Ask I'll Get That Arm

[Caris Orlan]

Weird. Caris picked up an arm, set it down, and grasped another for inspection. He could still feel the phantom fingers stretching in his missing limb. An incredible strange experience trying to decide on an arm. He shook his head. Setting the latest on the table. The healer looking expectantly at him. Caris just shrugged. “None of these, sorry.” He could practically see the woman hold in a sigh. This was forth batch already. “We will find you something. It often takes time.” He tried a smile, but it felt false. “Thanks.” He turned to leave the small chambers tucked in a corner in Brighthome. He was not whole. A replacement arm would not fix that.

Taz had pulled him back from the brink of his darkest thought but he was far from himself. He was lost. There was really no clever way to put it. He felt he had as good a chance of finding himself as his missing limb. His identify simply no longer existed. He was a Shadow. An unassailable fortress against the Darkside…until he wasn’t. He fed those emotions to that dark piece of his soul calling for them. How could he ever trust himself in combat again? Could he even be left alone on Ifrane? What a wonderful example of a Jedi. No use in a fight. So confused he might as well wonder off.

He was no longer afraid the Darkside would reach out and grab him…he was less certain this was really the place for him. They were at war. He could barley work the Force to heal such was his unbalance. Caris slowly unbaled his fist. Wondering the halls. He eventually found one of the sparing classrooms. Padawans being put through the motions. He liked the repetitive feel. It helped him forget.

@Altaris

 

[Ferrin Sipal]

“Again,"

The gruff, stoic voice of the Jedi Instructor rang through the training room - repeating the same words that he’d uttered several times before. They were timed just as a certain Pantoran Padawan fell backwards from a minor bolt, knocking him flat onto his back and causing the training saber to fumble from his fingertips.

For hours, the Padawan had been running drills with the training droids - deflecting scaled down plasma bolts and practicing his saber techniques. And for hours, the Pantoran had found some middling success before inevitably making a mistake. This time, the bolt had come just as Ferrin spun around to face the droid - unable to move his saber in time to block it.

Ferrin groaned a bit, rubbing his head before rising to a stand. He felt the dull ache and numbness from the bolt that struck his chest, but otherwise was keen to keep going. He bent down to pick up the training saber, golden eyes only then flicking up to briefly land on Caris. Perhaps their time designated time in the training room was up, or the Knight only intended to watch. Either way, Ferrin glanced back to his instructor - prepared to continue with the exercise once again.

@Valen Pelora

 

[Caris Orlan]

Caris watched the Padawans get manhandled by the training droids. A small smile, the first in weeks, crept up his face. Something about watching them fall down was hilarious. He fondly remembered his time in getting hit in the chest by stun bolt. Well, he sure as hell wasn’t going in the field anytime soon…maybe he could make sure one more Jedi did not end up in a body bag.

“You’re dead.” Caris’ eyes fell on the young Jedi. His voice dry. “One bolt to the chest like that and you’re on a funeral pyre.” He waved off the instructor. Caris was no famous Jedi but he’d fought the Demond Prince three times and lived. He looked down at his stump. Yavin having been the costliest.

“You can’t turn your back on the shooter. You’re not fast enough to spin, refocus, and block.” His head flicked to the droid. “And the droids are slow.” He walked over and yanked the blaster from the droids hand, quickly firing three shots at Ferrin’s center mass. The kid needed to learn to react quickly. What better way.

@Altaris