An experienced teacher. (Training)

TwoFacedInAcid

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Tracyn stood before of the training droid. Memories of his childhood flooded his mind; his father, the lessons, and training he passed down. After a deep breath, the Mandalorian spoke to the droid, "Begin program Tracyn#08". The droid twitched for a brief second to register the command and then took its stance, awaiting the opponent to engage.

The young man pushed the memories back into his heart where they would serve no distraction, taking his form and matching it to the droids. Not another moment passed as he engaged his cybernetic opponent, ducking down a bit as his right fist struck the droids chest; the blow was parried with a metal arm following up with retaliation from the droid. Going through with the duck, the droids solid metal fist passed over Tracyn's skull, where his face was just a moment ago. At the same moment, he thrust his available fist with full force into where the ribs would have been, if the droid were a human form. The blow unbalanced the droid, sending it staggering back a couple feet. After recovering, the droid quickly closed the ground between them, coming back with a swift waist-high kick. The attack made contact with Tracyn's abdomen, though his beskar'gam absorbed most of the impact. The droid continued its assault with more kicks, these ones aimed for Tracyn's ribs.

Tracyn's fists were locked to his sides in defense, his breathing controlled and focused as well as possible for the situation, even under this pressure. Two kicks made contact with his armored right arm, sending a familiar tingling sensation as the vibration of the blows passed through the armor. As the droid attempted a third kick, Tracyn opened his defenses to catch the kick as it came close to contact. The kick almost knocked Tracyn off balance, but he adjusted quickly and he grabbed the droids leg. He was trapped between the inside of his right arm and torso. Moving without hesitation, Tracyn hammered down his left elbow down on the joint of the droids knee. The sound of circuits popping and metal bending echoed as he slammed his elbow down on the droids leg. Tracyn let go of the object, the droid rendered immobile by its knee being snapped. The young man fluidly coordinated his body to be placed behind the training droid as it dropped to the one good knee it had. Within the fleeting seconds, Tracyn positioned his upper appendages into the respective places he was taught to snap the droids neck. "Shoulder check; hands in place. Now!"

The droids helm spun fast as Tracyn's hands followed through with the neck snapping motion; its body was obviously designed for that concept in mind. The leg, on the other hand.. Tracyn took a step back from the broken droid. A look of disappointment was on Tracyn's face as he removed his helmet. "Haar'chak! If you were a man, that would have been a good take down.. But a broken droid isn't going to help anyone." Tracyn deactivated the droid, and began to examine the damage to the knee. 'It may be awhile before we can find the parts needed for repair,' he noted to himself mentally.
 

Sisk_Renelo

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Sisk sat nearby, his crushgaunts disassembled in front of him. The motors had taken some damage in his last battle, and, like the tenets stated, he must keep them in good repair. His hands moved almost without thought, cleaning the gears and wires, and reassembling them. He had done this so many times, he could have done it with his eyes closed, just like every piece of his gear and armor. His attention was focused on the young Mandalorian in the sparring pits, squaring off against a droid. Sisk hated sparring droids. All they had was their programs, and that never was enough to conquer a thinking being.

He watched the young Mandalorian defeat the droid, and sighed inwardly. The fight was raw, utterly without grace. Sisk understood that many close combat bouts turned brutal, but the warrior who stayed light on his feet was the one who could avoid strikes and counterattack more effectively. Thoughts ran through his head at a lightning pace, before he finally stood and moved to the training floor, dressed in a plain red tunic and black pants, with knee high black boots sheathing his legs. He stepped forward gracefully, his footfalls making nary a sound, before he stopped in the middle of the ring, behind the warrior, who was fussing over the broken droid.

"Quick and powerful, but it's not a style I've seen before. I counted at least 12 openings where a true opponent would have been able to make a kill strike."
 
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