The sword is power

[Er'in Tenel]

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Ryloth​

Sinner's Well​

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The sword is the axis of the world and it's power is absolute.​

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The early morning light slanted in through the tall transparisteel windows that lined two of the three walls of the training room within the sanctum sanctorum of the Vicelord of the Commonwealth of Independent Systems, Darth Metus. The autofilters cut down on the glare, revealing the myriad of weapons both ancient and modern that lined the other two walls, along with the deactivated training droids and holotargets sitting silently in the motes of dust that danced in the shafts of early morning light.

The Vicelord himself was absent this morning - at least for now - and the rooms sole occupant was one of his newest Acolytes, who stood among the weapons of war with elegant grace, waiting with somewhat less than patience for her tutor to arrive. It was her own fault of course, she'd chosen to arrive earlier than even she expected even the driven Echani woman to arrive for their appointment. She'd half expected to find her here doing her morning practice, but she suspected that her fellow Acolyte had both performed her practice, left and had time to return. Which was very much like Srina, really.

Er'in hoped at least she'd managed to dress practically enough that Srina wouldn't give her one of those looks again. She'd fenced since the age of four, so armed combat was not totally alien to her. But Dagobah had taught her that there was a world of difference between sports fencing in the Hapes Consortium and actual combat. Still, she strongly suspected she would get the look anyway, Srina just didn't understand she couldn't actually easily walk without high heels thanks to a lifetime of wearing them. She'd managed to find a practical and padded fencing jacket which - extortionate cost and style aside, shouldn't actually meet with outright laughter.

Although Srina would never actually be so gauche as to laugh. Which was why Er'in had come to her rather than to her Master when she wanted her first lessons in real swordswomanship and - eventually - the use of a lightsaber.

The thought triggered recollections of chaos of the Dagobah swamp.

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Swamptroopers.​

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Pain.​

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Fear.​

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Anger.​

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Release.​

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Mandalorians.​

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The tunnels.​

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Darkness. The voices. The girl.​

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Rage.​

Er'in's grip on the vibrosaber she was carrying tightened until her knuckles were white. She was never going to be weak again. Anger and flames seared in her heart, lightning danced along the backs of her knuckles and with a whine the vibrosaber died as it's electronics burnt out under the dark side energy.

She sighed. That was happening a lot lately. Food processing units. Droids. It was only time until it was a person. She was trying to tame the dark flame that had woken fully in her heart - just as Darth Metus had promised. But the power came so easily now that she had to leash her passions to her intellect.

And that was why she was here, really. Through Strength I gain Power. Well, there are many sorts of power and strength without control was nothing more than pointless destruction. She refused to become that, so she broadened her knowledge even as she spent hours in lone meditation in an empty room focusing on the flame in her heart.

She just really hoped she had it controlled enough she didn't electrocute her dance partner for today. Darth Metus would not be pleased if Er'in hurt his beloved.

And bury that thought deep, Er'in. Point it out to them and who knows what will happen. They're off to the Silver Jedi Order Lifeday celebration soon... and isn't that bizarre? Let them have their time.

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[member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Darth Metus"]

(We're using your house, after all)​

 

[Srina Talon]

Srina moved through the well-lit corridors of Sinner’s Well at a leisurely pace. She knew every nook and cranny of the vast fortress that her Master called a dwelling. It was unlike the tall white towers of Eshan that pierced the sky, but no less appealing, in its own way. It was a bastion of safety and security in a place that seemed specifically designed to devour and destroy all things. Not even droids were spared the eroding effects of dirt and dust caking in their gears and joints. But here, in an unlikely place, the small Echani found herself at peace.

Sure, she was still vaguely jealous of all the green that the SJO enjoyed, but this was slowly becoming home. It was the place she thought of, over the Ferocity, even over Eshan, that she longed to return to after weeks in space. Her homeworld was not home. No matter her love for it…It was not where she belonged. Not anymore. Not when some clans would rather see her dead, or nearly enslaved, for refusing a marriage contract that would bring her family nothing but pain.

It would have been easier to give in to the demands that had been made. However, Srina was never one to take the easy path. She wouldn’t place her kin in danger simply for her own comforts.

The slender young woman walked with all the grace of a little warrior queen with two soft towels slung loosely over her shoulder. She held a basket in her other hand, having prepared two chilled bota’s of water, and a light, fruit-based snack. There were sealed containers that held an assortment of emerald grapes, sweet berries, burrfruit, and most importantly, jogan fruit. Srina would have made something but her culinary skills were more than lacking. Besides, something light, after a hard morning would serve her fellow acolyte well.

The white-haired Echani was a little surprised to see that Er’in had already arrived when she entered the training area. A quick glance to the time-piece on the wall told her that she wasn’t late. Infact, she was exactly on time. “Forgive me if I’ve kept you waiting long.”

Srina set the basket of goods against the wall and a blessed, welcoming smile, spread over her features. It was brief and pale but very honest. Silvered eyes followed the line of the young woman’s form without shame. It wasn’t the hourglass curvature that she perused so obviously but moreso her state of dress. Her stance. The way she held herself. The Echani breathed in deeply, before her eyes focused fully on Er’in, finding something extremely unnatural burning her nostrils. “…Is something burning?”

As if on cue, the burned out vibroblade in the dark-haired apprentice's hand gave a dying little whine and Srina raised her hand, using the Force, to tug the object from the Hapan royal. Keen eyes inspected it, though she didn’t touch it when she recognized the burn marks, simply keeping it suspended in midair. Electricity? Her pupils doubled in size as a fleeting vision stole through her like a wave. From the swamps of Dagobah to the structured training area they now stood in—she could see that the beauty was becoming a force of nature. “I see…”, she breathed slowly, shaking her head briefly to clear the emotion and cobwebs from her mind. What Er’in felt…The determination to remain strong echoed in the deepest parts of her. They were similar in that fashion. “You may want to avoid the use of vibroweapons until you’ve mastered your abilities.”

“Force lightning, force shock, or whatever form you are unintentionally exuding is tricky. Sometimes it takes the properties of naturally occurring elements…Sometimes it does not. You’re lucky that this blade only burned out. Usually, this weapon would act as a conduit. Electrocution is never a fear because there usually isn’t time…Typically the current would travel up the length of the blade, connect with the energy cell, the vibration generator, and create a subsequent explosion that would have taken off your hand.”

That was putting it lightly. Srina had been raised on the use of vibro-weapons all of her life. She knew the risks and the dangers long before becoming an apprentice. She’d actually seen soldiers in her unit lose limbs when the Thyrsians employed dirty tactics to thin their ranks. She did not want the same thing to happen to Er’in Tenel.

Srina guided the broken vibro-blade toward the wall and hung it neatly for the time being. Er’in would not need it yet. “Today…We’re going to start small. There are a few core principles we must begin with to ensure you have the best possible chance of employing all of your skills. Being able to move freely, unhindered, no matter the environment will be a priority.”

“But first…Your jacket and footwear are unnecessary. No matter how lovely.”, she trailed off, giving the beautiful Hapan a soft smile, knowing how much she would loathe the request. If she chose to fight in high heels it would most definitely be a difficult session. “Next…Show me how, if you had to, you would throw a punch.”

“I would like you to try hit me. As hard as you can.”

Now mere feet from her fellow apprentice, Srina seemed small, nearly friendly. She was dressed in very little. A pair of fitting black leggings, with black strips of leather, pressed in, tucked into what appeared to be knee-high, soft, flat-bottomed boots. They had tread for traction but no heel to speak of. On her torso, she wore a work out brassiere that was a bland grey color. The rest of her remained bare. All in all, imposing, she was not. Even her hair, braided back in one long, thick rope, seemed almost reminiscent of a child. “Take your time and don’t worry. You won’t hurt me.”

[member="Er'in Tenel"] [member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Er'in Tenel]

Er'in watched as Srina took the weapon from her, almost casually discussed the problem she was suffering, then set the weapon aside.

And for a very long moment, it was hard for her to remember - or forget - who her masters favourite was. The only one of them who didn't openly call him master. Bow. The one who clearly had the upper hand in the relationship. She felt her teeth clench in involuntary anger and greed.

'...will you stay in this gilded birdcage or come with me and call me master?'

She frikking well should have spat his offer back in his face.

It was worse, much worse, because she found it difficult to be angry at Srina - which she was sure had to be weakness - but her fellow Acolyte had been nothing but kind, helpful and open with her. She'd agreed to teach her, she'd made an effort... and she clearly had no clue how her master acted around other members of the Acolytes.

That just gave Er'in a level of existential rage she could have used to power cities, if only she wasn't fairly sure she'd short out any transformer she tried to feed power.

“Take your time and don’t worry. You won’t hurt me.”

Er'in didn't remember swinging for Srina, probably never would. It was only a vestigial hint of self control and the complete understanding that Srina was clearly about to make a point that kept her from doing something more serious. She knew it was a mistake - she knew doing so wildly was an even greater mistake - although to give her credit, Er'in had as much idea of how to throw a punch as Srina likely had to greet the Queen Mother of Hapes. Er'in also knew that the almost girlish appearance of the other Acolyte was a mask - this woman had been training from war since she was a child, and size mattered little if you had speed.

But for all that, barely had Er'in slipped out of her shoes when those words hit her like a blow. There was no condescension to be read into the words, but for a moment she allowed herself to hear it none the less, just to give her something to release her temper at for a moment.

Regardless of the cost.

[member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Darth Metus"]​

 

[Srina Talon]

The slender Echani remained oblivious to the thoughts that ran through her fellow apprentice in regards to herself and their Master. There was a momentary emotional driven shift that caused a change in her outlook of the training room. It came in the form of a cloud, emphasized by a well of anger that flowed unbidden from Er’in, coupled with greed. Srina did not understand the source but could only assume that it had something to do with outside influences. Silvered eyes pierced through the Hapan woman, seeing more than she was meant to, yet, less than what was needed. “Is everything all right Er’in?”

There was a pause that barely spanned the length of a breath before the dark-haired princess obliged to her request. If Srina was surprised by the sudden movement, fueled with a touch of wild rage, there would be no evidence in her expression. She simply moved to the side, her pale form little more than a disturbance of air, letting the attack sail by her. “Not too bad…”, she murmured gently, taking the notes of inherent strength, and determination from the roughness of her form.

“You and I will almost always be at a disadvantage in physical combat against our male peers due to our relative size. Fighting against someone like Mirvak or Darth Metus, even without the application of the Force, will always leave you sore and bruised because it is meant to. They are composed of pure strength. We must endeavor not to get hit as often as possible and it is for that reason that we must always remain one step ahead. Anticipating how the enemy will attack is just as important as mounting an offensive. We will work hard, which means, you will need to eat and stay sufficiently hydrated.”, Srina explained, slowly circling her fellow apprentice, as if trying to figure out where to begin. The punch that Er’in had thrown had gifted her overly observant Echani eyes knowledge of where to start training.

“The essence of fighting is the art of movement…So we will start with footwork.”

Srina bent down and tapped the woman’s ankle, likely, placing her in similar positioning as her fencing studies would have. “Our movements will rarely hold linear restrictions. Fencing is a perfect platform to begin with, but, general combat is less clean. There are no rules, no limitations, and it will never be fair.”

From there Srina began to carefully show Er’in how to stand. It was very different from the way most humanoids tended to walk and move naturally. It would be especially strange for someone so used to wearing impractical footwear. Once they found her center, and a good balance, Srina moved up to guide her into the appropriate movements for making a fist. Taking the Hapan’s hand she moved her thumb and wrapped it down across curled fingers. “Never tuck your thumb in. If it’s on the inside upon hitting a hard target you will break it.”

“Also…Keep your fists tight, but not so tight that you start cutting off circulation. It can be difficult to find a medium between fluidity and power.”

The white-haired woman also explained the importance of aligning the first two knuckles in her hands with the bones of her forearm for maximum structure. Also, so that she would not harm herself. On Eshan it was common for younglings to imitate their elders. Often they would return to their homes with broken hands from hitting the knuckles of their ring and little finger incorrectly. They didn’t quite understand yet to punch someone, or something, with the flats of their fingers instead of their knuckles.

“Now shake your hands out…Move around—and get back into the position we just made. Show me your hands.”

[member="Er'in Tenel"] | [member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Er'in Tenel]

Oddly, Er'in found the calm, gentle instructions and utter refusal to be riled even by the change in her emotions to be... peaceful.

Srina would make a good Jedi. She thought silently. I'm not sure what that means, exactly. But... she would. What does that say about the force, if both sides are right? Or at least... both sides have people who are right in them? Because the day she accepted the Jedi Order was right would be a cold and burning day in Chaos.

"Okay."

She copied the slightly unnatural feeling hand motions, while the stance came easier.

At the same time she made an effort - not to leash her emotions, but to shift them into the rhythm of what was being taught. It took a lot of obvious effort to channel her temper, her greed and her frustration into the footwork and the movement. To begin with she was too hesitant, then too overconfident, but then after a while the basics of fencing footwork clicked with what Srina was trying to teach her and all of a sudden the passion found an outlet.

She didn't go from novice to expert in a heartbeat, but all of a sudden Er'in was bought into the lesson - heart and body, mind and soul both no longer in conflict, every motion made to the best of her ability, blows stuck with the peak of her strength, movements as fast as her body would allow.

Er'in was not particularly fast or particularly strong - and likely never would be, even if she spent years working at it, but her ability to think two steps ahead of anyone was... well outmatched by an Echani, but still considerably better than a significant percentage of the galaxies combatants.

"Okay." She said with considerably more confidence and willingness to continue. "I'm over my snit. Lets get this on."

[member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Her query in regards to her fellow apprentice’s well-being went unanswered. Srina’s lips twitched into a miniscule frown, but she didn’t press Er’in further, simply assuming that she didn’t want to talk about it. The slender Echani could understand that sentiment. When it came to sharing how she was feeling or articulating base emotions—Srina preferred to keep the rest of the verse in the dark. With that in mind, she launched smoothly into a rather bland lecture on stance and technique. Physical combat and martial arts were topics that she was well acquainted with. Explaining it came easily to her.

A ghost of a smile spread across primrose lips while she watched Er’in copy the basic movements she’d demonstrated. Her willingness to try again, and again, and again made things easier than she’d anticipated. There was no shame in doing something incorrectly. Mistakes were merely ways of learning and often led to success. Only if the Hapan princess gave up and threw in the towel would Srina consider the morning anything less than an accomplishment. “Good…That’s very good. Now you just need to practice pushing off with your back foot so that you can snap out a quick jab. You’ll begin with your knees slightly bent and your feet slightly staggered. For this you’ll want to keep your chin down and your hands up..”

“Your lead foot will slide forward slightly before impact.”, the pale Echani took hold of the dark-haired woman’s wrists, as she often would have in this session, and guided her through what she wanted in slow motion shadowboxing. “Do you see how I twisted your arm at the end? The corkscrew motion before landing will ensure maximum power.”

Srina could see Er’in focusing her emotions into her training. It wasn’t exactly the blank slate way that the silver-eyed woman preferred in combat, but it was effective for some. The Thyrsians often employed that style of fighting. They were heat, burning sun, while the Echani were ice and freezing moon. Either way, it was definitely a better outlet, than accidentally sending a few volts through her. Srina had been on the receiving end of a Force Lightning attack from Darth Metus in the past. It wasn’t something she really wanted to repeat just yet.

After a little while her student for the day paused and admitted to being over a snit, something that confused Srina, but she nodded regardless. From context clues, she could understand that the woman wanted to continue and she was perfectly fine with that. “As you wish, Er’in.”

“I want you to try and hit my hands for a little bit. I’m going to rotate around you so you’ll have to move accordingly in order to match me. After that, well begin work on your guard. As much as you don’t want to get hit…It’s going to happen. It’s best to be prepared for the inevitable to minimize the damage.”

With that Srina raised her hands, fingers neither tight nor loose, with her palms facing Er’in. As her fellow apprentice threw her best jabs, the pale woman accepted the impact, only speaking if she needed to correct something. The only way the Hapan woman would get a true feel for hand to hand would be if she immersed herself in it. Simply hearing about it or reading about it would only serve being informed, which, was never wrong, but it wasn’t what the apprentice had asked for.

Er’in had asked to be taught. Srina intended to teach—which included making her body move in ways it wasn’t used to. It would take time and effort but with enough determination, she could still be a force to be reckoned with, especially with her intellect. Many fighters were sloppy and undisciplined. She couldn’t count how many times she’d defeated someone simply because they ignored basic kinesiology.

[member="Er'in Tenel"]

 

[Er'in Tenel]

Er'in did as she was instructed, often awkwardly, but with increasing skill - she learns techniques quickly, even if she doesn't have the strength, flexibility or mobility to apply them. It became obvious pretty quickly her fitness level, while vastly improved over her prior life, was going to need to be taken to the next level in a reasonably short period of time - this far into the training session she was already sweating and if not looking tired, then looking worn, when realistically she should barely be out of warm up.

She has no qualms about hitting people, it turns out, just... not really much experience of it. Nor for that matter, of being hit. Well, she recently gained some very painful experience of it, but nothing in the way of techniques to teach her how to handle being hit, or the stamina or experience - and also the 'not exploding in anger' or at least - 'exploding practically'.

Now driven, she won't ask to stop even when bruises come into the equation - although anything more serious probably will - it's almost a little odd, watching someone who's totally unpracticed and knows it, yet has the intellect to understand a flaw, but the pride not to give up when trying to fix that flaw. Even if it can't be fixed in one day.

On the other hand, she actively seems to enjoy physical activity - which while it may seem odd at first, remembering that her hobby is racing tiny little ships around the surfaces of suns, sometimes even moving them by pulling on cables rather than anything remotely modern, it should come as no surprise she's a touch of a thrillseeker and an adrenaline junkie. Not to the extent it dominates her personality, but she enjoys a good runners - or fighters - high.