Private The Scholars Duel

[Vakim Alder]

An apprentice without a master may often seem lost, which was a trope that Vakim had certainly fell into. While true that he had only recently left the Sith Academy of Jutrand, he continued to find himself lurking around the Academy. As far as he knew, there was nothing stopping him from making use of the many resources and the banks of information in this Academy, and so he intended to continue to do so until he found another source for his information and training.

Training weights, droids and a manner of training tools lay scattered around one of the many training halls, with Vakim sat alone, his breathes laboured. It was frustrating beyond belief to know that this could be done almost effortlessly with the force, and yet when he tried to do anything with his own strength, he had no real results. His weapon of choice, a training saber, was on the other side of the room entirely, as Vakim had tossed it away in frustration once he was done.

Vakim made a quick journey into the libraries, retrieving books and anything he could get his hands on that would detail and break down the many different forms of light saber combat. Once he returned to the training room, he sat down, and opened them in front of himself, simply starting at the pages. For many months now, he had been trying to wrap his head around the second form, Makashi, and no matter how much he drilled the theory into his head, there was a pathetic disconnect between the knowledge and his ability to actually move in the way he wanted.

After a few moments of rereading, he went and retrieved the training saber, before standing in the centre of the room, taking a deep breathe.

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Malum had suddenly decided that before leaving Jutrand, he would make a stop at the Sith Academy on the planet. He did not have great reasoning for the idea, yet gave a weak justification regardless.

He wished to see how the Sith Academy of Jutrand measured up to the Palace of Silver Rain on Saijo. He had planned to enroll here all his life, after all, had taken tours of the place, indeed knew it like the back of his hand. If it was not for his stint to Korriban, he would have been training her instead of on Saijo, that was the punishment his father had laid upon him after all.

He whistled a somber tune as he walked along the corridors, as the setting Sun cast an orange hue across the entire academy. It was mostly deserted, as was by design, he could make out some students running about the corridors, others huddled over desks working on some task or not, he saw professors marching forth, purpose in their eyes and step. This place symbolised to him a divergence on the road to his life. If he had come here, he would have been a great student, one that would have been academically brilliant, but that would be all that he would be, an intelligent man who could be proficient at blade work and be content to research and search for artifacts, to be content to write the histories that had been so far lost in time.

Instead he had been sent to Saijo, he had found himself within the political powerplays of the Order, found himself apprenticed to one of the three great pillars of the Triumvirate, found long lost family that had made so much about his House so much clear, and now... he would soon depart to Saijo, wherein he would put together a crew of individuals to find the greatest of artifacts.

The great Darth Marr's Holocron.

He was so close, the documents he had found on Korriban almost spoke to him, whispered to him their secrets, soon, soon everyone would know their family truly descended from the great Darth Marr, no longer could any of them label them paupers.

The doors to the dueling arena opened as he reached them.

Oh?

There was a fellow acolyte here. A masked figure with training saber and book in hand.

So late in the evening as well.

Most interesting.

It was good to see someone so ardent in their training.

Should he say something? Perhaps it was best he did not bother him.

Or perhaps it was rude to say nothing. Etiquette outside of nobility was awfully confusing.

"Hello, my name is Malum of House Marr, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Malum called out, stretching an arm out in a wave, before he moved to sit by the bleachers, that sounded about right, a polite greeting. Malum hoped that he would not mind him watching, he had nothing else to do, and he was curious to see how a fellow peer trained, perhaps it would give him inspiration.

Oh it was all an excuse really, truth was, he was still not sure about leaving Jutrand.

Vakim Alder