Ary the Grey

The Grey master applauded her a bit when she finally made it to five consecutive hits. "They definitely can be. There may be times when your enemies will seek to remove the Force from your arsenal in order to weaken you. There are creatures known as ysalamiri that can naturally 'push back' the influence of the Force. It is a survival technique they evolved into because of their natural predators hunting through the Force. If influenced by one of these creatures, you will neither be able to feel or wield the Force. In fact, it almost feels like being thrown into a cold bath. But, if you focus on perfecting the rote movements, you will find that in the heat of the moment you won't be hindered in the slightest. Blasters and slugthrowers are worth their weight in platinum in such scenarios." Mentally, he checked the current time via his implant. "We still have a bit before we reach Onderon. Relax a bit. You understand the basics and the value behind them, you can practice more later." Aryian sat down against the cargo container he'd been leaning against, yawning. He wanted to nap, but likely wouldn't have the time. They would arrive before he'd get the chance to get some quality shut-eye. ((Next post on Onderon))

The cargo barge Aryian and Faux had caught transport on might have been filthy and in need of repair, but if one thing was certain it was definitely spacious. They were set up in one of the medium cargo bays, and strictly told to keep away from the cargo containers (which were security sealed anyways to protect the client's goods as well as the reputation of the crew, apparently a standard practice). What wasn't mentioned was if they could practice shooting a blaster at low levels, and Aryian hadn't exactly asked. The ship was large enough that they were likely to be left alone for quite some time, and the Grey Master would easily feel if one of the crewmen approached. So, practice was on. Aryian activated the training remote, and it hissed through the air behind him in preprogrammed flight patterns as he began speaking. "There are four fundamentals of marksmanship. Steady positioning, proper sight picture and aiming, breathing, and trigger squeeze. For your pistol, you'll want to have your other hand brace your firing hand below the butt of the hand grip to stabilize your shot. Aim down the sights, focus on the front sight and put it in the center of mass of what you're firing at while keeping it aligned with the back sight. Exhale before you fire, this also helps to slow your heart rate so your pulse doesn't affect the shot. And finally, slowly squeeze the trigger until the pistol firing almost surprises you. These are the four fundamentals of marksmanship, master them and you will have a leg up in a firefight. Use the Force to help yourself, if you like, but try to score five hits in a row without relying on it. And take your time, we have a couple hours until we land. If you want, we can make the scenario a bit more realistic when we get to Onderon, I can get us some more training remotes that will fire back and put the pressure on a bit." Aryian leaned against a crate, watching carefully and ensuring her posture was correct when it needed fixing.

"Probably some decorative funeral robes, if they haven't decayed much." It was a stretch, but she likely hadn't heard of Onderin Starlisk despite his widespread fame while he was alive, if only because she had been raised in a monastery. Even so, the joke was in poor taste. "Uh, never mind." He shifted uncomfortably a bit, knowing she'd likely pick up on the fact that it was an awful joke about a dead person despite lack of other context. "It's a chance to go out and see the galaxy a bit. Culture, food, people. To study and revel in what the Jedi call the Living Force, or the connection between all things. We will train there a bit, but we will also take in the sights and maybe experience something new. At the least, perhaps I can use my connections to introduce you to the royal family. Never know when a royal connection will be useful." A notification to his implant alerted him that their shuttle had arrived. He gestured, leading the way for both of them and boarding it on the roof. It was only a planetary shuttle, but it would transport them to one of the larger cargo spaceports on the planet, where they would catch a hop on a barge contracted to ferry Sith supplies to Onderon. As the shuttle gently shook from atmospheric turbulence, Aryian continued the conversation. "First thing's first though, I want to know you understand how to properly fire a blaster, without the aid of the Force. Never know when it'll come in handy. We can practice on the way there." They arrived at the spaceport shortly thereafter, and inside a galactic standard hour were spaceborne. ((Next post in space))

Aryian chuckled as he felt her get emotional. He turned before her eyes got wet, sparing her perceived embarrassment, but still spoke as he adjusted the settings on the remote. "Just do whatever makes you happy that doesn't make someone else unhappy. There's no real trick or secret to life. Your skills will get you far in life, but only you can choose where to find your happiness. But for right now, studying all this is still important. We leave for Onderon. Pack your things, and grab a comfortable blaster of your choosing from the armory, with a few spare power packs." Aryian sent a quick wireless command to a nearby console via his implant, requesting travel accommodations from the planetary AI, as well as summoning a droid to bring him a fresh pair of his old generic lightsabers, silver bladed ones that could lock at the base of the hilts to form a staff saber.

"It gives you respect. And in the wide, wide galaxy, a little respect goes a long way. Plus, it will be a chance to potentially gain notice and recognition of people who might have a serious positive impact on your future." Finishing, he put his dishes in the tray receptacle, wiping bits of food from the sides of his mouth. "But for right now, a bit more of the basics. Do you still have that training remote?"

Aryian activated it, noting the brilliant orange blade. But when she mentioned what the crystals for, he gave a slight impressed grunt. "That's nifty. Orange blade, huh? Feels nice, too. I think this will do you well." He thanked her as she passed the food to him, putting her saber back on the table and sliding it to her. In between mouthfuls of the toast egg thing she'd made, he spoke to her about their next move. "You'll have time to test it out soon enough. If you do well, I think you can move on with the next part of your training, and then you'll be recognized as on par with a Jedi Knight. I know this has all moved rather fast for you, but sometimes there are people who just have natural talents."

"I mean, technically most of them belong to an autonomous collective, while others are direct extensions of the planet's hive mind. Very few of them are actually mine. But, uh...my bad?" Aryian eyed the hilt she laid on the table, reaching out to draw it to him so as to examine it closer. It was mostly a plain design, with standard studs and a grip, but he also noticed a couple nodes with small crystals sticking out of the hilt. Decoration, perhaps? He'd never really seen anything like it before, and paid it little attention. There was no obvious activation stud, meaning it was internal and not really something Aryian wanted to tinker with too hard so as to accidentally mess up her hard work. "It's done? Have you turned it on?"

Aryian awoke to a slight nudging at his face. The floorba cleaner droids were "dumb" droids, having only really been programmed with a rudimentary algorithmic sequence instead of true onboard AI, so when it met Aryian's face in an attempt to clean the "mess" off the floor, it treated him like any other object, merely thinking he was a couch or part of the decoration. It didn't know the difference, and it didn't really matter in the long run. What did matter was that it was a sufficient enough action to rouse the groggy old man from his place of rest and comfort on the padded floor. Time churned on, another day had dawned. Though it was more of a fluid concept in the galactic sense, one day on one planet could be a small fraction of one on another, Aryian's circadian rhythm was used to rapidly matching to whatever planet he happened to be on at the time. It was a common issue for beings who were constantly traversing the galaxy between planets, and the Grey Master was no exception. After a while, Aryian finally pushed himself off the floor, trudging off to the dining area to make himself some coffeine. Faux was still nowhere to be found, but Aryian could still sense she was within the dojo, so at least she hadn't abandoned him and the task he'd given her. After a while of sitting and reading some galactic news on a datapad while he sipped his coffeine, he sent another messenger droid to go and gently wake her up. It was only a bit after the droid left that Aryian began to wonder what the droid considered gentle...it wasn't programmed for protocol.

Hours passed. The Grey Master didn't notice. Many times the holocron almost failed spectacularly, and in a small number of instances the fault was molecular in nature, which unless Aryian had felt the imperfection and stopped it from progressing would have caused a chain reaction that would have destroyed the entire unit. Before he started, he knew the risks, he'd read what little he could find on constructing such a device. The entire process could have lasted months, years even. And while he'd started building this a long time ago, it wasn't as if he'd constantly worked on it. He might as well have started fresh on it a couple days ago. Which, of course, led to complications like cascade failures from potential molecular-sized imperfections. The Force guided him and his actions, and many times Aryian wondered if it was even he who had noticed the problems. All signs pointed to this project of his failing, and in a large way. But despite that, a hidden hand had kept his focus on the straight and true, ironing out kinks, juggling conflicts as they occurred. Aryian had been an instrument of the will of the Force before, but never to this degree. Something, something wanted this to succeed, to play a part in the future that the Grey Master himself could not. In the back of Aryian's mind, this was the only explanation that made sense, but he was so focused on the task at hand that he barely gave it any consideration at all. Instead, he was primarily focused on the structure of the holocron and perfecting it. And as he focused, he could feel parts of himself implanting onto the device. Knowledge, experience, personality...the entirety of who he was. From when he had grown up on Coruscant as a kid to being taken in by the Jedi, to accidentally killing his best friend and peer in a sabotaged exhibition lightsaber duel. Then many years later being accepted back into the Order, relearning everything from telekinesis to alchemy and healing. His training and Knighthood under the tutelage of Master Ben'a. Working with Kirlocca and Armiena to form the backbone of the Special Operations division of the Order. The Augury. The Battle of the Death Star. So many fights and enemies and friends and losses and reunions and meaningful moments interspersed by others that seemed trivial but still added to the sum of who he was. Molecule by molecule, each part of the holocron subtly shifted over the hours, delicately reconfiguring to its most ideal state. Runes etched themselves inside and outside of the pyramid design, of both Jedi and Sith origin. Some runes were within others, overlaying patterns which spanned from being visible with the naked eye down to lines etched onto the hairlike crystal and metal filaments that wound within the device itself. The symbols Aryian didn't completely understand, though he knew it somehow tied him inexplicably to the holocron. That was a requirement of all holocrons, that they were unique to their creator. Anyone attempting to recreate another holocron would fail. And while Sith holocron gatekeepers (and thus the knowledge contained within) tended to decay over time due to the nature of the Dark Side, Jedi holocrons tended to only be susceptible to the elements. This holocron would be different. While the influences of the Dark Side would change it over time, the nature of the Light Side would repair damage and adapt to the change. Like scar tissue over a wound, Aryian the gatekeeper would likely change over time as well. In a way, the Grey Master would go on living for a long time after his physical death. But while he suspected all this, he wasn't entirely certain. And finally, it was done. Aryian shakily rose from where he had sat. His body was in pristine condition, the Force having sustained it while he worked, though mentally he felt as if he'd just lived an entire other lifetime in that span of time. The tetrahedron sat on the floor innocuously, smaller than he thought it would be, slightly larger on one of its identical sides than the palm of his hand. Picking it up, he noticed it was also far more lightweight than he would have thought. For a brief moment as he stared at the thing, he wondered where it would find itself when eventually the light inside it would go out, but just as quickly realized it didn't really matter. And that last thought was very freeing. Faux had been given the task of constructing a lightsaber for herself earlier, and seemed to still be busy with that task. Almost as an afterthought, he drew his own tonfa style lightsaber from his belt, using the Force to dismantle it until all that was left was the crystal at the heart of the device. He'd had many lightsabers over the years of all makes, styles, and colors. Most were prefabricated, made by machines and slightly tweaked by him telekinetically before their first use to ensure there were no problems. These were made for when it was necessary to clone himself, preventing the need to return to the spot where his last incarnation had died to try and retrieve other sabers...or just whenever his last used set was outright destroyed. The tonfa was no exception, it had been part of a pair like most had been, Aryian preferring twin sabers that could interlock to make a staff saber. But on Mandalore, in the middle of their war, he'd had no backup set and had to deal with an injured arm. One of this pair had been given to Tresha Ad'Nort, the other had been remade into the tonfa. But what separated this crystal from the others was it had been with him for a long time, and it held some of his presence within. It would be useful to Faux, a reminder to stay objective in the challenges Aryian knew she would eventually face. It was a kind gesture, but also an important one. Aryian could use just about any lightsaber style he came across, and there were plenty others in the Dojo meant for training. Later he would choose one with a green blade to use, but right now he summoned a small messenger droid to take the crystal to Faux, wherever she was. She would receive it a few minutes later. After the long day's work, Aryian removed his blindfold, finding he could see much better, though some things were still blurry. It was still a remarkable improvement, though, and he decided to leave it off. He found the closest room with a padded floor, one of the smaller sparring pits near the dojo entrance, and promptly fell asleep like he hadn't slept in years.

There would be no sleep for the Grey Master. The Force was restless where he worked, eddies and turbulence and all sorts of physical manifestations occurred as his hands danced over a project he'd worked on on and off for the better part of a decade. He'd never finished it because he'd never had someone worthy of inheriting his knowledge. But now...now things were different. Delicately, he laid the latticework of Ilum crystals in place in the inner housing, securing it with a few stabilizing rods welded to the external framework. The Force guided his movements, only half aware of what he was doing because of his rudimentary understanding of it. The technology was all but lost, primarily the imprinting technique used, but that was why he allowed himself to be guided to such a degree so as to make up for the gaps in his knowledge. After all, the Force was everything, it held forgotten knowledge and ancient secrets, imparting gifts to those skilled enough in tapping into it. After several hours, the physical part was done. While outwardly, the materials, styles and colors was very reminiscent of the Jedi, the shape and activation panel were prominently of Sith design and origin. It was a simple message, really, the person who engineered this holocron had walked both paths, and had found greater peace from following neither. Of course, the activation panel was engineered to react only to someone sensitive in the Force. But right now, it wouldn't work. It was an empty vessel, a beautiful husk. For the first time in a long time, Aryian sat down to meditate. He knew this step was crucial, despite how little he enjoyed meditation. Aryian had long enjoyed more of a living relation with the Force, able to forego most deeper meditations since he was a Knight long ago. Sure, he'd guided others since, and lightly meditated, and made use of Force trances, but it had been some time since he'd revisited the rote steps most pupils took when walking their first steps down training in the Force. He cleared his mind, the easiest step. There was nothing but him and the vastness of the Force. For a moment, he felt like he was being watched, silently observing and silently being observed in return. But the moment passed, and he began to pour himself into the holocron, imprinting every facet of his personality and knowledge onto the device. It was a long process, and it lasted well into the morning.

"No, you're right. Absolutely right. I guess I meant do you trust it more now that you've seen it work for you firsthand, but you can't really trust something that's still largely an unknown. But in time, that trust will come, and you recognize and respect that, which is also important." He took a sip from his water pouch, contemplating something. "I think its time you built your lightsaber. You can keep using the one I gave you, but eventually you should craft one that better fits you, reflects who you are. The weapon is meant to be an extension of self, and that extension includes the design. Come, you've seen enough here for today." They gathered their things, leaving the refinery the same way they came. Nearly half an hour later they found themselves back at the dojo, and Aryian already had drawn up instructions on constructing one on the nearest terminal, transferring them to a datapad for her ease of use. "The hardest thing on the list of supplies you'll need to find will be the focusing crystal. The specifications on what will work and a list of known working materials for that particular part is included, but to be honest you could find a working focusing crystal just about anywhere. This is a construction planet, and it does have vast scrap fields which you may wish to try and navigate to find something suitable. Or, I've given you some credits to work with, you might wind up purchasing some materials straight from the holonet if you so desire. But follow your feelings and instincts. Don't try to force the design to come to you. If something you have is aesthetically pleasing to you, but doesn't feel right, it probably isn't right. Just take your time. Meanwhile, I have another project I'll be working on. Something I should have finished a long time ago." Leaving her with the instructions, Aryian moved on in the dojo, retreating to one of the more private training rooms near his quarters.

"It feels exhausting, certainly. Your mind is exhausted from the concentration required to keep the technique balanced correctly. But, if you had to, you could probably run for a few miles right now and feel just fine. Give yourself a bit, let your mind refresh itself and rest." Aryian pulled a food pouch from his robes, tossing it to her. Always with the food. But, a warrior needed to replace all the calories they burned, and he was pushing her hard. She could deal with it. With a wry grin, he sat down on the catwalk opposite her, pulling out his own food pouch and preparing it. "So, tell me. What is your confidence in the Force now? You've just performed the impossible."

Well, this is the first time this has happened, and I'm going to talk about a few things as opposed to just saying that it was successful and mentioning losses. Firstly, the planning request thing in space is/was unnecessary. The only thing required is the post above to make the official request, which was awesomely done with linking all the setup posts into the request. That is the gold standard, right there. I like the plan you guys had, but to be frank with the amount of forces you brought to the party, the Wookiees never stood a chance even if you had no solid plan. That being said, I think the proper narrative should go as follows: The Sith and Black Sun fleets overwhelm the meager space defenses Kashyyyk can mount against them. While the Wookiees do fight to the bitter end, sacrificing larger numbers to score several smaller victories against the amassed fleet, the attrition is too high in the face of a well-organized and planned strike. The Totenkopf and Doomhandle are both destroyed, but to their masters they were merely necessary sacrifices to achieve the greater goal of control of Kashyyyk. There are also myriad other losses to fighter squadrons and NPC armies, but with control secured, both groups should have the time to lick their wounds and replenish smaller assets before their next major engagement. Should others wish to crash your party in the immediate aftermath, that might be a consideration in the ensuing fight, but the chances of that are slim to none. <>

Gather around, children, warm yourselves by the fire, draw close to your loved ones, and listen well: this is the story of a man who changed the galaxy, a hero among his people, and the greatest pilot to ever live. At least, that's what he thought. Would he live up to all this? Well, you'll just have to find out, won't you? Pay close attention as I recount his tale; The tale of Ohwen Skurr Identity Real Name: He was born as Owhen Skurr, A.K.A: but preferred to refer to himself as "Ace," though few people ever called him that. Homeworld: He was from Duros, Species: A natural born Duro from a family in the upper-middle economic class. Physical Description Age: He was twenty four years old when he set out, Height: a man in his society, standing 6' 3" tall Weight: and weighing a lean 200 pounds. Hair: Being a Duro, he was bald but had typical blue skin, Eyes: red eyes, Sex: and if you've been paying attention, you obviously know he's a male. I know all this is boring now, but it paints an interesting picture, yes? You can see him clearly. More or less. Equipment Clothing or Armor: He tended to wear flight suits, and preferred flashier colors. The more people recognized him as a pilot, the better. Sometimes this worked to his disadvantage, but Ohwen rarely seemed to care. Weapon: After all, if he ever got into a hostile situation, he had an old blaster pistol that never let him down. Common Inventory: And if he ever needed anything, he usually had the credits on him to buy it. Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: And while many among the notable beings in this galaxy have some connection to the Force, as you all know, Ohwen simply didn't. Alignment: But that didn't mean he wasn't simply a servant of the forces of good or evil, he in fact believed in helping others and altruism where he could, but always more from a neutral perspective. He needed to feed and care for himself first before he could tend to others, wouldn't you agree? Current Faction Affiliation: Anyways, Ohwen belonged to no organization, Current Faction Rank: and was nobody of any real note. History: Force Side: Being someone who couldn't feel the Force, he never really identified with one side or the other, Trained by: and obviously was never trained, Trained who: or for that matter trained anyone else Known Skills: or knew anything about the Force at all. Background: Ohwen was instead the typical kind of Duro, one who loved travel and adventure. He operated his own ship and found odd jobs in spaceports, often of the more questionable nature, but there were a few lines he wouldn't cross. Drugs he didn't mind, but weapons for wars and slaves? That was something else. Ohwen didn't believe in these things, he was of the mindset that every being deserved the freedom to make whatever choice they wanted, as long as it didn't hurt anyone else. They were also free to reap the consequences of those choices. The galaxy was largely an unforgiving place, but in the next life they might make better choices, yes? But back to Ohwen. Ship Registration Name: His ship was called the Quasar's Breath, Class: a small cargo freighter, Model: in fact a custom model Manufacturer: made by a Duro company his parents held stock in. Length: It was a smaller vessel, nearly 30 yards in length Armaments: with only two twin laser cannons to defend itself. Armor: It had no extra armor on its hull, Anti-Personnel Defenses: nor anything really preventing anyone from stealing it other than a simple door lock, something that would unfortunately come back to haunt him. Appearance: Modifications: In fact, the only thing that separated this ship from most other Duros vessels, other than its shape and configuration, was how well Ohwen tended to care for the engine, tuning it up whenever he could with new parts he'd buy from his profits off his odd jobs. But you've heard enough about him now, it's time to properly start telling his story. You see, it all starts when he takes an interesting job from a shifty Rodian on Nar Shaddaa.

"Sure. Whatever you need to. If you want to dip your toe in first, metaphorically speaking, at least you're trying, and that's all I ask. I'm here to help should you doubt yourself, you're not alone, but you also need to believe that you can do this on your own. The power is within you, you just need to tap into it and trust the Force." As he spoke, he lent some of his energy to her, subtly, helping to guard any attempt she might make from failure. He would guide her mind, his essence and thoughts gently mingling with hers, withdrawing when she would understand and gain the ability to perform solo. Failure was still a possibility, but Aryian would do everything in his abilities to ensure the penalty for failure wouldn't be severe.

Sandy vs. Karys Firstly, well written, both of you. The imagery and attacks/responses were beautifully done, and I enjoyed my read through. Top points for you both. Tactics, Sandy edges out, largely because of the decision to try and drive the shards deeper (an interesting but very viable strategy if it worked), as well as the bayonet in the end. Karys had good responses in the beginning by simply dodging the first attack (simple, clean, efficient, effective), and also by attacking with a prepared telekinetic blast, an interesting tactic that paid off...the first time. I understand Karys is practically trained at the level of a Lord and is fighting for his Lord title, and Sandy is unofficially fighting to confirm Knighthood despite already holding the rank. At times, it felt like I was reading a fight between two masters, so next time dial it back a bit with the number of actions taken, as well as the complexity of the response. Why exert yourself and use the Force if you can just not be there when the attack is supposed to connect? Conservation of energy can go a long way in a fight like this, where the opponent has exerted themselves more or less by the end, and you continually highlight that in your narration of the differences in fighting styles. I get that you should generally match your opponent in actions taken to adequately defend, but the attacks kind of got out of control by the end there. That being said, I feel like the thrown bayonet by Sandy in her last post was an attack that Karys should have eaten, allowing the wound so as to ensure dominance over his opponent. By reacting the way he did, backflipping after admitting there was no avoiding it, it felt like it pushed the edge of godmoding, especially after coming back with an incredibly powerful Force attack at the end of a Force heavy duel where both combatants are likely to be drained at their respective levels of training. While I respect the effort, it felt like it was just too much. Therefore, Sandy Sarna is the victor and gets the next post. May I recommend that he landed wrong off the backflip, and concussed himself into thinking he did the Force attack? It should provide a long enough stun for her to kill or capture.

"Field trip to the metal refineries." Without another word, they packed into the shuttle, and off it sped. Aryian was quiet during the trip, simply looking out the viewport and surveying the progress Mechis had made as a planet. It had come a long way since the Sith incursion of old, rebuilding and even improving on its technology. In a few minutes, they were at the metal refineries, the entire building operated by large loader droids. Just inside the building was a space meant for humanoids to come observe, complete with a safety scaffold meant for inspectors. Aryian input a few commands at a nearby console, and one of the lumbering behemoths dropped off an over-sized crucible of molten durasteel, ready for inspection. Only then did Aryian speak, taking off his boots as he did so. "The Force is capable of many things, but another primary skill to learn is the ability to manipulate energy. To allow your body to become a conduit so that you can exchange one energy for another. Like heat, for example." With a ginger hop, the aging master jumped straight into the vat, and the Force surged as he delved fully into its caress. His feet met the top of the liquid metal, but due to density, he merely stood on top, bouncing a bit. The durasteel under his feet darkened in color, its heat moving elsewhere. Energy flowed into him through the Force, and he channeled the heat into raw power, his own aura becoming incredibly strong. He spoke from the vat slowly, his concentration taking priority. "It takes a...good deal of focus...but the rewards...are worth it." Aryian slowly climbed up onto the lip of the crucible vat, and then back up onto the safety scaffold, breathing harder but wearing a stupid grin. He hadn't done something that unsafe (but fun) in a long time. "I don't suppose you want to try? We can try here, or nearby there is a steam room. The steam room, at the least, won't kill or seriously injure you if you don't do it on the first try, and I know enough about healing to be able to fix burns."

Aryian's eyebrows raised above his blindfold as he tilted his head to look back down at the cup of caf. That was a tall order. "Well, even with someone who is predisposed to learn as fast as you, that would easily take years. But...I think I have some ideas of where to start. At the least, you should be free to do what you want, in the sense of the Sith. To be free from the Sith through their own means. Ironic, but that's just how things are in our life. So...I will focus first on teaching you how to defend yourself, and how to use the Force effectively for a variety of uses." Aryian finished up his food, mumbling over a mouthful of fake-eggs. "I fink, today, wewr gunna take a baf." He wiped his mouth as he stood, putting the remains of his food pouches in the incinerator receptacle. "Finish up, and meet me on the landing pads. Also, bring a change of clothes." Aryian left her, moving up to the landing pads while sending out a message requesting a planetary transport shuttle from the mainframe that ran everything. It would arrive in minutes, likely before Faux managed to get there, which was fine. Aryian had nothing but time.

Aryian nodded, sipping the hot caf. "That's more or less the basic Jedi curriculum, down to even movements and tasks becoming muscle memory. It's how you can learn to concentrate on multiple things, expanding your mind and splitting your focus as necessary without loss of efficiency. As for the nothing being permanent...that almost swings towards dark side philosophies, but it's a principle I also try to teach, so take that however you will." A thought occurred to him, one he should have had earlier. Clearing his throat, he continued. "There are many things I could teach you. I could teach you to master the Force in a myriad of aspects, I could teach you to be a dervish on the battlefield, or someone who promotes and nurtures life. If you like, I can teach you the beliefs of the Sith, though I will warn that their philosophies are riddled with as many problems as the Jedi beliefs. It would mostly be an academic sense...the Dark Side is...rather addictive to those learning it for the first time. But something we should clarify sooner rather than later is what kind of person do you want to be? You were who you were before your eyes were opened to the wonders of the Force, but now everything has changed whether you realize it or not. You stand at the fork of many paths stretching before you, which one would you walk?"

Aryian swallowed his bite, eyeing her the whole time. He'd forgotten to make coffeine, and they actually had the facilities for that here. He got back up, moving not too far away to begin brewing a pot, addressing her. "Well, we don't exactly have a place around here where we can get fresh meat or produce, but if you like I can arrange a few deliveries. It won't really be cheap, but I haven't really had a cooked meal in forever, so...I suppose it'll be worth it?" He turned to the coffeine pot with a wry grin, summoning a datapad from the next room through the Force. As the brown liquid began brewing, Aryian filled out the pad with a basic list of amenities, sliding the pad to her to make sure he hadn't missed anything. "You know, you have serious natural talent. Just, uh...just thought you should know that. I haven't had an apprentice in a long time who has been able to pick up the basics in a matter of hours. Have you had prior training with meditation or focusing your thoughts or something?" Aryian summoned a glass and the coffeine pot through the Force, pouring himself a steaming hot mug of precious wake-up juice.

"Oh, we absolutely are part of the balancing act. Whether we like it or not. Free will, at the end of all things, matters little. The question is can you allow yourself to live with your actions? We largely create our own morality. But, that's a discussion for another time. You can sleep there, if you like, I'm not going to force you to use a bed, but if you want one just search 'dormitory' on one of the terminals." Aryian waved, walking off and leaving her to get some shut eye. He needed some himself, it had been a long journey from Kashyyyk and training had taken more out of him than he'd expected. He was starting to get out of shape, and if anything training Faux would likely help them both. He found a bed, flopped down, and went to sleep. The next morning, he waited for her in the dining area, heating up premade scrambled eggs in their foil pouches. Not the most appetizing meal, but nutritionally it had everything they would need for most of the day. Then again, so did tree bark...

"Well," he began, "not everyone has a sense of morals or responsibility. The Sith are an Order much like the Jedi, but their philosophy differs greatly. They believe that people owe nothing to anyone else, and the only measure of a person is how free they are, freedom to do anything without repercussion. "The Force, for them, is largely just another means of achieving and maintaining power, and through that power attaining freedom. They focus on selfishness in almost everything, where the Jedi focus on everything but that." Aryian summoned the Force to him, reaching out to telekinetically fetch two packages of dried fruit. It was late, and they hadn't eaten in a while, something to nibble on would suit them well. "And then you have people like me who feel the Force doesn't need to be bottlenecked into purpose, that what is, simply is, and that there are machinations in place to keep the galaxy balanced."

It took a while in the medbay, and there was still a bit of pain to it, but with a few smaller bacta patches in place, Aryian could use his right arm again. His eyesight was dull, but returning slowly. Sometime soon, he'd need to return to the Jedi and get a healer to help fix whatever was wrong with him. He had no problem connecting to the Force, but it still refused to aid his natural healing processes. Still blindfolded, he wandered the dojo, finding Faux hunched over a datapad sitting in a window. The material she was studying was stuff he could have easily explained, but he marveled at how she was so eager to just learn. Approaching her, he spoke up, his tone dry as he wore a wry smile. "Having fun?"

Aryian smirked, his blindfold hiding his gaze. "We can stop, if you like. Did you feel it, though? Not the training remote, the feeling right before. Almost like your body wanted to move on its own accord? That was the Force. Listen to it always, and it may save your life one day." Her attention now focused on the remote, he deactivated it through the Force and tossed it to her. It had expended its training value in this lesson, but would be useful for her later studies. "Keep it on setting one, and try to catch or dodge its shots while your eyes are closed. If you need to, use a blindfold. You know enough now that you should be able to, you just need to trust in yourself...and trust in the Force. When you're done, that's it for the day. I'm going to the medical bay to try and see if my arm is any better." He deactivated his lightsaber, returning it to the original settings, and walked off towards the great hall. He had faith in her...but did she?

After reviewing the duel between Brad and Grigor, Adik, and Faen (Controlled by Raynuk Montar), I have come to the following decision: Due to the positioning in the end, Brad has almost no offensive capacity left other than his bare fists. Adik is the only viable fighter left standing, and has hurled a knife at Brad, but the concession should be made that Brad has also successfully taken out two others, and is still capable of further combat. As such, I think that it is prudent that this duel end in a Draw. This is only the second draw I've ever handed out, and despite Raynuk's nimble maneuvering with three NPCs, I feel Sanity handled the fight on their end quite well given the initial odds. But at the end of the duel, when all the cards are on the table, there isn't really anything that points to one party holding an advantage over the other, except perhaps in writing quality (but to my understanding, this was mostly for training purposes anyways, so I didn't make that consideration, and when I do it mostly concerns the issues I will address below). Sanity, You may wish to consider using more imagery in your posts, as it can help the reader get a better grasp on actions, setting, and reasoning. Especially when those readers are the Mods when it comes to posts that will require rulings, like these. Consider how your character felt and reacted, consider how the environment looked, consider enhancing action sentences with more vivid description. You did a good job with the basics of "He did this" without being vague, but there is room for improvement, and in duels you find yourself in the future it can make all the difference. There is a duel simulation subforum found at the top of this forum where you can find examples of duels, or even set some up for practice if you like. The rules there can be bent or broken as they have no bearing on IC content, but they should equally apply to all combatant parties. Otherwise, very good effort of choreographed action. Sanity gets the next post. May I recommend reacting to the thrown knife? Anything else is up to you.