Private Way of the Saber

[Caltin Vanagor]

Keeping a Promise
TYTHON
TRAINING COURTYARD

~Come find me. Your new defensive training starts now.~

Reaching out through the Force, his message to the three was deliberate, concise and succinct. Would they know exactly what he was talking about? Maybe, maybe not. It had been a little while since they had convened, but Caltin was keeping a promise that he had made to himself. He was going to start expanding the knowledge of others, not in an attempt to overshadow their own individuality or training they were receiving from others, but to unify the Order that much more.

Four of his Training Droids were standing side by side. Each of them holding a training saber. They were “on standby” as Caltin himself was sitting in meditation in the middle of one of the courtyards. It was a nice day, so it was better to do this outside than in one of the training rooms. What is “this”? Well it is called "Way of the Saber", and is a defensive form he had developed over a long period of time. There were some to whom, he had taught this to already, Judah Lesan , Kahne Porte to name two of the three, Connel as well of course, but this had been kept “close to the vest” for a long time.

Now it was time to start giving others the tools that could help them.

Everything was ready, he just had to sit there and wait for them to find his faint aura in the Force. A way to start their test of their instincts.

Braze • Aris Noble • Azurine Varek • Anyone else (but please ask first)
[Text in Brackets is spoken on Comm-link] ~Like this is through the Force~​

 

[Aris Noble]

Of all the things Aris continued to learn, there was a surprising little amount of Lightsaber work. It wasn't that he wasn't being taught it, but his continued experiences had him learning how to use his abilities in different ways. He wanted to learn more about how to use a Lightsaber, needed to, even. So here he was. He stepped into the class, giving Caltin a respectful bow of his head.

"Master Vanagor."

Caltin Vanagor | Braze | Azurine Varek

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

Keeping a Promise
TYTHON
TRAINING COURTYARD

Noble… welcome. Grab a spot and limber up. We’ll be starting once the others get here.

This is not a required course, in fact in many respects it is voluntary, so if the others do not show and it is just the two, then it is just the two. That would probably be more beneficial, but the old man realized that while at one time it was important to not pass along everything he knew for fear of it getting into the wrong hands, now is not the case. Sure, Caltin is still a bit “closed off” with this information at the moment, but that is to make sure that the three he pegged for being the quickest study can understand it.

The rest will cover itself.

Either way, things are going to change for the better.

Braze • Aris Noble • Azurine Varek • Anyone else (but please ask first)
[Text in Brackets is spoken on Comm-link] ~Like this is through the Force~​

 

[Azurine Varek]

Cleared For Training

Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman | Purple Bracelet
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 [x] | Lightsaber 2 [x] | Hook Swords

Azzie tore down the halls of the Tython temple, her boots pounding against the ancient stone. She had yet to properly venture deep into this particular complex, and as good with direction as she could be with her foresight, she still had one hell of a time keeping track of all of the different corridors. On her first frantic circuit, she glanced through an expansive window to see the courtyard beyond and realized something much to her internal dismay. A hand instinctively smacked against her forehead; inside wasn't even the right place at all.

Arriving at the temple a good fifteen minutes early, she'd assumed she was ahead of the game, but it seemed she had still managed to outmaneuver herself into being late. A surge of frustration tightened in Azzie's chest as she swept back a few stray strands of her raven-black hair and made a snap decision. Rather than be even more late, she darted to the window's edge, planted her hands firmly on the sill, and vaulted herself through. Her boots met the narrow ledge outside with a soft scrape.

From there, it was a quick sliding descent down the side of the building, tucking and rolling hard when she hit the ground. It wasn't perfect—Azzie was still working her way back up to the type of movement she had been able to do before, and she most definitely stumbled on her landing, which she attempted to brush off like nothing had happened. The important thing was that she had reached the courtyard in a fraction of the time it would've taken her otherwise from where she'd found herself.

"—be starting once the others get here."

Relief washed over her. Oh, good. At the very least, she wasn't the last straggler.

Azzie smoothed out the dust on her clothes, closing the distance as if nothing had happened at all. "Don't mind me. Hyperlane traffic was a kriffing riot today." The jest at her own expense slipped easily from her lips, using that to deflect attention from her own chaotic arrival.

Caltin Vanagor | Aris Noble | Braze​

 

[Braze]

Caltin Vanagor Azurine Varek Aris Noble
Braze had undergone surgery recently and had been taking things easy as he recovered from it. He'd just gotten the wiring off his jaw and was finally able to find his voice again. He was quieter now and withdrawn, often seemingly distant and pensive. Nevertheless, he did arrive. He was no longer wearing a full black ensemble, but this time wearing all white with some vibrant red accents here or there. He moved slowly and arrived a little late as well. He offered a curious glance at every one who'd come and offered a quiet of of his head t o each of them in greeting.

 

[Aris Noble]

The others? Aris was first, then? He tilted his head, but before he could ask Azurine came barreling through the door. An amused smirk ended up forming as he dipped his head towards the Zabrak. A greeting, and a joyful one at that. It was when Braze stepped in that his expression softened a little more. His friend. He'd heard a lot of what had happened, but seeing him here now was welcoming.

He wasn't going to make a big deal of it now though. They were here for a lesson.
Aris looked up at Master Vanagor, dipping his head. "It seems I don't need to warm up at all. Are we to start now?"

Azurine Varek | Braze | Caltin Vanagor

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

Keeping a Promise
TYTHON
TRAINING COURTYARD

Welcome everyone. Limber as well as you can. Braze’s health did not fall on blind eyes. Though I assure you that this will not be physically taxing, do not push yourself. He did not speak directly to the Knight, but they were knowing.
The warm amber glow of the sun filters through the trees. Ancient stonework from a long-forgotten Jedi outpost serves as their backdrop. Caltin Vanagor, massive even at rest, kneels in the dirt. His arms are bare, tribal markings visible beneath the sun-scarred skin, and the long handle of Conservator rests beside him, deactivated. He let them do what they needed to, but when all eyes were finally on him, he spoke.

In a calm, deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. You’ve all seen Connel use it. Quick, brutal. Direct. That’s The Way of the Saber. But it didn’t start with him.

He looks down for a moment, brushing a finger through the dirt.

It started with me. Not because I wanted to be clever, or different. But because I got tired of dying by the book. Nodding as he looked around. The Forms. They work… well. But only if you have the time, the space, and the control. I’ve been in too many places with none of those things.

Standing slowly, towering over them, yet calm. His voice never rises. It doesn't have to. So I created something that wasn’t about elegance or discipline. It was about survival. About turning instinct into art, and art into muscle memory. A way to make your lightsaber do more than just dance.

This was during the Clone Wars. Parts of it, at least. But it came together after. After the Purge. After the galaxy decided Jedi were meant to burn. That’s when I realized I couldn’t keep fighting their way. I needed to fight mine.

He then activated Conservator for a brief moment. The golden blade crackled with energy, the permafrost edge humming gently. Then deactivated it.

Way of the Saber isn’t a form. It’s a mindset. A style that merges close-quarter combat with your saber. Grapples. Strikes. Blocks. Throws. It's a combination of instinct and movement—50% martial, 50% blade. 100% yours. Then there is the Force. If you’re attuned, you’ll move like water. If you’re not, you’ll learn. This isn’t about pushing the Force outward. It’s about letting it flow through you. Letting your muscles remember what your mind forgets when adrenaline takes over.

He takes a slow breath, then begins to demonstrate a chain: a sidestep into a punch, followed by a sweeping leg takedown and reverse grip saber swipe—all deliberate, smooth, devastating.

These are Tier One moves. Basic. Survival-oriented. They teach you how to live through the opening seconds of a fight. Kick-Hilt Jab. Forearm block—Body takedown. Elbow—Weapon strike. No wasted movement. No flair. Just results.

Holding up the Holocron, he looked at it. And the Holocron? It’s locked. You answer its questions—honestly—or it shuts down. This isn’t a style for the arrogant. It’s for those willing to confront the ugly truth: that sometimes, to protect life… you have to fight like someone who doesn’t want to lose their own. There are some who may look at this and think that it is “not very Jedi like”. That is why I chose the three of you. Not because you are the best fighters, not because you are the best Jedi. You are You fight for something. Not because you're told. Not because it’s tradition. But because it's right. That’s why you’re ready to test this. If you succeed, great! If you don’t that is okay.

He looks at all three, gaze steady, voice like carved stone.

None of you are going to master this in a week. Maybe not in a year. But if you walk this path, you’ll never be the same. You'll bleed. You’ll grow. But you’ll also live. And one day… you’ll stand in front of someone who thought they had you figured out—form and all—and you'll end the fight before it ever began.

He shrugged, with a bit of a smirk.

Isn’t that the best way to end one?

Three combat rings are marked in the dirt. A trio of custom-built training droids—humanoid, armored, and unnervingly fast—stand dormant at the edge. Each is keyed to the student it faces. One for power and endurance. One for speed and chaos. One for precision and counters.

Caltin Vanagor stood at the center, the silhouette of Conservator strapped to his back. A faint breeze stirs the edges of his cloak. His presence filled the air like gravity. Each of these droids are marked with your documented history into their programming. Even your recent events Braze. They will take your strengths into account. They will take your weaknesses. Right now they are “Tier One” rated, so you can practice what I showed you a few moments ago. They will also take into account your instincts. So as you learn them, they learn you. You’re in no danger, but this is real.

He spoke.
Only once per student.
No further instruction.
No further mercy.

The droid before Aris activates with a hum. It moves like a juggernaut: heavy, relentless, punishing.

(to Aris)You’re built like a warhammer—strong, deliberate, hard to move. But strength without rhythm is wasted. Count your steps. Breathe through your bones. Don’t strike where they are—strike where they’re forced to be. Move like a glacier with teeth.

The next droid is sleek, erratic, dual-wielding blades and flickering with sudden bursts of speed.

(to Azurine)You burn hot. Fast. But fire without focus burns out. You're not here to race. You're here to end it before it begins. Time your breath. Count the silence between each heartbeat. Make chaos your rhythm, but never let it consume your center.

Braze’s droid is patient, calculating—its programming built around timing, counters, punishment.

(to Braze) While I reiterate not to push yourself and make your situation worse, I know enough about your culture to know that pain is a forge. It will break the parts of you that were never real. Don’t fight with who you were. Fight with who you are now. Measure each step. Let the enemy write their own ending—then finish the sentence.

Caltin watched them all—one bruised, one bleeding, one grinning like a devil. But all three are standing. He turned to the edge of the training circle and deactivated the remaining droids. The clearing went still. The stars begin to blink into the night sky overhead.

Braze • Aris Noble • Azurine Varek • Anyone else (but please ask first)
[Text in Brackets is spoken on Comm-link] ~Like this is through the Force~​

 

[Azurine Varek]

Cleared For Training

Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman | Purple Bracelet
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 [x] | Lightsaber 2 [x] | Hook Swords

Azzie hadn't seen Braze in a while now. Of course, part of that time had been what she'd lost while in captivity, and the galaxy continued to spin on. The aura of slight apprehension from Master Caltin when his gaze turned to the newer knight was not something she missed, even if it was brief. There had been so much that she'd missed; she could only guess what might be the reason for that. However, this wasn't the time or place to ask.

"It seems I don't need to warm up at all."

A jovial, bell-like chuckle passed her lips that smirked up into a sly grin, intent to keep the air light for everyone's sake, especially her own. "I don't know about that, Hotshot. No one wants to end up with strain injuries from lack of stretching."

When Caltin spoke, she immediately put all of her attention in his direction. There was so much she could learn from him, from this, and the curiosity was clear as she took it all in.

"That is why I chose the three of you. Not because you are the best fighters, not because you are the best Jedi. You fight for something."

Her smile flickered, and her violet eyes flicked to the blades in her hands. She used to believe she fought for a reason. Hell, she still held onto that with every ounce of strength she had. Her foundation had been shaken, making her wonder—

Azzie stepped into the ring with a grin that felt just a little too tight across her cheeks. The droid opposite her whirred to life—its dual blades snapping out with mechanical precision, its movements flickering in and out like stuttered lightning. It was fast. Faster than anything she'd fought since... since before.

Her fingers flexed at her sides. The weight of her sabers felt foreign in her hands, like someone else's weapons, even if she'd spent a painstaking amount of time piecing them together while in and out of the Halls of Healing. She hadn't trained like this in weeks. Not since focus on recovery had replaced routine. She'd spent more time sitting still or slowly working her muscles back into shape than striking, and it haunted her more than she wanted it to.

The confident grin stayed in place even if it didn't fully reach her eyes, that ready-to-learn tilt to her stance. Just enough to attempt to say, I've got this, even as her stomach coiled with uncertainty.

Focus. She took a breath. Then another. Timed them. The droid lunged.

Azzie barely pivoted in time, the twin hum of blades slicing past her ribs close enough to feel the heat. She stumbled—hopefully not as visibly as she hoped it was—but enough that her counter was late. Her saber snapped forward, grazing the droid's shoulder, but its return strike caught her forearm. Sparks flared against her bracer, flicking to the ground, and she had to twist her body to the side to get past it.

Too karking slow! What if I'm not ready for this...

There was no time to keep thinking; the droid was on her without hesitation.

Caltin Vanagor | Aris Noble | Braze​

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Azurine Varek Connel Vanagor Aris Noble

​

Braze didn't seem to offer any argument at stretching, moving to bend this way or that. He was in truth not a very strong fighter, and his muscle mass was more wiry. He was, however, extremely flexible and seemed to demonstrate that with how he stretched, doing what might be extensive or exaggerated stretches, such as standing splits, with relative ease. He did this daily, especially in the morning, and it took him no time to warm up.

He was quiet as he listened to their instructor speak.

Braze had brought with him his lightsaber foil. It was the main saber he seemed to always have on his person and was often worn clipped to the front of his belt with a simple clip.

He flourished the blade and saluted his 'opponent'.

Replication and repetition of motion was something Braze trained extensively. He seemed pretty calm as he stepped through with quick, easy disabling cuts.

The Echani was just… simply someone who had become so attuned to the flow of motion and rhythm of fighting.... He seemed as serene as a porcelain doll and moved with all the deceptive grace of the wind.

Braze practically breathed martial theory. He had spent years obsessively studying saber forms, experimenting with different weapon styles, and drilling movements until they became second nature. Even as a half-Echani, his upbringing had reinforced this path. The value of body language, combat, and precision all showed through in his modest, quick movements. His skill in the art of combat appeared to be a product of heritage, discipline, and his own unique identity, tied deeply to who he wanted to be.

He wanted to be someone who could protect. He worked like hell and shaped every part of his life around that one simple concept.

Still… as flawless as his saber work could appear, he wasn't the picture-perfect porcelain doll he tried so hard to put on display with beauty and grace. He often struggled with letting others in emotionally, pushed himself too hard, and more often than not, got in his own way by overthinking everything.

But today, at least, he seemed locked into the rhythm of training, ready to replicate and take to task. Hours of brutal rigorous training were something rather... cathartic-ally normal for him. . .

Who was he now? That was a hard question to answer. He was... listless at present, and that listlessness allowed for him to act without second thought. He didn't know who he was presently. That question felt too heavy, so he didn't try to carry it. He just let the rhythm carry him, like a sleepwalker caught in routine, eyes open but unfocused, going through the motions.

 

[Aris Noble]

Aris took a breath as he lifted his saber and stared down the droid before him. Only a few strikes revealed the pattern below. Strength, unmoving. Master Vanagor's words rang out and confirmed it further. Aris was to find a way to move the seeming unmovable, to use rhythm and make the foe follow his steps rather than the inverse.

Even his unrelenting strength mattered little when others danced around him. So he shifted his stance. It wasn't a dance that he started to fight in. A droid was a perfect opponent for this different mindset because he had already found it's patterns. Each strike was a test for a response, unrelenting as he didn't tire. Never the same strike twice in a row, always to see just where and how the droid could respond, would respond.

It didn't take long for his mind to memorize it all. Then he dismantled and dissected. He executed a program. The first strike came down, one that the Droid had no choice but to defend itself from. Then he finally brought his fist into the fray. A side step to the exposed side of the droid, a punch to the droid's head, a sweep for it's leg. The unbridled strength the Padawan had was in full display as he just about took the head clean off with the punch, and even more so as metal cracked from his kick.

His saber cleaved it properly in two in the final strike. A mirror of what Caltin had shown, since it was easiest for him to pull from. He let out a breath, but he was neither tired nor out of said breath. Calm, collected, unhindered. This was the only place he could truly excel in as a Jedi, and he certainly did so.

Caltin Vanagor | Braze | Azurine Varek

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

Keeping a Promise
TYTHON
TRAINING COURTYARD

Master Caltin Vanagor stood at the edge of the training ring, massive arms folded across his chest, face unreadable. He had been silent through the exercises, his only movement the slow shift of his weight or the occasional narrowing of his eyes as he observed the trio. But now, the session was drawing to a close—smoke still curled from sparring droids, lightsabers hummed faintly in the cooling air, and three young Jedi stood before him, each changed by what they’d just done.

He let the silence linger.

Then, in that deep, steady voice of his—grounded like the earth beneath their boots—he finally spoke.

You’re starting to see it, Aris. It’s not about being the mountain. It’s about being the terrain. You didn’t try to outlast the droid. You made it play your game. You counted its steps, then you rewrote the rhythm. That’s Saber Kata. It’s not just strength. It’s how you make your enemy react to it. You gave them a pattern—and broke it. That’s where victory lives.

He paused, his expression softening with something like pride. You’ve got iron in your bones, kid. But today you showed me you’ve got a mind like a blade. Keep sharpening both.

He turned to the Echani Knight next. There was a long pause. Not hesitation, but weight.

You move like water, Braze. You think like a machine. Precision, rhythm, beauty—those are strengths. But even water that flows too long without rest will erode its own banks. Vanagor stepped forward, just close enough that Braze could feel the presence of the man—not imposing, but grounding.

You’re trying too hard to disappear into the art. Into the rhythm. Into perfection. You don’t need to impress me. You don’t need to disappear. You’re here. That’s enough. And you are enough. Let the form impress you.

A small nod followed—more than a compliment. It was permission. Let the rhythm carry you, sure. But don’t forget to let your own voice rise above the music. Make it your song, not someone else's.

Then, his gaze shifted—finally, fully—to “Ice Cream”(Azzie).

There was a tension in his shoulders. Subtle. The kind that only someone with her battlefield awareness might notice. Not disappointment. Not caution. Something deeper.

Concern.

You’re fighting two battles, Azurine. His voice, low and even, cut through the settling quiet. One against the droid. The other against yourself.He walked closer, one heavy footfall at a time, stopping just beside her.

I saw the moment you started to think it wasn’t yours anymore. The blade. The fight. The cause; And I’m not here to tell you that’s wrong. I’m here to remind you—it never stopped being yours. You were never gone. Just hurt. He gestured to the sabers in her hands.

That grip? That strike? That stumble? They’re still yours. You’re still here. You showed up. That’s more than most do. That’s not normally what a Padawan who survived an encounter with one of the most infamous Sith Lords in the universe would do. I’m not trying to feed your ego, I’m telling you to get the both of you, you and him out of your head… and back into his. He took a step back. You're not being tested to prove you're ‘ready.’ You're training to remember that you still are.



Caltin finally waved over the others so that he could talk to and look at the three of them together. This style—it’s not about trophies. It’s not about who’s the fastest, strongest, or most elegant. It’s about survival. It's about purpose. The why you draw your weapon. The how you stay standing when everything says fall.

He paused and let the moment breathe.

You’ll fall. You’ll bleed… but if you remember that each of you fights for something, if you let that guide your hand… then nothing will ever own you again. The wind picked up on the plateau, carrying away the last echoes of battle.

Now get some water, some food, and some rest. You’ve all more than earned it.He turned slowly, but just before leaving the ring, he added—without turning back:

Tomorrow we train again. Harder. You won’t like it. But you’ll be better. That, I promise, because the next time you face an opponent, it won’t just be about skill. It’ll be about grit, heart, and the will to endure. That’s what makes a true warrior, and if you took everything in, you won’t even have to think about it.

The next morning, he was out there, early of course, limbering and prepping himself. This would be a review, but also see if they were ready for tier 2.

Braze • Aris Noble • Azurine Varek • Anyone else (but please ask first)
[Text in Brackets is spoken on Comm-link] ~Like this is through the Force~​