Phu

[ObliviousKnight]

After Malcolm interrupted his own meditative trance by speaking, I followed suit more gracefully, falling out of the Force with nothing more abrupt than a slight quickening of my breath and opening his eyes. He clearly didn't know what to think””the frown on his face was sufficient evidence of that””and even after his attention had wandered all creation, he couldn't quite comprehend what it meant, for me to hold a unique life within my own body.

 

Or perhaps he simply couldn't see me in that light, as a living woman whose ambitions were far more mundane than the ideals of the Jedi Order. I was still the Jedi Grandmaster to him.

 

”œYes?”

[BLACK1]

A comm comes in for Armiena Darkfire.

 

--Comm--

 

His Majesty the Emperor requests your presence at his residence on Coruscant to discuss the current Arach'tar matter. Time is, of course, of the essence. All parties are given general amnesty and a truce is declared and enforced during this alien invasion.

 

--End Comm--

[ObliviousKnight]

While I waited for Malcolm to reason out what he had sensed while connected to the Force in meditation, my left hand, operating on no conscious command of my own, plucked my datapad from my belt and began to tap keys seemingly at random. It was incredibly disturbing to watch, but somehow my hand knew exactly what it was doing, accessing my messages and sending a few of its own.

 

Its spelling didn't seem to be top-notch, however.

 

________________________________

 

Aryian Darkfire received a brief message. Attached to it was the comm. from the Emperor, whoever was playing that role now. He hadn't identified himself, but he didn't sound anything like Faust..

 

Aryin, luv, I won't be able to attend, & I know you wouldn't want me to, considring how many imps & Sith wil be there. Can u go to 000 in my absence?

 

If so, pls record teh meeting, sight, sound, everthing you can.

 

__________________________________

 

Another sixteen of the probes that were initially constructed were built and cast out to the stars.

 

And similarly, a number of droid-piloted transports were launched from the hangar and similar scattered across the galaxy, apparently on a "resource gathering mission.”

[Ary the Grey]

Aryian chuckled at his wife's poor attempt at spelling as he got the message. She must have been busy when she sent it, and she was certainly right, he wouldn't have let her go, but a remote holotransmission was something entirely different.

 

But, he was bored. Plainly put.

 

As he made his way down to the hangar, he could remember how the Blur would warm itself up through his implant connection, preparing for a takeoff, when he wanted it to. Not this time...he wasn't about to risk his best ship, even if it were here. Besides, this was a mission of diplomacy, not firepower. He chose an old A-wing instead, at least liking the fact that he had the speed, but as far as armaments it was pretty shoddy. As soon as he prepped the Bloody Angel for the trip he engaged the repulsors, sliding himself out of the hangar on a cushion of controlled antigrav, then engaged the engines at full throttle to slingshot him amongst the stars.

 

 

Coruscant was but a nap away...

[Malcolm Derrial]

(OOC: Ha ha... Tied down for a bit. Or was it "up?" I can't remember. Anyway, back again with apologies.)

 

Malcolm watched his master type distractedly into a datapad. There was something odd about her motions, but he could not place it. He was more concerned about the 'egg' metaphor the force had shown him. Was she pregnant? Or was it symbolic of the eventual birth of a new era for the Jedi, or even the galaxy? Malcolm's brain raced through progressively less probable explanations. He certainly was not going to suggest something as potentially scandalous as pregnancy, at least not without clearer evidence.

 

"Nothing... Well, I saw things more vividly that time, and I wasn't prepared for that much clarity."

 

His glance moved across Armenia's stomach to the datapad at her side.

 

"Is everything alright?"

[ObliviousKnight]

”œOh, for Force's”¦”

[Malcolm Derrial]

Malcolm both grinned and blushed at once.

 

"Ah, well.. Congratulations!"

 

So much for platonic union and all that.

 

"So... Have you picked out a name?"

 

Perhaps this will be a new era for the Jedi after all.

 

A cold, somewhat childish fear suddenly seized Malcolm by the spine.

 

"Aren't you worried about Kakuto Ryu? They say he's not even human any more, and that he comes to prominent pregnant women to eat their babies! They told us back at the temple that we shouldn't... erm... copulate, if only because it invites a visit from the sithspawn, and all the pain, despair, and disease-ridden vomit he brings with him!"

 

Malcolm shuddered, remembering the holo-records he had stumbled across on the legendary monster. There was more to this than spook stories from chastity-addled Jedi matrons.

[ObliviousKnight]

I tried. I really did. But despite my best efforts to treat the fact that Kakuto Ryu had been transformed into something resembling the ”œrefresher drain monster”

[Malcolm Derrial]

Malcolm nodded resolutely. A place like Phu was an ideal refuge from demonic infanticidal cannibals, and she was the grand master.

 

As his master slipped into an apparent nap, he adjusted his posture and began to meditate. Slowly, the brilliant lens of the force came back into view, full of shifting patterns and subtle hues normally outside the visible spectrum. Malcolm had a long way to go before he'd understand a tenth of what he was seeing, but the visual display alone could keep him entertained for hours, and the song... Well, it could bring tears to his eyes.

 

He sat entranced for a few minutes before he began to feel centered. Curious, he directed his sight toward his master, and again observed the "egg" metaphor. Now it was more clearly a child. Malcolm filed that away, hoping to recognize it more immediately in the future, and wondering if a male child would be visibly different.

 

Stay on target...

 

The wind seemed the best focus for telekinesis. He seized upon the ephemeral pattern of the breeze, shifting the atoms in a thousand shimmering currents. He found a stray leaf, and made it the whole of his being, feeling each current as a separate wave of pressure, jointly working to decide his fate.

 

Now what? Try to will in a new current? Flex the leaf: change the pressured surface? Redirect existing currents?

 

Malcolm's mind stayed with the leaf as he tried to figure out his next move. Observing the leaf was easy, in fact it was absolutely exhilarating. Altering the leaf or its environment was different. It felt... invasive. He had to figure out what would take the least amount of force manipulation; the least amount of hubris.

 

Flex the leaf. It already bends.

 

At that moment, the song changed. Malcolm had been so visually oriented during this task that he had practically stopped listening. But now it was clear. The leaf did not flex. But something had, and the song was now a different kind of wind; whistling in his ears.

 

It quickly became apparent to Malcolm that he had sprung directly off of the branch and into space.

 

Ha ha... I'm an idiot! You can't flex something that doesn't have muscles!

 

Malcolm was plummeting a little faster (and a little more face-first) than he liked. Still, in his state, things seemed slower, giving him time to contemplate his error. He examined himself. He had a slight drift away from the tree, which he could perhaps turn into a roll. His upward lift had already succumbed to gravity, which was now powering through air resistance like a lightsaber through parchment.

 

Well, let's try this again.

 

He saw the physics diagram in his head. The planet was huge, and that was a bit of an obstacle for him to combat the gravity. The air, however, was more flexible. He spread out, maximizing his surface area and putting all his will into gathering a cushion of air, which he then, in desperation, pushed at the ground. He saw the grass ripple and grinned with satisfaction before slamming into the ground.

 

"Hua-, hua-, huah."

 

Malcolm hacked up a gasping laugh and waited for the air to return to his lungs.

[ObliviousKnight]

If Malcolm were to look up, he would have seen a smirk on my face and laughter in my eyes. ”œI've always found that there's nothing quite like nearly dying to inspire success.”

[Darth Furion]

The correspondance is returned as Armiena Darkfire receives a new message, thoroughly encrypted of course.

• Dear Armiena,
   
  I believe you misunderstand my concept of total freedom. Only one person could be truly free at any given time. If there were any others, they would be able to stand against them, and thus must be conquered. Of course complete freedom galaxy wide would be a disaster. Some, if not most, sentients are not capable of wielding such power. It's true, power corrupts. However there are ways around such corruption, if you understand certain truths. But as we both know, the truth is relative.
   
  I'm afraid that our time together must come to an end. I believe our conversations have gone about as far as they can go. I'm not entirely sure what either of us hoped to achieve, but I think we've gotten as much as we're going to get. When struck with the epiphany, do come and see me, will you? There's much I'd love to show you.
   
  With love,
   
  Julio Furion
   
  P.S.
   
  You're job is to craft my doom, so I'm not sure how well I should wish you. But I'm sure we'll have lots of fun. Ta-ta.
   
  -J

[ObliviousKnight]

((Uh, you there? It's been over a week.))

 

It was a time for epic battles. Volleys of weapons powerful enough to reduce star cruisers to dust were exchanged every minute, champions of justice clashed steel weapons on rocky highlands, and frozen plains became killzones as their surfaces were swept with anti-personnel and anti-armor artillery. Battle cries were screamed. Squads of metal soldiers stormed through cavernous chambers, blasting everything that moved with a combination of blasters and anti-droid projectiles. Every once in a while, a warrior that had been overwhelmed by enemy fire surged into opposing ranks and triggered its self-destruct, detonating its entire cache of ammunition to maximize the damage it caused in its death throes.

 

The Wolf Spiders of Phu were conducting simulated battles of the surface of Ilum. The intelligence was slightly outdated, but the tactics that were ruled by the terrain would remain constant. And besides, the droids were built for battle, and they enjoyed the training.

[Ary the Grey]

The E-wing pulled out of hyperspace, deftly landing in one of Phu's numerous hangars, the one Aryian commonly used. The Blur pulled out of hyperspace alongside them, landing in the same hangar as Saladin.

 

The two occupants disembarked, heading for the train system that would take them deep into the heart of the mountain, to the facility beneath. He spoke as he walked, not really looking towards Luqen.

 

"I assume you have many questions...you may ask them now."

[Luqen]

Luqen had a great many questions, and he lacked the patience at the present moment in time to regulate space between them. They poured forth from his mouth in a torrent unchecked, a notice of just how exhausted he truly was.

 

"When will we train if there's the current threat, as you say? What will you have me do about it? I will not stay aside as you fight another war...as you die again. I will not. Am I to wield the lightsaber of my Master for nothing? Why am I having these lapses...these memories...they aren't mine! I...am in the dark...they aren't mine!"

 

His breath left him and for a horrifying moment he lost his balance, falling to one knee. He could feel blood at the back of his mouth. Had he bitten his tongue? No. It was the bile of his mind's violent synapses. He was being selfish...but he knew that if he had time to dedicate to training, he could walk into battle against any threat and know he had something to offer...something worth while...of value.

[Ary the Grey]

((I am VERY tempted to start into some tirade from the Matrix completely out of character, but I need to set the example. Sooo...no funnies for you.))

 

 

Aryian sat down in the train car staring Luqen in the eye, and began speaking a beat after he finished, not wasting a moment of time.

 

"We will begin training when we can, I will teach you what I am able. Right now, I have lost my command of the Force, it's a long story, so just try to understand. I'm still significantly good with the Saber, enough to teach you several good techniques before we assault Ilum. As for that, I can assure you that life or die it will all be for the better. I am fighting not for the Jedi or for the people of the galaxy, but for my wife and my unborn child. This fact alone fuels me to drive on, to finish what I began. If I die, it will be an honorable death, one worth remembering, not a coward who hid and was killed in the night by an enemy he refused to oppose. If I live, then it is another day I can enjoy my family. This is why I asked you to remember what you hold dear...because it is these things that we should be driven by, the things that deserve our attention the most. I'm not preaching the dark side at all...I'm a shining example of that fact. But I am saying listen to your heart as well as your brain.

 

"As for your memories...those are mine. I gave them to you, if you don't remember. They're probably fractured and broken, you would only know a rudimentary form of the lightsaber styles I imparted to you through raw thought imprintation, but it is enough to begin the next phase of your combat training. Which is what we are here to do. I need to mass another arsenal, train you, and do all this before the assault on Ilum begins. If you're ready, then you may come. If not...it is still your choice. Like I said, the drive of those you care for is strong...it can push you past your limits, beyond anything you thought possible. Through the Force, all things exist."

 

He grunted, cracking his back and giving it a moment to sink in. They were nearing the Temple, but still had some time.

 

"Anything else?"

[Luqen]

(That ice cream synapse in Space was hilarious, by the way.)

 

Luqen slid into the seat opposite Aryian, closing his eyes and listening to his Master's explanation. He had lost his connection to the Force, he said, his connection to the thing that was already becoming the mother Luqen never had to nurture him. And yet Aryian Darkfire was still had wisdom in amounts greater than anyone else Luqen had spoken with in his lifetime.

 

"Anything else?"

 

Luqen didn't respond immediately. Aryian knew enough to recognize that he wasn't asleep, even though his breathing was deep, his eyes closed and relaxed. He was remembering. He had a few small beacons of light from years long past, a few small shards of happiness. Nar Shaddaa was the most unlikely place, but it had given to him the only joy he'd ever known until he'd been taught how to empty himself.

 

Until I learned what it felt like to be free of myself, to be something more.

 

"Yeah," he said, his lips turning up in a slight, humorous grin. "Where can I get some robes like yours?"

[Ary the Grey]

The train hissed to a stop, the doors opening to a small room with a bottleneck exit. It was designed that way on purpose, but the room past that was fairly expansive and impressive.

 

"Robes you can find in the rooms here, or in the storage bays. I'm giving you a bit of time to get settled, eat, bathe, do what you need. Return here when you're ready, your training begins then. Bring your lightsaber, you'll need it."

 

Aryian walked off towards a wall, sitting down into a crosslegged lotus position to meditate and focus his mind. Just because the Force was absent from him didn't mean he had forgotten the helpful techniques to prepare the mind for combat...

 

 

((Shhh! Good example! Good example!!!))

[Luqen]

Luqen's eyes widened as if to encompass the entirety of the space before him, a feat that was impossible to say it simply. With his Master's next words came his immediate challenge, internalized and not spoken. He wanted to say that he was ready now, but he had not bathed in days, his wounds needed to be cleaned again (at this thought, he put a hand under his cloak, which had hidden the wound on his shoulder), and he did want to get out of these clothes and into robes.

 

Luqen's trail led to the rooms along a hallway. He was lost soon enough within the tangle of this new location, and he had to seek out someone to show him the way. There was no one here...only droids, and inevitably he found himself asking one of them. He was led immediately to a bathing room and told he would be brought clothing.

 

The water was his food. He was not hungry in the slightest, at least not in that sense. He had, he could say, hungered for this warmth. Warm water was always a reassurance. When he was done, there were indeed new robes waiting for him. Apparently, the aide had taken the liberty of choosing colors, and so he found himself wearing the robes of a Jedi with all their folds (though he noticed the style of these was slightly different than those of his Master) and whatnot, with the upper body robes of a generally dark shade of gray and the thinner robes beneath of brown, and the pants being of white. The lengthy sleeves, the snug body, the fitting pants; all were comfortable, finely fitting, as if they'd been tailored for him. As he slipped his feet into the pair of knee-high, dark gray boots and buckled them to his leg, he thought of what he might look like, and sought out a mirror. There was a large outer robe of moderate brown, with the great hoods commonly seen, laying out as well, but he chose simply to come back for this later.

 

Embarassment; he'd forgotten to put on the belt. It was simple, with two small pouches (presently empty) for whatever he might put in, and a clip. That was where the boy hung the weapon that belonged to the Master, and when he looked in the mirror, looked into those silver eyes staring back at him, he realized he was not the same as he'd been when he had first arrived on Ilum...

 

A figure stood before Aryian Darkfire. Something new. This serene figure gazed at his Master and said, "I am ready."

[Ary the Grey]

"Are you?"

 

The Master moved impossibly fast for a man of his age. Even without the Force, his body was still in peak condition, and it showed exquisitely through his graceful actions. The lightsaber ignited mid swing as Aryian bore down upon his own Padawan, the blade hissing effortlessly through the air in an attempt to decapitate the young man. Aryian's form was flawless, even after all these years, not even being disconnected from the Force could phase him. It only meant he wouldn't be able to rely on it, but that was all...he had trained on Myrkr, he had studied the Echani and Mandalorian forms of martial arts. In his opinion, Luqen didn't stand a chance.

 

But then again, that was why they were there in the first place. And if Luqen didn't act soon, he just might find himself waking up in a cloning cylinder.

[Luqen]

In some distant future that could be, Luqen would be training his own Padawan. They would speak of combat, they would spar, they would fight, and somewhere along the way, Luqen would teach the Padawan to follow his instincts. He would only ever think of one moment to give as an example of how instinct is what comes between life and death.

 

Without a flicker of hesitance, the lightsaber came up from his belt and met that of his Master at the last possible instant. Aryian's momentum, his ferocious speed and the brutal reality of the strike hit Luqen an instant after, sending him flying backwards. Spiralling through the air, he barely managed to twist his body about and land in something close to proper form, his foot slipping slightly on something unseen as he stood.

 

His eyes betrayed his own surprise at having been able to accomplish a defense against what had been altogether incredibly unexpected. He was lucky. He could have truly been killed. To lose his life...to be threatened...Luqen's surprise increased tenfold when he realized that he was not even angry at his Master. He was happy.

 

His lips tilted upwards into the smile of one who would dare the devil, and his eyes set on his Master. Luqen was a fighter, through and through. His passion was already beginning to leak from him, a sweet nectar being drawn out by the Force surrounding him. His Master was fast, ridiculously so, beyond anything Luqen had seen yet. But Luqen was also fast, and also very ready to throw himself at his Master.

 

Which he did then, with a great rush and a twist of his arms, a blur against the background.

[ObliviousKnight]

Silence was the only response to the salvo of questions I launched at my Padawan. Curious, but still concerned, I prodded Malcolm's back with a firm finger, but failed to elicit a response. Almost automatically, I began going through a well-rehearsed checklist to make sure he was alright, aside from his apparent unconsciousness. He was breathing without difficulty, his heart rate was normal””though a little quick, but that could be chalked up to falling from the tree. He didn't even seem to be suffering from a concussion. The Force only confirmed the fact that he seemed to be perfectly fine”¦ aside from the fact that he was completely unresponsive.

 

Weird.

 

Under other conditions, I wouldn't have moved him unless our lives were in danger, but Malcolm seemed to be healthy. ”œYou're lucky you're so light, or”¦”

[Ary the Grey]

The old man's eyes tracked his Padawan easily. He had tapped into the Force, and that coupled with Aryian's memories and a fighter's spirit improved upon his skill tenfold. But it was nothing when met with raw experience.

 

"Good."

 

Their blades crashed together, screaming sparks of agony erupting from the touching energy blades as the discharged energy sputtered and popped with evey strike, each move seemingly choreographed into a beautiful harmonious dance. Aryian had not opted to train this Padawan as he had trained the others, with training sabers that were non-lethal, as they often detracted from the seriousness of the situation. This, however, was very serious. They were about to go into battle. Should it come down to it, Luqen could very possibly save his life.

 

The speeding sounds of the strikes echoed around the room, giving the sensation of being surrounded by a wildfire. Their minds were focused, honed, Aryian knew this dance well. After a moment of traded blows, they ended in a lock, each blade connected low towards the hilt, their owner struggling to shove the other away, a move that was notoriously difficult to break without leaving the person attempting to break it open to attack. But the Master showed little to no effort...this was just another scenario he had been through before, whereas Luqen might not understand fully how to handle the situation.

 

"Open yourself fully to the Force...allow it to guide you, to control you. Don't think twice...follow its flows. I remember well, Luqen, you have this power within you."

 

Aryian let up slightly on his pressure, throwing Luqen slightly off balance forward for a second as Aryian fell backwards, planting a foot on his stomach as the Padawan fell forwards, kicking up strongly and catapulting the young man far behind him as he got up again, resuming his traditional low Soresu stance, completely ready to move and intercept any lightsaber attack.

 

"Get up. Think, Luqen...and strike me."

[Luqen]

Sucked into the eye of the storm, the Padawan had thought he had found a place to pause and study his Master, only to find that the storm moved quickly. It caught him blindly and he landed hard for it. He got to his feet and turned, and the stance of his Master sparked a memory he was sure he was incorporating into his own. He had seen this stance before...it was the one that he knew how to move from most easily, the one, it seemed, his Master had at the forefront of his mind when he'd imparted his memories to Luqen.

 

But there were others. Small, slight, they were flickering candles in a barren field, on the horizon of Luqen's sight, but he knew he could pick them out. How best to get around his Master's superior guard, without sacrificing his defense? He would not win against his Master's strength, honed as it was by years of activity. The moment the word he searched for came to mind, Luqen saw the stance, the opening, vague flashes of movement that were incomplete and too fast for his mind to follow perfectly, or even well. But he saw it enough. Besides, he liked to take risks.

 

Luqen spread his feet to the shoulders, bending his forward knee slightly, and pointed his lightsaber upwards diagonally to the right, tilting his left shoulder a bit towards his Master. He could not see far into whatever images he knew from the past that was now his to wield, his to suffer, his to endure; he knew only that this stance was the prelude to a style of speed.

 

Luqen attacked once more, his lightsaber twirling in his hands, slicing through the air and time itself.

[Ary the Grey]

Aryian easily saw what Luqen was doing, and deftly deflected each stroke as if he knew where it was going to be before it was there. Then again...he did.

 

"You forget whose memories you draw upon, Luqen. I said open yourself to the Force...quit resisting."

 

The opening was easy enough to see, small as it was in his own moves, and Aryian deftly took it, deflecting Luqen's saber to one side at the opportune moment when his handle on it was weak from a backswing, and quickly spinning in to slam an elbow into his chest, again knocking him down.

 

"If you want to beat me, you're going to have to do much better than that. If you want to survive the Arach'Tar, you're going to have to beat me blindfolded. Now get up."

 

Aryian saw his wife standing in the doorway as he glanced away for only a moment, but quickly his gaze returned back to Luqen. The mere presence of her affected his thought process, however...instead of focusing on his Padawan, the Master's thoughts dwelled now on his wife...his unborn daughter...and what might happen were he to fail.

[Luqen]

Open, open, open, to the force, to the soul. Create a window, unlatch it, open it up and let the birds fly in, flutter about within the canopy of your mind. Watch them, speak with them, let them land upon your oustretched hand. When they fly out the window, let them carry you...and fly away.

 

Luqen's eyes flashed open and he shot up from the ground. He felt a great rush behind him as he righted himself, immediately blasting off of his back foot. His entire body was moving blindingly, a bolt of gray and a sword of silver, flashing alongside the intensity of his eyes. The Force...to open oneself to it was to create a conduit for a power few understood completely, and many believed they understood more than was truly so. Luqen did not yet understand, but he knew what he felt, and he knew that his swing was as fast as he'd seen his Master ever move.

[Ary the Grey]

His only clue had been the slight amount of motion, his thoughts were elsewhere. With his wife...with those he loved. Those he would gladly die for.

 

The blow skimmed Aryian's shoulder, singing flesh and carrying a foul burnt stench into the air. The Master recoiled, the pain completely throwing him off as he retreated, clutching his right shoulder with his free arm and wincing. The Force could not alleviate his pain as it had done in the times past, he would have to deal with it, deal with humanity, unlike ever before. The boy had done what was asked of him, and yet, it incited a spark of fear within Aryian. A spark of anger.

 

The Master looked up, and he no longer saw Luqen before him. Instead he saw the Arach'Tar threatening Phu with impossible numbers, he saw innocents put to the slaughter, he saw the Sith Master Exodus laughing at the weakened man who dared think he could defend the Grandmaster. He saw the body of a small female infant...still and silent. His child. And with a warcry the Master plunged back into the fray, ignoring the pain, distracting himself from it by instead intimately realizing what could happen if he lost. What would happen if he lost. And he could not afford to lose.

 

It was all Luqen could do to defend against the onslaught, the Master came at him like a beast from hell, the lightsaber strikes drawn more from Vaapad than Soresu, random and unconnected yet sequenced and deadly. For a moment he held his own as Aryian advanced, chasing him back with deft footwork and intense swordsmanship, but after that moment the Padawan's lightsaber was parried away, leaving him defenseless as Aryian raised his own instrument of death over his head, panting heavily with an angry crazed look on his face and fully ready to deliver the killing strike.

 

When everything seemed to dissolve around him again. This was no Sith Master...it was merely his Padawan. Someone...someone he had almost killed. Like his childhood friend. The same act of darkness that had revealed his inner demons long ago and had him expelled from the Order...times were different now, but the issue was still the same. He relaxed finally, taking a deep breath and recomposing himself. With decided effort, he disignited the silver blade, his arm drooping back to his side as the stinging pain echoing from his shoulder once again rippled across his mind like an insect crawling across the flesh of someone tied down...it was something he could no longer ignore.

 

"Good...good. This, ah...this lesson is done for the time being. We will work on form later. Let's move on to unarmed combat for now."

 

He glanced at his wife momentarily, noting the mild concerned look on her face, and quickly broke the gaze, not willing to admit just yet what had happened. This was serious, something he needed to think about later. But not now...now was not the time.

[Luqen]

Luqen had been bitten by the whip of Death. He had thrown himself back, away from its flashing fangs, but he'd been hit and it stung. Even now, he wasn't sure whether or not his Master had been acting purposefully in those few moments. He was even more unsure because, upon seeing his Master move in the way he had, attacking the way that he did, the blurry edges of the memories of what Luqen had just tried to do, how he had attempted to combat his Master, were filled in. Aryian's speed, the randomness of the deadly tapestry he had painted was that which Luqen saw in his mind.

 

He decided, rather pointedly, that this style was the one he would learn, no matter how long it took him. Had he not had that burst of energy within him still raging, he would have been killed in the first second of his Master's counter. Luqen's own silver blade dissolved into nothing and he set it down to one side.

 

Unarmed combat, his Master said. Hand-to-hand; he would show much more skill here than he just had, he knew. The style of his culture was one that could be mastered by anyone...but he was Echani, and he had the soul that those not of his kind lacked. Anyone could fight with the style he fought with, but he lived the style. It was his soul and his soul was bound to it for all time.

 

Deciding that he would risk provoking another outburst, believing that, if it happened, he would be better suited to deal with it when Aryian was unarmed, Luqen lunged forward. The air parted around his body as he melted away, sinking into the depths of his mind, his body moving without conscious thought. His limbs were like strands of hair tossed about in the wind as they whipped up, flashing in what seemed like all directions at once towards the figure that was his Master.

[Ary the Grey]

The pupils in the eyes of the Master dilated as his Padawan attacked. He was impressed and proud of Luqen's passion and eagerness, but was still mildly annoyed that he had begun without the Master's signal. His body reacted without thought, without feeling, diving to the left and shoulder-rolling into a crouch, his shoulder sending him mild shocks of pain as it was jostled. The style was Mandalorian, primitive, powerful, aggressive, and yet equally gracefully effective as much as Luqen's Echani movements. They were both styles the Master had bothered to learn, and from the lower-tier movements Aryian could tell Luqen was experienced, but not as well learned.

 

Aryian's left hand balled into a fist as he tilted his head to one side then the other, the cracks of the vertebrae realigning themselves echoing hollowly across the room's expanse. His right arm came up as he flexed his muscles, his palm outstretched and flat. And with a grin, he motioned with his hand for Luqen to bring on the heat.

 

"Show me what you've got...but easy on the shoulder."

[Luqen]

Mandolorian.

 

Luqen doubted his Master knew the irritation the Padawan felt stir within him at the realization that the style Aryian was using was exactly that of the people the Echani sat opposite of on the wheel of the universe. The very thought of it drove him deeper into concentration, and though he did not acknowledge that he heard his Master's words, he did hear them and he knew he would not attack that shoulder.

 

Luqen faced his Master boldly. He had only mastered the first two Tiers of his style, but he had mastered them completely, until the only room for growth was in physical conditioning, and he had plenty of that. He'd even gone foraging through the great expanse of the third Tier, much of it on his own, as the only two people he knew of that could complete that formal training were gone from him. It would take twice as long on his own, he knew that much.

 

Luqen's feet exploded off the ground, and he felt a subconscious burst behind him, an aide, it seemed, as his body flipped high off of the ground, his legs transferring smoothly from straight and connected to split, his body spiralling as he sent his feet crashing towards Aryian in a deft and deadly dance through the air. He was a feather uplifted, a leaf tossed on the wind of the very storm he had let draw him in earlier.

 

Fly out with the birds, fly free.

[Ary the Grey]

Aryian smirked, his low crouch stance allowing him to easily move right a little to avoid Luqen's strike. As his Padawan's feet touched the ground, his left fist lashed out, striking him with a powerful blow in the side of his knee. Aryian sprang away, rolling again into another crouched guard. It would hurt, but it taught a valuable lesson.

 

"First thing's first, remain on the ground. Just trust me with that."