Honing the Blade

[Chuck Owens]

@Horizon

Deen was late. He heard all about this course from Letto, although he had to admit, was a little reluctant at first. It was run by a man named Garreth, who Deen had heard little about, only that he was harsh, strict and generally better off avoided. However, Deen had already refused help from a number of sources, casting them off as unnecessary or way beyond his skills, and this seemed like his final option. Whenever he was met by an opportunity like this he shied away, due to personal pride or fear of failure, but after two years of independent training (and very little progress made, on the big scale), Deen finally decided to bite the bullet and give a more intense training session a try. What's the worst that could happen?

A large waterskin hung from his belt, along with his silver hilted lightsaber. He doubted they would be using live blades, but reckoned it was a good idea to be fully prepared. Deen rushed through the corridors, his tank hugging his chest tightly, his light boots padding against the stones. It must have been somewhere around here, one of these doors... His destination was a sparring room deep within the temple, far from the outside courtyard, where Deen could usually be found. He checked his datapad. This was it. Creaking open the door, Deen stepped inside, steeling himself for what he was about to participate in.

 

[Horizon]

The door creaking open echoed throughout the chamber. An unsettling silence that pervaded the very air that Deen would find himself in. There was weight to the very oxygen that his lungs yearned for. It was something of a signal for this young mind to take note of before it was too late.

Stepping from the shadows, a man clothed in white and gold trimmed robes stepped forth. Before the light even revealed his whole identity, what could be seen was artificial. Robotic even. A cold visage that stared down the man before him. Perhaps he was more a boy than anything. Coming into the light, the man known as Garreth extended his prosthetic arm with an open hand. The words that would filter his mask would seem ghastly in tone due to his injuries.

"Hand over your lightsaber, padawan. You do not deserve to bear such a weapon on your person."

Garreth stepped forward into the light completely now, showing further his expression of disapproval and discontent upon what remained of his face.

"To think that this order would even allow you to walk these very halls like that. Countless Jedi have died with that weapon in their hands and here you are carrying it around like some kind of trinket."

To someone like Garreth, such a display was disrespectful in its entirety considering he had witnessed his brothers and sisters fall in combat after what seemed like a small frame of time after they had earned their lightsabers.

 

[Chuck Owens]

Although Deen stood a good half a foot above him, Garreth emitted an intimidating, enigmatic aura that dwarfed Deen's confidence. The Padawan struggled to meet the Knight's eyes as he unclipped the silver hilt from his belt and placed it into the outstretched hand. Instead, he roamed about Garreth's appendages, a little taken back by the appearance.

"Of course. I-" His voice faulted and he cleared his throat, the trepidation and discomfort clear on his face. "I didn't mean any disrespect."
​

Deen could see why people stayed away from this guy. What had he gotten himself into?

 

[Horizon]

The scarred Jedi took the lightsaber firmly in his hand, holding it for a moment as his gaze met his student's eyes that sat far above his own. A look of scorn and utter disrespect that he planned to burn into the young man's mind in order to let him learn this lesson like many others he would teach. Garreth then ripped the weapon away and placed it on his belt right beside his own before walking away with a noticeable scoff.

"And now you've allowed me to disarm you, padawan. So eager to please to learn, yet you distinctly lack the knowledge of what it means to be a warrior. These are dark times, Deen. I will not call you padawan again. You are a man before you are your title. The council would never admit such a thing, but I am here to teach you what you will need to know. Otherwise you will be cut down like a dog on the battlefield. If I was a sith, I would have won this before the battle had begun."

Garreth walked to a nearby rack and grabbed a training sword, its overall design to emulate the energy of a lightsaber, but particularly heavier all around considering that the blade was a solid fixture and simply emitted energy. He turned to Deen and tossed it accordingly.

"You will never disarm yourself again to me, your fellow Jedi, the council or anyone else. If you truly want to learn what it is to be a Jedi, then you may want to invest your knowledge in the library. No, here you will learn what it takes to defeat the sith. Here you will learn how to survive. You will learn to fight and you will be damn good at it by the time I'm done with you."

With a snap of his fingers, the room turned pitch black for a brief moment before brief imagery began to swell and bloom around them. Ragged air covered in sand blew about them. The sounds of blaster fire surrounded them as a flurry of multicolor bolts seemed to fly overheard and about the area. The occasional explosion rocked the surface they stood on and even the sound of locked sabers battling for domination over the air was clear.

@Chuck Owens

 

[Chuck Owens]

Deen's eyes met Garreth's for a brief moment, before breaking their hold and drifting to the ground. There was something about that scarred and broken face that distilled a deep unease in Deen's heart, but at the same time, a sense of respect. It showed strength, fortitude and courage. Deen's eyes picked up again, watching the Jedi's face as he talked, passionate and emotive. There was an odd sensation bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Anticipation, nerves, excitement. Inspiration. Deen felt inspired to learn, to forge ahead in ways he had never felt inspired to do before. In that brief moment, he wanted to be there, to make it.

Deen caught the training blade in hus dominant right and hand and measured it's weight. It felt clunky and fat in his hand, unlike the sleek, minimalist hilt he was used to. Suddenly, the world around him changed, snapping into a desert battlefield. A blaster bolt shot past his face and another flew right by his knees, each one making the Padawan flinch and duck.

"Wh-what's going on?"​

 

[Horizon]

"War."

As the word filtered through his mask, an explosion shook the ground around them and lit up the sky through the sand storm's cloak and shined for a brief moment before the wreckage could be clearly seen plummeting through the sky. Strands of fire and smoke casting off as its decent became more and more clear in regards to their location.

Nearby a lightsaber was activated with that iconic hiss as a red hue came into view. The sands masked the stranger's appearance briefly before marching closer to Deen's position. Ragged black robes and metallic helm was clear to see now. Two vacant eye holes stared blankly at the young man before him as pieces of cloth blew about in the wind from his person.

A voice echoed inside the mind of Deen, it was that of Garreth himself as he spoke through the force.

"Assume your desired position. Whatever fighting style you have chosen, you must employ it immediately."

As the echoes faded into darkness, the dark figure before him leaped aggressively like an animal. Landing on his feet and low to the ground, tilting his head from side to side as he sized up his prey. Shallow breaths could be heard beneath the mask, the occasional sneer and strange snicker.

"Mhhh, Jeee-daaaiiiii... Siiiiiiiithhh... Killllll.."

The snickering turned to full blown maniacal laughter as the sith warrior lurched forward. Swiping wildly at Deen and jumping back uncontrollably. The sith's movements in their entirety were abrupt and outright unpredictable. Whether or not this was trained into the warrior or simply his mind reduced to something broken yet dangerous was something that Deen would have to forget. He needed to defend himself and end the sith before him.

 

[Deen Jacmin]

Deen activated his training saber, which he held in both hands, cyan leaping to action. He placed his right foot in front of his left, blade pointing straight up. Form II, Makashi. The creature jumped out of the smoke, taking Deen by surprise and he took a step back with his right, angling his blade across his body to defend against any wild slashes. The Sith took a swing and the Padawan stumbled slightly, deflecting the blade with a flick of his wrist, passing it to his right. He quickly regained his balance and regained his footing, returning his left hand to the clunky hilt. Form II was all about footwork and positioning, so Deen was going to have to be nimble and agile to succeed. He took two steps forward, taking a quick slash at his opponents shoulder, angling towards his chest, and then took two steps back, returning to the defensive.