early would take a little getting used to. For the sake of day one jitters, Varus inwardly decided to give the academically gifted Jedi until 6:05 before he started hunting.

[member="Aimone"]

 

[Zenitha Chuma]

Crosslegged under the double-arches of the Ancient History section, the air around the Selonian was still. The only sound was the distant machinations of the filing droids as they went about their duties, returning holobooks and physical tomes left unattended to their shelf locations. The crisp, morning air outside had yet to filter into the Archives, which always seemed to have a musky scent of something old, and the Padawan breathed it in slowly, drawing in through the elongated snout that was his nose, rustling his long, thin whiskers as he exhaled.

Aimone's predilection for meditation was low. Abysmal, according to the teachers of his past. He found little relief in the involved ritual, one he felt was inadequate for the many values it was extolled to have. Those acts, of decision-making, analysis, or clarity of knowledge, could often be achieved by typical means, such as those found in the Jedi Archives. Aimone had often found the same sort of epiphany through research as many a wise master had claimed to reach through meditation. He little doubted their ultimate conclusion, instead the Selonian questioned whether subconscious methods ―which typically amounted to little more than stabs in the darkness― were truly superior.

Today, however, Aimone felt he had exhausted his regular means and methods. He had looked at the texts, compared his problems to that of a hundred Jedi Padawans before him. Tenubra Cirdi was put in a Padawan limbo while she underwent treatment for Mizra Syndrome. Ein-Ed Bonnaro was stranded on a world that was thought to be his grave for eleven years, finally apprenticed once he was rescued by a passing Jedi pair. Anileen Mara was forced to repeat several Youngling classes as part of her recovery from a training accident. These and many more instances were recorded within the annals of the Jedi Archives. Yet none provided the guidance which Aimone sought.

So it was that the Selonian sat beneath the arches of the Ancient History section, apropos of nothing, breathing in the dank, library air. It was a comforting scent, one that compelled the Jedi youth to relax. His purpose was clear today, a purpose for which the Padawan found utility in the act of meditation, though the outcome was among the very basics first taught to Younglings when learning how to meditate. While other Jedi sought the calm to achieve their primary tasks through meditation, for Aimone, the calm was his purpose.

It was a feat that staunchly eluded the furred Padawan in his efforts.

Whether from inexperience, or the burden of thought coursing through his mind, occupied by the events of the day prior and his newfound status as an apprentice, Aimone could not be certain. Running the steps over in his mind, the Padawan confirmed that he had done everything necessary. Everything necessary to achieve the meditative calm had been done, the requirements strictly adhered to, the process followed to the letter. Yet try as he might, Aimone found no calm within him, just a chaotic storm of uncertainties.

From far away, the Jedi Padawan heard a quiet click, a sound so easily dismissed by many occupants of the library. It was just another sound among many, though the relative quiet of the Archives allowed its distinction in a moment such as this one. A visitor to the library would have no context for the sound, but Aimone knew its source, the large chronometer in the central hall, an aging timepiece whose crystal display had the habit of clicking on the hour mark.

An exasperated sigh escaped his snout, and the Selonian stood, flexing his rear legs to stave off the soreness resulting from such a still posture. A glance to the nearby chronometer, a smaller cousin of the idiosyncratic piece in the main hall, displayed the time in clear numerals, informing the Padawan that it was 0600 local time. Some part of him noted that his attempt at meditation had taken the better part of three hours. A click sounded in his own mind, a mental construct that Aimone knew was a connection being made, and all at once a knot formed within his throat as the realization floated to the top of his thoughts.

Aimone bounded towards the exit, abandoning all pretense of care for the morning stillness. His movement drew the interest of the few eyes within the great library, none of which particularly bothered the young Jedi. Once beyond the Archives' threshold, he dropped to all fours, beginning a long, loping run to the courtyard. He barely blinked at the transition from stone hallways to grassy pathways, slowing only as he noticed a figure standing amidst the meticulous landscaping of the open courtyard. Padding towards the figure, his eyes finally confirmed what he already knew in his mind. As he approached his master, Aimone stood onto his hind legs, a position he found most Humanoids took comfort in, and bowed before the man once he was within a couple meters distance.

Hardly winded by the experience, possibly attributed to his racial attributes and not any sort of trained effort on his part, Aimone remained low as he offered, "My apologies, Master. I lost track of the time while," he paused for a moment before standing, almost ashamed at the consternation his face most undoubtedly displayed, "I attempted to meditate."

 

[Varus Shatterstar]

"I understand.", Varus told Aimone as he nodded to his late new apprentice. "It's your first day, and I would assume that your daily ritual changing like this is going to take a little getting used to.", he admitted as he squatted down and rested either of his elbows across his thighs so that they could be closer to eye level. When he did, he allowed a small, soft smile to be drawn across his youthful face as he said one last thing to Aimone before they got on with their day.

"Next time I expect you'll do better.", he said with confidence as he nodded his head at Aimone before raising back up to his full height again. He then turned away from Aimone, taking a step and then another as he glanced over his shoulder and asked. "Join me, would you?", knowing that they had a great deal to talk about before they got down to training.

As they started their walk through the courtyards, Varus didn't say anything right away. Instead he adjusted their direction so that they were heading for the gardens, which held many mazes of foliage that they could get lost in while Varus learned a bit more about his new apprentice. "Tell me...", he started to say, looking over to the furry Padawan. "...what kind of Jedi is it that you expect you'll become?"

[member="Aimone"]

 

[Zenitha Chuma]

"A Lore Keeper." The response was as automatic as a non-Jedi youngling being asked their preferred profession in the future. Around him, the greenery and carefully placed designs of colorful flowers went unnoticed as he passed, the Selonian's mind focused on the object of his passion. "I've been trainnning under Master Celynne for almost ninnne years," he remarked, adding, "I don't knnnow if I wannnt to do annnything else."

The library had always seemed like a natural extension of Aimone's being. For the past eight, nearly nine, years he had lived, breathed and existed solely for those bookended confines. Even before his formal training began, the Padawan had always considered the Archives his true home, even as they moved from Coruscant to Ossus. The location shift did nothing to break the Jedi youth's feelings of comfort within those hallowed halls.

What else could Aimone truly be? He boasted of paltry fighting skills, and recent discourse with his new Master had proven his worthlessness as a philosopher. His forepaws had nothing of the healing touch, just as it seemed he was ill suited for meditation. Yet his mind drank in knowledge like water, subsisted off it, and spat it back out when necessary. A life in the Jedi Archives had always seemed like the Padawan's future path.

Aimone's path had been obvious in his head until the Council had passed their judgement. He felt little in the way of animosity towards those wise masters, yet their words had torn him from a crystal clear path onto one muddied in confusion. The Padawan could hardly help but feel a certain frustration, and even a little grief, over the loss of such a promising future.

"I already knnnow what it means to be a Jedi," Aimone explained as a means of reassuring his Master. The lore and collective wisdom of the Order, as it was maintained by the Lore Keeper, was hardly the Human's penchant, and the Selonian had no illusions of expecting otherwise. His training, in that respect, was well advanced to the point of completion. He continued as a point of clarification, "I just nnneed practical experiennnce from you."

---

[member="Varus Shatterstar"]

 

[Varus Shatterstar]

"I see.", Varus said, well aware that his new apprentice had a preference for knowledge, but that wasn't all the young Knight sensed of his Padawan. In fact, he aimed to address just that on that very day, knowing that despite the intentions Aimone had for his future, he would have to be prepared for more than just reading and studying.

"Knowledge is power, is it not?", Varus asked as they passed through a path lined with rose bushes, each one in full bloom and filling the air with an incredible and unmistakable aroma. "It's partly why we as Jedi have so much to learn and so much to share with one another, as long as we're here.", he continued to say as he stopped and turned to one of the roses that were protruding as if meant specifically for him in that very moment. "Yet is this not as equally valuable? This tiny, red, smelly little living creature. Does it have no value?", he asked more questions that he knew he would be given calculated answers to, yet not before asking one all important question before he allowed Aimone's response.

"And if it doesn't, then I must ask...", he said, turning and slipping his hands into his pockets. "What are you willing to do to protect the knowledge that you so heavily covet?"

[member="Aimone"]

 

[Zenitha Chuma]

"Of course," the Selonian began, gesturing to the rose in question. It certainly did have value. The specific variety came from Vjun, the Malreaux rose. Its deep black hue was deceiving, a property most attributed to the dark culture of the world. Others saw the bloom's hidden color, a vibrant red hinted throughout the flower's petals, as a splash of freedom on an otherwise cursed moon. Aimone had little care for the worthiness of either argument, only that they existed as part of the whole debate, making a point to learn the particulars of each during the course of his plant studies.

The plant itself was a similar curiosity to the Jedi youth, the leaves of which featured heavily in the poultices and liquid concoctions of the Jedi healers. In addition, the petals and roots were praised for their flavor and herbal properties when brewed in a tea. Yet, like all things of Vjun, the plant had a dark side. Brew the leaves of the plant, even a sliver, and the boil produced a poisonous gas deadly to the pot's attendant. The Padawan opened his mouth, intent on informing his master of all he had learned of the plant, when he stopped. Sharp incisors and other indicators of his species' carnivorous nature were evident as Aimone weighed the words against themselves.

As if to answer his uncertainty, Varus spoke again, calling his new padawan to the rose-petalled carpet. For a moment, the Selonian was speechless, unused to defending himself in such a manner. Among Archivists and Master Celynne, it was common for his words to be under constant scrutiny, his arguments picked over with a fine-toothed comb. Yet never in his time in the Archives did someone assume ill of his character. The assault stung and Aimone's words came forth in a bitter retort.

"Knowledge must be preserved if it is to survive the course of any civilization," the Selonian stated sharply. His snout snapped shut as he thought for a moment, reconsidering his tone. The heat within his throat simmered as the furred youth calmed, continuing when he was confident in his own control. "It nnneeds be passed on to the minnnds of the next gennneration. Recorded for cennnturies of posterity, and connnstantly examinded against new unnnderstanding to ennnsure its continnnnued truthfulness."

"That," Aimone said finally, raising his voice slightly with pride of his own making, "is my duty."

---

[member="Varus Shatterstar"]

 

[Varus Shatterstar]

Varus smiled at Aimone as he responded, seemingly ready to use a sharp tongue, though he gathered his patience and employed his resolve so that he could respond with the right answer rather than brash words. When he did, though, Varus wasted no time in making sure that his Padawan was aware of the game they were playing. "I hope that my words don't fall so heavy, but knowledge is something that you feel responsible for, and so I wanted to see just how you'd react."

Leaning back up from the flower, which he fondled with the tip of his index finger before stepping away from it and continuing deeper into the gardens, Varus took in a deep breath of the sweet smelling flora around them, sighing as he let the air leave his lungs slowly and smiling as he looked back to Aimone. "So...", he said first, waiting for him to look back up into his ice blue eyes. "Would you like to learn how to protect this precious knowledge we've accumulated for those that come after us?"


[member="Aimone"]

 

[Zenitha Chuma]

The Selonian bristled at the suggestion of being goaded, his whiskers set to twitching as he watched the Human warily. Heart thumping in his chest, Aimone had no idea he was holding his breath until he released it, feeling his muscles relax as he did so, the tension in his body subsiding. The conscious part of him knew that the reaction was purely primal, some animalistic flight or fight response encoded deeply within the cells of his body, out of his control. Yet the subconscious part, perhaps the most Jedi part at the moment, took the response as a failure of his years of training, and a sharp pang reverberated throughout his body as that realization hit home.

A better Jedi would have been troubled by the thought, and perhaps the shudder would have turned into real concern or fear. Even a Jedi knows fear, it is simply his duty to rise above it. The words came from the depths of him, his subconscious seeking out his consciousness, pleading with it to listen. A better Jedi would have heeded the words.

He dismissed them.

Straightening, the Padawan looked at his master with the full force of his being, enthusiasm building up within him. He would have little need of the training that so worried that small part of him once he passed his Knighthood trials. The road that led to his trials lay before him, his path now restored, and it began with the very first step. Some part of him took that to be a physical, and not simply symbolic, requirement. Aimone took a step forward before saying, "Yes, I would, Master."

---

[member="Varus Shatterstar"]

 

[Varus Shatterstar]

Smiling softly down at the young and furry Padawan, Varus closed his eyes and nodded at him happily. "Good.", he said, turning and extending his hand towards him, pulling his index finger back towards him a couple of times as if to illustrated that he should follow him. "Then we'll start figuring out your strengths today. That should tell us just how best you can be trained and what forms of combat you will be most prone to picking up quickly."

Leading the pair of them through the gardens, Varus slowed down as they reached the far edge, scaling a set of stone steps that lead to a dirt path. That dirt path lead up into the treeline ahead, and past that a rather hilly terrain the eventually became a range of mountains, covered mostly in green, though the peaks that protruded were of stone.

"So, Aimone.", Varus started to say as they walked. "I can tell that you are agile, and rather nimble on your feet. Your ability to run on all fours yet fight on two will be valuable to you.", he told him as they slowly waded into the treeline, their forms fading into the wilderness around them after a while.

"That's why I've been doing a great deal of research on the renowned Master Yodi. A Jedi both small, yet incredibly powerful and revered for acrobatic combat styles.", he said, glancing down at Aimone and sharing with him another smiles. "Do you believe that an acrobatic saber form would more suit your needs, Aimone?"

[member="Aimone"]

 

[Zenitha Chuma]

There had been a time when Aimone focused a significant portion of research on the Jedi's typical forms of lightsaber combat. The Jedi Order had boasted of many great combatants during its tenure, wielding various lightsaber configurations through various combat forms. The Soresu and Shien masters, champions of defense and offense alike. The Shii-Cho masters, conquerors of the basics. Those of Ataru and Juyo fame, complex yet artfully talented fighters. And finally, the Makashi duelists, masters of the highest caliber, proficient in a form that turned combat into a dance style.

Suffice it to say, Aimone's true passion lay in the Way of the Ysalamiri. A pure expression of combat, Makashi was disciplined and meticulous, a visceral fighting style which the Selonian consider the best representation of the Jedi Order, besides their iconic lightsabers. As much a science as an art style, Makashi was devoid of the fancy footwork, flashy acrobatics and twirling blades of other styles, relying instead on rote memorization and application of the movements and sequences, its goal not to overpower or out-tire an opponent, but simply to outmaneuver them. A simple goal, yet sometimes the simple goals were the hardest.

Aimone had once attempted to learn, only to stumbled before the impatience of a trained used to teaching students who passion lie in lightsaber combat and not holobooks. For all the Padawan admired of Makashi's discipline, he could not bring himself to apply the same, leaving his instructor frustrated and his ambitions of being a Makashi duelist shattered.

Ataru was a different beast altogether. Designed for agility, strength and speed, the Way of the Hawk-bat focused on application of the form to overpower an opponent. It was pure aggression and offense. Ataru was a passionate form that demanded the whole being of a practitioner, demanding a love of both the aggression and of the fight itself. Showy steps and fancy acrobatics made up the repertoire of sequences, a proficient practitioner could make it seem artful, yet could hardly disguise the true nature of the form's intent.

Aimone pondered this notion, well aware that his master's suggestion had not been made on a whim. His first instinct was to respect Shatterstar's wishes, despite his preference for learning Makashi. This was simply an unpleasant task, he had suffered through unpleasant tasks before, and for an instant his mind considered this no different. The Selonian stopped himself before he could blindly agree, reigning in an automatic response he had honed under Master Celynne's tutelage.

This was to be a lightsaber form, perhaps the form he would take with him into knighthood. A voice at the back of his mind, more confident and firm than the one before it, spoke with force to him, reminding him not to take the decision lightly. That this was a defining, not fleeting moment.

He listened.

"Well," the Musteline Jedi began, "My hope was to learnnn Makaashi. But..." he looked up into the eyes of Master Shatterstar, hoping to find assurance there. "If this form is truly the best opportunnnity for me..."

---

[member="Varus Shatterstar"]

 

[Varus Shatterstar]

"Ataru is not the only form in which you can apply acrobatics, Aimone.", Varus said, smiling at him for a moment as he elaborated. "There are, to my knowledge, three forms, one more of a subform really, but Ataru isn't your only option. Alas, it seems as though you have different plans for your training than I had in mind."

"Good.", Varus said, nodding in approval as he lead them out into a clearing, a dueling circle about ten yards in diameter laid out in that clearing surrounded by overhanging trees and the winds that caused them to sway gently, back and forth. "Making up your mind about what kind of Jedi that you intend to be is the entire point of today.", Varus said as he backed up into the circle and stopped when he'd about reached the center.

"I won't tell you who you're supposed to be or what you're supposed to do. How would that help you to be the best version of yourself, as a Jedi, that you could be?", he asked Aimone as he reached up and pulled his leather jacket over his shoulders. He slid it from either of his arms, took it in both hands and folded it over his right forearm before continuing, that same smile on his face as he addressed his new student.

"If Makashi is what you believe best suits your needs, then Makashi will be the first thing that you learn, but not from me.", he told him, grinning at the furry Padawan. "There's a Master named [member="Kana Truden"] who's been a well known practitioner of Makashi longer than I've been a Jedi.", Varus admitted as he tossed his jacked atop a nearby bench and rolled up either of his sleeves. He then reached down and plucked either of his sabers from his belt, tossing one to Aimone that he assumed he would catch as he finished his thought.

"If you're going to learn Makashi, you'll learn it from the best, but today you'll relearn the basics first."

[member="Aimone"]

 

[Zenitha Chuma]

The Selonian considered the man before him, the one he now called "Master." Aimone couldn't be sure of what to expect from Varus Shatterstar, whose motives were distinct from those of the typical Jedi. Perhaps that had been the reason the musteline youth had been so drawn to the Human, perhaps the Force had made its will known in this most unlikely of pairings.

As Shatterstar shrugged off his outer apparel, the Selonian tensed, his whiskers rustling at the Human's preparation. For what? the padawan inquired of no one in particular, his mind reeling in response. Did his master want to wrestle or pitch a fistfight? Perhaps Aimone had made the wrong choice of fighting style after all, which his master now intended to correct. The padawan precluded no possibility from his thoughts.

Except the right one.

Aimone discovered his error as the lightsaber hilt took flight, soaring in an arc towards the unsuspecting Selonian. A hum, a buzzing tone with some form of melody, seemed to grow around his ear as if an insect were flying about his head. An irritation overcame the Jedi youth, and he raised a foreleg to swat at the unseen annoyance. With the nimble fingers of his hand outstretched, Aimone felt something heavy make contact, a cool metal thing, against the palm of his hand. Without thinking, his hand closed on it automatically, leaving the padawan to stared in brief surprise at the lightsaber hilt he now held elevated before him.

His surprise took two forms.

First, the appearance of the foreign lightsaber. It had not so much the shock value as his own actions did in retrieving it. Once, Aimone had stumbled upon a book describing the Derkolo of the planet Sileron, a viscous predator that hibernated through the harsh winter of the planet. Not unlike an early spring on Sileron, the Selonian's long-asleep skills began to awaken, with just cause for not finishing out their wintry hibernation. In some way, Aimone's shock came about not because he possessed the skill to listen to the warnings of the Force, but because he had nearly forgotten what it felt like to hear it.

The second surprise made itself known as the metal hilt of his own lightsaber bounced against the thighs of his hindleg, causing the Selonian to glance down at the object. Only the other day had he returned the weapon to its rightful place on his belt, and already the object's presence had been nearly forgotten. A look of questioning rose on the padawan's face as he held up the captured weapon, gesturing to his own before peering up at Master Shatterstar, "I already have a training lightsaber, Master."

---

[member="Varus Shatterstar"]

 

[Varus Shatterstar]

"Good for you.", Varus told Aimone as he took his own lightsaber and clutched it in his right hand. When he did he stepped into the center of the ring and took a basic combat stance. He raised his right hand and took the base of the hilt with his left, gripping it with both hands tightly. He raised the saber to eye level, turning it horizontally as he did, the saber tip pointed to his right.

It was one of a few basic, defensive stances, and as he held the violet, humming weapon he took on smooth breath, glancing over the deep glow of the blade and down towards his apprentice. "You won't be using that when you train with me.", he told Aimone, a serious look upon his face as he slowly shifted his stance, taking on an offensive position this time, his movements slow and calculated. When he moved he pulled either of his hands back and held them at his waist, the tip of the saber pointed up and mirroring his upright back.

"Others you train with might expect you to use a training saber. That is perfectly fine, but as long as you're learning from me you will use a fully functional weapon.", he told Aimone as he continued to transgress through each of the seven forms baser combat stances. "You will learn, first and foremost, the importance of care and precision, or you'll probably lose a finger or your tail. Either way, you will become and artist with this blade, and if you do not, your lesson will be a harsh one learned.", he told his furry apprentice.

"Follow along, Aimone. Today we learn the basics, and when you've been broken in you will begin learning your Makashi if Master Truden kindly accepts you for a session or two."

[member="Aimone"]