To Fight The Devil, You Must Be Prepared.

[Ben Watts]

Jaxton was strong, he would give him that, but his use of the slash was his first mistake. They were the most easily parried blow for Ben as all he had to do was use there momentum to take the attack out of the equation. Ben could he retaliated, but he wanted to keep the fight going for longer, so he kept parrying the blows as they came in. He stood his ground, barely flinching as the attacks came in, he parried them with absolute precision which came from years of practice. He could have closed his eyes and been in this fight but he did not want to get Jaxton's morale to worsen. He was strong but he was brash, a trait Ben could identify with, when first learning to fight with the aid of the force it was easy to get caught up in the moment and rely purely on it.

"Slashing attacks are useless against Soresu. While your strategy is sound, trying to bully me out of my defense, it simply will not do. You need to focus more on side attacks or low attacks. Anything to get my lightsaber to move as far out of the defensive stance as you can. The only way to defeat Soresu is to break the users concentration, and you will never do that with hacks and slashes. You must be direct, precise, and to the point. Every attack must have an end game, a move that is ready to come after it, or you will never beat me." Ben twirled his lightsaber in his hands before placing it back in his defensive stance. "Again."

 

[Seydon of Arda]

Detonations of stardust burst behind his vision. Seroth retreated in a short hop and blinked the flashes by, tasting hot drips of viscous gore trailing down his shaved upper-lip. There was a momentary dullness across his facial muscles, swiftly escalating to a snapping pain that threatened his concentration. One blade receded as he observed Darron taking a moment to lecture, his right sword-hand raising to grab his twisted nose. Curtly, he propped the shattered cartilage back into place, eyes watering at the shooting pain, but once more able to breathe through his warped nostrils as he snorted mottled flesh onto the stones by his feet.

The lesson was quite succinct; beware an opponents natural reach in close proximity. A Sith's uninhibited savagery would make such spaces infinitely more dangerous than say what they were capable within their blade's range. The secondary piece of advice Seroth was interpretating? Physical strikes if swiftly countered could leave a vital spot open for a follow up blow. Darron could have cut his neck open with a quick bissecting slice; would have if he were any other opponent. The boy bobbed his head in acknowledgement; never let them so close. And should his opponent ignore etiquette (what little there was in a life-or-death engagement) and breach the distance? Well... He had Darron's fierce brow-stroke across his nose bridge to act as inspiration.

...Then the air grew thick with a sort of psychokinetic heat and Seroth dipped his eyes down then back to Darron's easy gaze. Loosened brick, mortar, and basalt plates were rattling perilously; their shivering ring combined to spill forward into a hurtling storm of whisky grey missiles. A jagged section of mortar cut a thin, weepy notch over his left cheek and then a slap across his right temple. Then the wall of half-broke objects swarmed in to try and sweep him off his feet. Or, failing that, crush Seroth where he stood and snap his limbs back with pulverizing effort. Would Darron let it come to that? Maybe... The Grandmaster promised to hold as little back as his sensibilities would allow.

He knew his personal faults. His telekinetic repetoire wasn't slouching but he recognized his lack of concentrated ability that Darron made look so easy. Time and practice, he assured himself. How many countless hours had the Grandmaster invested in mastering even the simplest of actions? Seroth wasn't yet nineteen, though his career seemed threatened for disaster in the face of Sith aggression, he had the advantageous of patient years on his side. ...Provided Darron didn't pummel his skull into broken bone and grey mush first. His stare unwavering, his hands moving of their own accord, he let those subtle, instinctual tugs the Force was so renowned for guide his action. In the split half-seconds before the tumbling rubble cyclone overtook him, Djem-So's Barrier of Blades was burning through stone after uncounted stone. One obstinate foot after the other, he weathered Darron's cast of rock. Each slip of defense was a hard sting of basalt to unarmoured cloth; tender reminders for improvement.

Practice. Improvement. Further practice. In Seroth's world of constant training regime's, there was no such thing as perfect. Just further installments of progress.

Green swords held to his sides, he emerged from Darron's lances of thrown objects, bloodied, weathered, but standing yet and breathing evenly. A beat. The boy kicked his toes off the mossy roofing and closed the distances. Other teachers, drill-masters, would have scolded his attempts. Darron was clearly the superior; why taste time, energy, and dignity assaulting his Vaapad form? ...If such was their enthusiasm for accepting impossible challenges, Seroth truly wondered what motivated such doubters to even attempt getting out of bed. His crisp counters met Darron's whirlwind chops, the effect of the Grandmasters almost effortless motion influencing the boy to take the stiffer edge out of his motions. All the while, though, his efforts were baiting a darker aspect of his hunger. There was a temptation for recklessness... Blind motion fed by empty aggression, fueled by an inner sliver of shade and darkness. That shiver of promise... Feed the motivation into anger, from there into fierce emotion... Hate, maybe... And use it as an invitation to unseat Master Wraith and showcase just what Seroth's potential was really about.

"No..." Seroth whispered under his breath. He initiated a sai-hop over Darron's low, dismembering sweep and brought his defenses back to the fore to stave off a scalding, half-minute Vaapad blitz. His forearms vibrated and an ache traveled up into his shoulders and spine. Such sheer power! Such uncompromising defense! The boy returned the brunt offensive with his own battering attack, lining up blow after blow to whorl through Darron's defense as his momentum built. For a moment, it seemed his arms moved of their own independent accord, parrying a cutting stroke to his throat with one motion and whacking aside a poke aimed for his ribs. Then unseen, his right foot tried anchoring in behind Darron's heel, tugging with a hard snap as twin slashes bore down on the Master's defense.

 

[Darron Wraith]

Yavin's sun was almost as unforgiving as Dantooine's, and it brought back memories of a time long before this. A time of innocence, and the clash of blades between the pair was quite epic as Darron's mind shifted between two planes. Green and blue blades clashed on the jungle, as the humidity was like molasses to move through. Condensation wouldn't even dry,and the pair became soaked as the hour went on between them. The sun beat down on them, and their shadows changed position as Rosa came to watch the pair continue their frenetic duel. The GrandMaster of the Order had been as unforgiving as promised, but Seroth did pack some punch. The younger Jedi had impressed Darron with his superb skill, attention to detail, and sheer determination. Through the Force he could feel how the youth had been tempted throughout the battle, and his frustration was understandable.

But you didn't compromise yourself, and that's why I picked you. He thought to himself.

Another volley of strikes, both with their blades and their fists and feet. It was all impressive, and the Jedi had come away with a respect for one another. That had been one of the multiple reasons that the leader of the Order had made this duel happen. Yes on multiple levels it was training, and training that was far from over. In fact they would fight more than once this day, but there was more to being in the Adamant Company than being a warrior. While an important component of the whole, there needed to be study of the Force, as well of each other. While most of the details had been planned out, in Darron's mind there was always room for improvisation. It was a necessary skill in his mind, how else can we adapt if there is always a plan? The man had never once known of a mission, or assignment that had gone all the way perfectly, and this was a lesson he wanted to impress upon the Order as a whole now that he led them.

The hiss of his sabers against the youths reminded him of training with his father, and how the man never gave him an inch. Although the roles where reversed, and for once the older Jedi could see the situation as his father could. There were the tell-tell signs of what Seroth would become, and not just what he was. Yes, this boy would be a powerful addition to the Order one day, and his ascension wouldn't need to be held back. No, his growth would need to be fostered. Though the frustration was palatable, as was his hero worship. The GrandMaster knew what it was like to duel him, he had hear the stories. Hell, the collection of Sith sabers he kept in his office was absolute proof of his prowess. While Seroth wasn't there yet, not by a long shot, he could hold his own and take down darksiders on his own. In fact, I'll bet he will be one of the greatest this Order has ever seen in a few years. Feth...I'll wager my title on it, and I will help him get there.

"Enough Seroth, good job."

There was that undeniable twinge of excitement in his voice as Darron backed away, and let his blades disappear as his thumbs relaxed on their electrum hilts. There was a distinct snap as both hilts where clipped to his belt, and the older Jedi motioned for the Knight to follow him to the precipice of the temple. Where he promptly took a seat and let his legs dangle over the ledge. Taking a moment to wipe the blood from under his nose, the Jedi also felt on his face where there would be multiple bruises from this particular training session. "You did mighty well in the opening skirmish, and showed me exactly why I felt picking you was a good choice. " As he adjusted, he began to take off his cortosis greaves and he set them to the side. While Seroth got seated next to him, he also took off the glove that covered his prosthetic forearm and hand.

The durasteel caught the son's reflection as it caught on it's silver and gold surfaces. The particular unit was as thick as his regular forearm, and it was armored. Not the flimsy sort that most civilians had, it was a rather advanced piece of equipment. One that he rarely acknowledged, or even showed. Though he felt the time was right after getting to know Seroth. "This was the price I paid for saving a friend when I was a Knight, I wasn't always the duelist I am now. You are well on your way to being a great one one day, and I'm quite proud of how you handled yourself. There is more yet to learn, but you showed well for yourself."

Durasteel clasped with flesh as blue eyes scanned the horizon.

"Ask me anything, and everything you have ever wanted to know Seroth. I can't expect you to fight the darkness without being fully prepared, instructed, and without fully knowing your brothers in arms."

 

[Seydon of Arda]

His initial exhileration had been tempered over the hour's worth of cyclical footwork into cool, almost grim expectation. Old stories of the far gone Masters that had shouldered the Order's foundations told, that at times their struggles lasted on for days. How much of that was mythic hyperbole and exaggeration, the boy couldn't discern. He weighed that some would find an hour's worth of blade-work paltry; true, perhaps. But Darron Wraith's Vaapad made him fight like a hundred Juyo instructors simultaneously, to where even a short minute was grueling in its ardent intensity. The youth's bottom lip was torn in a bashed cut, brow and cheeks bruised and his still shattered nose swelling with ugly, darkened patches of miscoloured flesh. Torso and limbs hung with leaden weight, fine muscles coated with exhaustion toxins. Seroth reckoned he had maybe another hour's worth of tutelage and ruckus, if their traded pummels hadn't relented.

When the Grandmaster forced a pause, disengaging from their umptenth counters with an easy bounce, the boy seemed struck with incredulity. The newly christened Knight-warrior half-expected to be pushed on until his motor control faltered and he was struck unconscious onto his spine. He depressed the activator-pad of his swords, bright blades whisking away with a hiss of collapsing containment fields. Sweat was still stinging his vision and mottled nose, walking in behind Darron's unbothered pace. ...When noticing a few choice beads of scarlet dotting the elder's upper lip, Seroth's diaphragm quivered with brief, uncontrolled peels of quiet laughter. Had he been so lucky? He snatched a hankerchief from his belt-harness, handing it across his bowed and crossed knees as a Yavin sunset filled the far northwestern horizon.

" ...We'd be here until three midnights away, " Seroth intoned quietly. "If I asked everything I wanted to know. And where does one start?"

"They always said," He began again. "That what you practice, this Vaapad you've so perfected, is a subtle corruption itself. That it takes Jedi too close to the edge. They always mention Sora Bulg, Depa Billiba, a hundred other names that lost themselves to the deeper shadows. ...Is that yet what Vaapad forces you to pay, or is that just... just weakness?"

"...Am I so weak?" Seroth whispered.

 

[Darron Wraith]

Seroth's question was so pointed, yet to honest it took the GrandMaster back for a moment. Blue eyes scanned the horizon while he searched his own soul for the answer he was about to give. Just be honest Wraith, the boy deserves to know.

"Well, to be honest. Every lightsaber form is a means of maximizing strength, and minimizing weakness. How we fight, shows a lot of who we are. My best friend, Ben Watts is not aggressive by nature. He counters this with an amazing Soresu, and it covers his lack of panache for offense. While also allowing him the chance to try and save those he fights with. Jaxton Ravos is a large and powerful man, but he refuses to use that to his advantage in combat. Instead he uses Makashi..why? To keep him away from being aggressive while allowing him to disarm his opponents. It's all checks and balances if you can't tell."

Tapping his breastplate, the older Jedi made eye contact before continuing.

"I use Vaapad to answer my own innate aggression. I have lost much in this life, the Sith have done their best to destroy and turn me. Through it all they have found that I have a natural aggression and power that they find attractive. In my earlier years of being a Jedi I struggled with this quite heavily after I lost my arm, and many mistakes were made. Vaapad helped me address that weakness while giving me a weapon to fight the Sith back with." More pecking sounded through the air as his durasteel finger tapped the breastplate again. "It's my dedication to those before, and those I lead now that keep me in the light. I would die for any Jedi, any sentient being for that matter. Vaapad is what allows me to use my greatest weakness as a weapon for good, as a shield for those who can't do what we do."

The elder Jedi rested his hands on his thighs once more as he returned his gaze to the jungle ahead. "You aren't weak, Djem-So allows you to show off your strength and precision. Although you need to increase the tempo of your strikes, a speed duelist could give you fits." A chuckle weakly escaped his lips as he once more remembered their earlier skirmish, while patting Seroth on the back.

"You were correct in saying I risk everything while using Vaapad, but un-like those who failed. I remember what I am doing, and why. You can't think of yourself, you must channel that will to succeed. So it's not that I want to win, its that I can't allow myself to fail those who need me to succeed. The last thing on my mind at any time is Darron, that train of thought has caused me fits in the past. Its the path of our enemies and they would kill any and everyone to defeat me or stop me. I would gladly die for any one individual, and that is what makes the difference. I focus on the needs of many, and how best to help everyone. Vaapad is the vehicle for that, and believe me. View me through the Force, there is no darkness Seroth."

A long sigh escaped his lips before he asked his one question.

"So...why the Jedi path. Why train to be something that in all honesty is not the easy path?"

 

[Seydon of Arda]

"...When I was three, my parents left me and died by way of extreme radiation poisoning and organ degeneracy and failure," The boy mentioned softly; as if those little details held all the avid pertinency in the world. "They'd done wrong by the law and couldn't face the pains required to reverse their criminal transgressions. ...So they left me in the hopes that throwing their son at the mercy of the authorities would somehow make everything right."

A soft inner-glow lit up in the skin of his palm. Seroth gently massaged the fingertips up over his shattered nose-bridge, easing the fits of jagged nerves and inflamed muscle. "...Damn that smarts. Then... Well, the Jedi found me. A Knight had been amongst the taskforce sent to bring my folks to court and discovered my sensitivities. For the longest while afterwards, Tython was my home and the instructors were my guardians. ...I spent long nights wrapped up in meditation, crying, Darron, trying to make sense of why the Universe had allowed things to be so. I didn't understand."

"Then one day, it clicked."

Seroth's eyes snapped up, following a trailing leaf in the evening air, lightly snatching it up in an open hand and twirling it midst his knuckles. "I'm ambivalent when it comes to destiny. I believe the Force grants us choice, so that we may make our futures our own and master our responsibilities. I was gifted with abilities that... That... That trillions upon trillions will never know. One child out of a hundred million billion. There is something inherently special to that, Master Darron, incredibly particular. Just as my parents were skilled and daring, so too was I gifted. Not in the same lascivious fields, but granted ability."

"I understood that what I can do, even in the fighting arts, can be utilized for a greater, grander good. Something my parents failed to come in understanding. ...At the end of the day, Darron, I'm just a man. Who am I, who the kark am I? No more, no greater. But a man, an individual, more connected to life than many spiritualists ever achieve in their lifetimes. It is a responsibility. A powerful responsibility... To use the Force for knowledge and defense. Never for attack. So it's not about an easy path. It's about the right path. It is about saving life... About changing pain to joy... Making that marked difference for either just one life or millions. That is the essence of my life, me being a Jedi."

Seroth blinked slowly, hushing. "...Least as I try to understand it."

 

[Jaxton Ravos]

"I got it." Jaxton said as Master Watts told him about his chosen form. His idea of strong-arming the man didn't seem to work, but it was far from the only plan Jaxton had. He slashed diagonal left-down, then horizontally to the right. Both attacks would be easy to block, but they were intende to. Switching to a right-handed grip Jaxton slashes diagonally up and to the left, then came down to mirror the strike, but at the last second before contact de-activated his saber and brought his left hand up to block Ben's arm at his wrist, then pulled his right arm and lunged forward for a punch to the gut.

@[member="Ben Watts"]

 

[Ben Watts]

His ferocity in battle was something that would intimidate most men, he was strong, fast, and his strikes were precise, but Ben had the upper hand thanks to his ability to predict his opponents next moves. Blocking the first two, Ben was not caught off guard by the lightsaber being cut off, nor the punch that was thrown to his gut. Jaxton was going to have to realize that the only way he would be able to penetrates Ben's defenses were by disrupting his connection to the force. Ben was much too in tune with the force for a straight up battle, he could fight for hours on end with his defensive form, especially when he was able to see his moves before they even happened. No matter how strong or fierce Jaxton was, Ben could lighten every one of his strikes with a perfectly practiced parry, or by readjusting his momentum.

With his free hand, Ben caught his wrist as it came in, but with nowhere near the strength needed to stop the blow he did something else. Using the force to help him, Ben jumped into the air and used Jaxton's arm as a balancing point to flip up and over his head. Landing behind him, Ben promptly put his lightsaber back into a defensive form, and backed away from him. He put a good ten feet in between them before stopping and holding his position. "A Master of Soresu is nearly impossible to break through. You are strong and fierce, there is no denying it, but no amount of ferocity will be able to get through me. Not only that, I am a user of the skill Battle Precognition, it allows me to predict your every move with the help of the force. I am constantly in tune with it, and you are doing nothing to break my concentration. You have wasted energy with your attacks, coming in strong, but I am still at maximum stamina. Calm yourself for a moment, use the force not as a tool, but as an ally. Let it guide you, it will help you to penetrate my defense."

Ben was not going to keep his defense as strong this time. He would allow for Jaxton to at least have a chance at getting through him. If Ben was determined to best him, he would, but that was not the point of this training.

 

[Darron Wraith]

"That's the key right there Seroth, that's why I chose you."

A smile crossed his handsome face as he patted the Knight's back with his hand of durasteel for a moment, and in that moment Darron was proud. That small speech, that small story was exactly what he had been looking for this entire time. It wasn't marital prowess, even though Seroth had that in spades. Not even the Knight's ability in the Force was to be considered. The mountains of reports on each of the men he had brought in to form this team, they all didn't mean a thing. Once more they were just lines of text and letters that he could look over, and in this case each report told him what he was seeing was true. No, at the end of the day Seroth had the necessary mental make-up to be in Adamant Company. What made it even better, was that the newly minted Jedi Knight had no fething clue about it...yet.

The afternoon sun fell some more, and the gradual cloak of darkness began to fall on the world around them.

"You see the whole picture Seroth, and that makes a difference. Yes, your story is tragic, but you look past it. You see it as a choice to aspire for more than your parents did, and there is no resentment there. You see these wonderful gifts we have been given, and you appreciate them, and how they can be used to help those who could never touch what we can. You see that there are multiples paths that you can take, and you actively seek the hard one. Those are the traits of a true Jedi, and the traits of a good man. I don't know your parents, nor will I ever get the chance to since they passed. They did right by you Seroth, if that was the only purpose of their lives, then they succeeded wholeheartedly."

His words were from the heart, and he hoped that the youth could see that. If it was one thing Darron Wraith was, one thing that would never change, was that he was honest. The truth was simply the best and most easy way to fix situations, and to do all things. There was no time for dishonesty, or subterfuge in times like these. Not with a galaxy full of threats all around, and an Order that needed him at his best all the time. No, he was still a man at his core, a simple man raised by simple people. While he had been trained as a Jedi by both of his Jedi parents, they had made sure to make him a full fledged farmer, and he learned much from his time. The merits of hard work, and how reaping what your sow was a maxim in all things in life. Those lessons had stuck with the GrandMaster as much, if not more than those he learned in the temple.

Even now I still remember all you two taught me, thanks you two.

Turning to look at Seroth, again. Darron motioned for him to follow as he started to walk across the top of the temple and towards the stairs.

"A Sith will always try and appeal to your innate self interest. They will attack who you are, and what made you who you are. There is no greed for them to attack, you see how all paths are dictated by choice. You don't lament the past, and you dont' regret the roads that brought you here. There is no desire for change, you wish for good of all life. That is the sum of who you are Seroth, and it's why you will be on my team. I am proud to have brought you here, and I'd like to have your company from now on."

Darron paused as he stopped in mid-stride.

"How would you feel being the one who is my guard? I don't need one, but I may as well take one I can help train further. As well as a man as incorruptible as you are. The council and Chancellor have begged me to. What do you say Seroth Ur-Rahn, Knight of the Jedi Order? Will you tolerate this simple man known as Darron Wraith?"

 

[Seydon of Arda]

They boy never held qualms over what humble position he'd find himself stationed. Seroth, more acutely than anyone, was wholly aware of his age. His youthful disposition. That he had made Knight at just the cusp of nineteen, at the Grandmaster's writ no less, had certainly made a few ripples show in the relatively placid pace of internal Order affairs. Certainly he'd been surprised; surprised as grandly as Master Mazhar. But in private introspection, he was unproven and young. The Senate would chew him out, the Mandalorians crumble him, and the Sith... He'd heard more than a few whispered worries of what that dark venture would earn him. Save for himself and the confidences of Master Rosa, few held faith in young Seroth.

Now he looked to the Grandmaster, expression so startled he may as well have been struck by rogue lightning. To their east flank on the temple lawns, the Yavin forestry tree line rattled with swaying tree-motion and beast calls. The air was brittle, too cool for close comfort though it retained a strange over-moistured edge that caused incessant sweating. Seroth's surprise made every sense overbearingly receptive; distant dragon-bee drones flitted loudly, soaked earth stank beneath his feet, while the atmosphere felt too close as his eyes outlined Darron in sharp relief.

"Me?" He said.

Master Wraith's constant references to an as of yet 'unformed' company had welled up considerable excitement. Their sparring alone, however admittedly one-sided, was an hour of challenging joy he'd never allow time to fade. Despite a regime of rejuvenation casts of Force energy, to refresh his weary frame, Seroth's sword-arms and legs were pained with raw, punished muscle. Yet... Darron hadn't fully 'played to win', so went the phrase. He ignored a follow-through on the heels of his brow-bash to swiftly, cunningly sever open the boy's throat. Likewise he refrained from simply pulling the roofing out from beneath his footing and send him tumbling to the unlit chambers below. Seroth anticipated there were yet a thousand unspoken lessons to survive through, and as the day died down, was on the verge of stoically accepting his lot of enduring them on his own.

"But surely someone else on the Council, anyone on active combat duty..." He tried to argue, hastily biting over his tongue as he looked up. "...You said it yourself that you don't need an escort."

It took the span of further beats before his stunned faculties processed the enormity of what had, in metaphor, landed in his lap. How many Padawans, newly christened Knight-warriors, would kick and bite over one another for an opportunity to take lesson at Darron's side? His expression weighed between contemplation and incredulity. Arrogance would have proclaimed his right to the spot. Jealously grating at the idea of any other taking the Grandmaster's attentions. Yet... For what Darron called his stunning ability with his favoured Djem So and Jar'Kai... Seroth's limited nature always consider himself the least amongst his peers. Was he deserving? Was this in his remit to accept? Could he be so bold?

"I..." He stammered.

Grey eyes blinked whilst a parched throat swallowed. His mouth set into a determined line. "Yes. I can be a companion to this man, Darron Wraith." He nodded, flashing a familiar, thrilled smile.

 

[Jaxton Ravos]

Jaxton frowned in annoyance. He could feel it. Ben was toying with him. Jaxton's skill and athleticism was simply stopped by the wall of Master Watt's mastery of Soresu. It was aggravating, as Jaxton knew few, if any Sith would ever use such a defensive form, and he also knew if any of them had fought him on the level Ben did they wouldn't have held back like he had. Jaxton put his pride aside for a moment and analyzed Master Watt's words. Precognition. Concentration. Force, tool, ally. He would not best Master Watts with a Saber, at least not today. Jaxton needed to find a way to use his mind and not his body to best him.

But what was there for Jaxton to do? He was no telekinetic, Battle Meditation was too stressful for a one on one match, and even if he had learned how to alter people's minds he wouldn't have to do it with a Master, not to mention the implications such an attack would have. Jaxton took a deep breath, then cleared his mind. He pushed off the ground, darting to a nearby tree and slashed it through, pushing it towards Master Watts with his free hand. He darted from tree to tree continuing the slash and push combo. It was a brutish move, but one that would require Watts be alert, but in truth it was a feint. For as he cut down the trees he used his Zeltron talents to secrete pheromones, pheromones intended to alter Master Watts towards a more angry, and sorrowful mood. It was odd, as normally he would produce pheromones to give a sense of happiness or calm, but such an action would have strengthened Watt's connection in the Force instead of harmed it. As he secreted his pheromones Jaxton also sent projections of anger and sorrow through his Zeltron emotional telepathy, a move that would both compliment and the effects and hide the scent of his pheromones.

With the fifth tree cut down Jaxton instead of pushing it jumped on and ran up the falling trunk, then used the Force to strengthen his step and leap with inhuman speed at Master Watts, his body catapulting towards the man like a bullet. Just as he was a half-meter away he released his enhancements of speed and used the Force to push his body back, making Jaxton land not on top of, but nearby Master Watts, not coming within reach of his lightsaber. Returning his Force Speed to action he shot forward after his pause on the ground and came at Ben in an attack of speed, not strength, rapidly attacking diagonally up, to the right, sweeping legs, vertically up, then stabbing forward and bringing his body to the right of his lunge into a blocking position.

@[member="Ben Watts"]

 

[Darron Wraith]

"Good Man, that's exactly what I wanted to hear."

The echoes off of their boots were rather weak as the sound escaped to the open sky above. The birds in the trees above chirped, and the other native creatures screeched at the pair who clearly didn't belong on their planet.

Making their way down the stairs, the pair continued to the ancient courtyard before them. The years of neglect after the Jedi Order had left the planet, as well as the years that it had been left alone after the Gulag virus, showed clearly. Where the walls had once been as clean as could be, now they stood covered in years of mud, and various spores grew on the walls. The trees had nearly taken up the entire courtyard, completely eradicating the once massive space. Where it had all been once well kept, and nice and orderly. It seemed that life as it always does, had found a way. It warmed his heart to see the planet had begun the slow and arduous healing process from all the darkness it had endured, but eventually the light would win the world back fully. Sometimes, it seems that we try to do so much to help. When in reality we should honestly just step away at times and allow nature to have its way.

A smile crossed his lips at the thought, and he simply enjoyed the thought as they traversed the courtyard.


"So, what do you think of this world? And of our team? I mean do you think we will succeed?"


(sorry, not feeling like posting long today)

 

[Seydon of Arda]

"Yavin?" The boy's face swung up, regarding the Grandmaster's easy question as they made their tour of the Temple grounds. Wiping dew from his brow, Seroth considered his answer, soft boots whisking soundlessly through nearly hip-tall lengths of white flecked grass-blades. "It's beautiful. I've always had a taste for places where you can simply lose yourself trailblazing. But... Yavin IV is also undeniably old. I think it likes to wear its age like a lead cloak. Everything feels so weighted in the past. Old memories. Old poisons."

The pair picked their way through a coppice of brown-ringed bristlecone softwood birches and ragged creosote rings underfoot. Distantly, Ben and Jax's practice threw up tumults of noise; the sheer-crash of lightsabers, dull thwumps! of telekinetic impacts, echoing out over the angered calls of nearby beasts trying to either settle in for the coming evening or waking in preperation for nocturnal hunting hours. There was a drone of Ben's voice, admonishing Jax, who responded in gruff counterpoints ending with another blade strike. Then, worn by centuries of torrential rainfall, partially devoured by mineral hungry weeding, stood an iron-molded statue of two once proud Jedi. Man and woman, featureless but with sword-arms upraised showcasing unignited hilts. Wordless, Seroth dipped his shoulders, bowing his respects to the memory of the long-gone Praxeum.

"As for the team?" He said. "It's undeniably eclectic but therein lays its strength. That and, to our benefit, we're beyond temptations of ego and pride. However, we won't know how well we truly mesh together until we serve in the field. I anticipate difficulties, perhaps, but not 'impossibilities.' I trust you... I trust Master Watts, Master Ravos. I trust that we all realize our places in the grand scheme of things... The responsibilities entrusted to our care. We'll go far. Because we'll will ourselves to do so. There's no other alternative, as far we're concerned."

 

[Ben Watts]

Ben looked on, never breaking his defensive posture, as Jaxton struggled to decide what he was going to do. If Ben had wanted, he could have attacked, but this lesson was about breaking through defenses. Ben was sure he had never gone up against a defense as strong as Ben's, but the good news was, if he ever did he would be prepared. Though he wondered just how many Sith used Form III, he doubted many, it was most definitely a Jedi form. Most Sith were brute, wanted to end the fight quickly, or show off their skill. Ben much preferred to draw out a fight, wait for opponents to make mistakes, and then capitalize on their foolishness, which happened more often than not.

Watching as Jaxton took off, he admired his critical thinking, and also his speed and power. It was rare to see such an athletic fighter, Ben guessed it came from his grav ball playing, but Jaxton would make a powerful Jedi. He hoped this little training session would broaden his dueling skills. As the trees began to fall over, Ben began to dodge them, with relative ease. Ben smirked, did he really think this was going to work? As the trees were falling, he weaved in and out, and before he knew it he was becoming frustrated with Jaxton's lack of initiative. Fighting back the urge to yell out, Ben then realized his mind was not as clear as it usually was.

Ben was more in tune with the force than most people realized, so when something was off, he could spot it quickly. He realized that his mood was rapidly changing and he caught on that Jaxton had to be the one altering it. But how? He did not feel any force trickery, Ben would have stopped it easily, even with the trees as distractions he would noticed something going on. Either way, it was working, now he was having to fight off the feelings of anger, sadness, and pain as whatever it was that was affecting him battled his wits. The trees had been a distraction of some sort, but Ben knew not of what, he did not have time to worry about it though as Jaxton was making a b-line for him.

As the last tree fell, Ben gathered his defensive position back, and when Jaxton attacked he was not holding his ground like he had been. He was still in control of the fight, but now, he was back peddling. Every attack that came in, Ben could parry, but with Jaxton's speed and power he would get pushed into a corner. Form III was OK in corners, but it was much better to be in an open space so that he could have a way to move or dodge in all directions. Deciding that whatever Jaxton had done was quite impressive, he figured it was time to show off the power of a Jedi Master. Building up a large sum of force power in his free hand, he dodged the attacks, all while getting enough energy for a powerful force wave.

As he was backing against trees, Ben released it, sounding almost like a sonic boom as he thrust his arm forward and released the massive amount of energy that he had procured with the force. Dodging it would be nigh impossible in such close quarters, and the effects of it would be quite impressive, moving even some of the trees. Aiming directly at Jaxton's stomach, he intended to sling him across the forest, normally he would follow through with the attack but he would not this time, waiting instead for him to readjust himself.

 

[Jaxton Ravos]

@[member="Ben Watts"]

Jaxton smiled as he pressed into Master Watt's defenses. Though his mastery of Soresu was impeccable he knew he could find a way to break through if he had the man cornered. So back to the corner he pressed, until he felt the Force flowing around him and towards Ben, who gathered the energy in his hand. Ben pushed his hand forward, and Jaxton flew backwards, and into the forest around them. He deactivated his lightsaber as he flew, so not to hurt himself accidentally, then hit a tree, creating a loud thud and rattle as leaves fell from above at the force of his impact.

He felt a sharp pain in his back as he pulled off from the tree, and examined his back to find a small piece of bark lodged inside. He grabbed it and pulled it out with a tug, blood leaking onto the rest of his robe. Jaxton returned to Master Watts and ignited his lightsaber, taking a defensive stance.

"Can we do more of that?" Jaxton asked, never taking his eyes off of the Master. "As useful as breaking defenses is, I'm more concerned about improving my defenses against the Force." Jaxton said his thoughts turned to his battle on Junction. He could have fought the Twi'lek Sith blow for blow, but he had no answer for her Force Lightning.