Jarin Silocen

This was...odd. Life spent in the temple had been simple, casual save for the few times in his youth where the galaxy's misanthropists had chosen it for their desecration. But back then he was much younger, too young to fully understand what was truly going on around him. He would sit in a circle, meditating with the other children as wanton slaughter and mayhem unfolded just outside the room, their soft spoken master uneasily staring at the door. But now, now he was older, his presence in the force no longer light enough to be claimed as a crutch, now he had to stand up for what he believed and use his power for the greater good no matter how little power that was. It was this belief, this zealous fervor that was the base of his courage even in such a disastrous situation. As uncountable volts surged through his body it was not the pain that grabbed his attention, but the realization that all of this was far more than he was prepared for. The pain, the struggle, the complete differences in ideas of right and wrong brought about a harsh realization of how much he had yet to learn. Sailing through the air Trip found himself strangely at peace. The pain had been intense, so much that it had seemed that his whole existence was composed of nothing but pain. But with that it had brought a moment of clarity. The pain had been so intense that it removed every other thought or feeling from his mind. Now, coasting idly though the air toward wherever the current carried him, the constant pain was gone and all that left was him and the force. Extending awareness beyond that of himself, Trip could feel his fellow Jedi surrounding the assailant, moving to restrain the individual as best as they could. It wasn't going to be enough. He knew that this bounty hunter wouldn't give up just because he was held down. He fought with the same zeal Trip did, his belief in the matter rock solid. To the hunter, Xae had to die, even if it cost him his life. No, he had to be stopped here and now. Shifting himself mid air, Trip moved so that his feet were pointing toward the temple wall he seemed to be flying at. As he sailed he beckoned the clarity to him, ushering the force in him and around him so that he may stop this homicidal attempt before anymore of his fellow Jedi could be harmed. Reaching the wall, Trip focused and redirected the calming energies within himself into one hard kick off of the temple. The kick had been at an angle, sending the young Jedi high into the air above the hunter and circling Jedi, and even knocking loose a few large chunks of stone away from the wall. As he flew ever higher he summoned the stones with him. When he reached the crescendo of his ascent Trip cast his arms toward the prone hunter, sending the four large stones and uncountable small stone shards downward at an ever increasing speed. This would stop, now, before any other innocents were harmed. Even at the cost of this hunter's life. ((3))

He had only enough time to parry the bounty hunter's quick slices when it hit him. It was like a punch all over his chest. The hunter had activated his jet pack, throwing himself forward very quickly. Add to the fact that he was wearing full plate armor, and there was very little do to change the man's flight with that much inertia behind it. For a moment the two sailed harmlessly through the air, but once gravity took hold the unforgiving stone floor of the temple rose up to meet the young hopeful. As the two glided for several feet, all Trip could think about was how thankful he was the temple floors were as smooth and polished as they were. The decorational stone had been imported from the best marble mines in the galaxy, and for once Trip didn't question the cost of aesthetics. As the pair began to slow down, the hunter did something...odd. Utilizing the momentum of the launch he pulled himself forward in a flip. That wasn't the odd thing. Actually that was a bold tactical maneuver, but what he did at the same time was something wholly different. He kept hold of Trip's staff, jerking it upward in a rough stroke, as if he tried to pull the Jedi with him. His muscles sore and beaten, Trip was momentarily dazed, unable to keep his warrior grip on his staff. Instead of taking him with him, all the hunter was able to do was rip the staff out of Trip's hand. Coincidentally, the pair of blasters that trip had previously taken from the hunter were still hanging on the staff when the two collided. When the hunter vigorously flung the staff over head, he sent his blasters sailing once again in the air, this time much higher than Trip's previous blow had sent them. After landing deftly from his flip, the hunter had decided to leave Trip alone for one reason or another, possibly thinking the collision had been enough to put him out of the game for a short time. For a while Trip just laid their, his muscles screaming for rest, but the sight of two small black objects falling from the sky told him to move. As he stood he could feel the other Jedi moving, each playing their part, each utilizing what little training they had to maximum efficiency. One, who studied plants much like Trip, ushered life into vines, making them grow with rapid intensity around the hunter's feet. Another could be felt in the undertones, coaxing the hunter's mind to reveal its secrets while Xae and the other two took a defensive position, all equally spread out from the hunter. He would be going primarily after Xae, this much was certain, so if they could keep his attention on her, it would be easy to subdue him. Trip looked up, extending his hands to the sky. Redirecting the blasters' fall so they would land properly in his hands, he grabbed the guns out of the air and leveled hem at the large pack on the hunters back. Aiming at the pair of fuel canisters linking to both his arms, Trip deftly fired, willing the force to steady his aim. After the initial blasts, Trip began to pepper the blaster pack on the hunter's back, taking large steps back to avoid the rapidly increasing chance of an explosion. ((2. And its not really stacking the deck when you assault a Jedi in a Jedi temple. Others are bound to notice and, given the nature of Jedi, very likely to help. Its just common sense.))

A light sigh escaped him as he abruptly awoke from meditation once again. As chaotic as it was, the mood of the temple had been something of a peaceful one. People, Jedi and civilians alike were buzzing alive with duty, droids whirring as their motivators worked in excess, even the cool stone comprising the temple itself held a steady rhythm of calm progress, but there was something else here, something mingled in the crowd of many that broke the loud serenity. It was a sense of duty, wholly different from the rest of the temple. This one ran with aggression wrapped neatly around it, like a murderous present begrudgingly given. For a moment, Trip remained locked in his seated position, eyes still locked on the small pile of rocks slowly dwindling across from him. His mind spread from the tiny grove of students cleaning up the temple to the crowd around him, and then a little further until noticing someone he hadn't seen before. The man was talking to Xae-Lin, the knight previously taken ill by a light crack on the head. His stance seemed to be eager, holding something back. Clearly he was not a Jedi. Just as Trip began to focus harder on the individual, the man moved with remarkable speed, flipping out a pair of blasters and catching them just as they were leveled at Xae's face. Another sigh left him as he softly got to his feet. Always so much to do... "Okay kids, I think we've moved enough rocks for today. Why don't you go get yourselves something to eat." At once, the stones lazily suspended in the air sat down in unison. The crowd of children rose together and left together, save for four of the older students. Like him, they too had felt the change in the temple air. Together the five of them walked toward Xae and the newcomer once the younglings were in safe distance, hands clasped idly in front of them. Just as they were coming upon the pair, a stray blaster shot flew past Trip's left cheek. Together the five of them broke from their walking pace, in a force assisted sprint toward the combatants. While the other for reached for the lightsabers, Trip could not resort to such an act. He had never built a lightsaber, deciding that he wouldn't do so until his master had felt the time right. Breaking from the pack, Trip jumped high into the air, summoning a discarded broom to him in mid flight. As the other four young Jedi gathered around Xae for orders, Trip landed in a tucked roll half a dozen feet at the stranger's ten o'clock. He sprang upward with all the intensity the force and his legs could manage, bringing the broom in a vicious upward strike across the stranger's wrists. The bounty hunter's arms flew upward with the blow, releasing his dual blasters. Oddly enough, the broom head was also sent coursing upwards in the air along with the blasters, broken from the handle as it impacted the hunter's right wrist. Trip let his left hand fall from the broom handle and forced his open palm toward the hunter, casting him back some ten feet before landing with a soft thud on the cold temple floor. As gravity took hold on the blasters and broom head, Trip stabbed the tip of the makeshift staff harmlessly through the air. The broom head clattered against the stone ground, while the blasters swung around Trip's staff, held on by the trigger guards. "I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot permit violence on temple grounds. If you wish to continue, we will have to restrain you." His tone was soft and formal, as he would speak to anyone else he had met for the first time. Technically speaking, they should have arrested him and held him for trial for the crime of assault and attempted murder, but with all the things going on recently, the order probably wouldn't want to waste resources on just one lowly bounty hunter. At least, that's the way he figured it. Whether or not the masters had other intentions was for them to say. ((I can't just sit by and watch a Jedi get attacked. Count me in. We'll make it a 2v1, not counting for anyone else who may wish to join in. A,B,C)) -EDIT- Also, Xae, the four Jedi I brought with me are under your control, since you're the ranking Jedi.

Rather abruptly knocked out of meditation, it took the young lad a second or two to get his barrings. The temple, right. As deep in meditation as he was, it was easy for him to lose himself in his repetitive task. He was just glad the stone he had been currently working on was just about where it needed to be when he was awakened, else some tiny little youngling would have been squashed. The stone did, however, fall about five feet to the ground, shocking many of the younger children into dropping their own small rocks, while the older children remained steadfast in their meditation. Turning his attention to the droid, Trip quickly figured out why it was so eager to grab his attention. The Jedi Knight Xae-Lin had collapse, a small trickle of blood running from a spot on her head, making a single strand of her hair into a rusty hue. Trip stood from his seated position, offering the droid a casual smile. "Don't worry little friend. Your master will be right as rain in two shakes of a bantha's tail." As powerful as the Jedi knight was in the force, her form was something quite misleading for her magnitude. Just under five feet tall, she was thin as a twig. Reaching low to pick her up, Trip had no problem carrying her. Medical attention was no problem to find, either. Since they had been at the scene of a major attack on the temple, medical droids and doctors were everywhere, searching through the rubble for any injured. A light touch across the surface of one of the doctor's mind made him turn to Trip just as he was coming up to him. "Excuse me, but I believe she's hurt her head. Maybe a concussion. Would you mind taking a look?" "I-I'm sorry..." the doctor fumbled out, "...but if her pulse is strong and she's already blacked out, there's nothing I can do for her besides give her some bacta, and I really have to keep searching for high priority injuries in this rubble." The doctor sounded as if he were forcing his confidence, trying to play the part of a leader in a situation where he was absolutely lost. Trip couldn't blame him, really. The man was important, and had to act it, else those under him, those in pain, and frankly everyone who was simply too shocked by the experience to properly function would be lost to the gravity of the situation. Trip looked over the doctor's shoulder to the pile of rubble he and a few other volunteers were working on, then back to the doctor. "There's no one in that pile. Nor any other pile around here." "But...how?" Trip only offered back a casual smile, not bothering to explain that it was the force that told him this. "Leave the rock moving to me, doctor. There's no one else for you to save in there today. However this lady here is in need of some attention." Utterly at a loss for words, the doctor could only nod as a few medical droids moved to take the Jedi out of his hands. "When she wakes, tell me if you can. I'd like to follow up on her condition." Offering yet again another light hearted smile, Trip turned to go back to his work clearing the debris. Returning to his seated position in the semicircle, he slowly slipped into meditation as his breathing slowed to a controlled pace. Without hesitation another large stone lifted from the pile and began to drift to the new rubble pile.

Today is the day. He thought, not entirely sure how to feel. Today was the day he was supposed to be chosen by one of the masters of the order to become a padawan. As exciting as the prospect was, he couldn't help but let many questions break through his concentration. Who is going to be my master? Will they like me? Am I really ready? He knew before he let the question take its own winding path through his mind what the answer was. Yes! He had been ready for this for two years now, ever since he had surpassed the other younglings in training. He could tell they were all jealous, but intervention from the masters and their years of training had prevented them from acting on such base emotions. They even managed to sincerely wish him luck the day he left his group to start his own studies as he waited for a master. Trip couldn't help but enjoy mind numbing tasks. He saw it as a type of meditation, letting the repetition of the tasks take his mind away from the world to focus on one simple task. Today it was moving rocks. Not any rocks, mind you, but pieces of the large stones that once made up the temple walls. Many of the younglings had been sent to the destroyed part of the temple to begin clearing away the debris. Where many would find this a lewd form of cheap child labor, the masters had simply explained it as practice. They were not to move the stones by physical might, but with the force. Gathered in a large semicircle, dozens of younglings sat cross legged and eyes closed, deep in meditation as they cleared away the debris as best their training and focus could allow. Many of them had focused on the smaller rocks, while Trip and a few other older boys took their time and moved away the larger ones. In quiet solace he sat, obediently practicing, forcing his mind to shrug off the lesser things and simply focus on the vastness of the force.

Name: Jarin Silocen Nickname: Trip Age: 16 Species: Zelosian (Outwardly Human in appearance) Height: 5' 10”

Name: James Haze Alias: Jimi Species: Zelosian Age: 17 Height: 6'2" Weight: 174lbs Eye Color: Emerald Green Hair Color: Red Homeworld: Zelos II Force User Clothes: Simple tan and brown robes. Weapons: None Possessions: None Born into the Order, Jimi has finally trained diligently enough to be taken on by a Jedi Master.

His eyes moved from her reddened hand to her puffy eyes. He had heard the commotion in the ship, but it was his position as her guest that kept him from checking on her. Something was wrong, very wrong. Yeah...Yeah sure, Armiena, I'll go. She was distressed over something, and he'd go along with her to keep her safe. It sounded foolish, he knew, trying to protect a Jedi, but it was what he did. It was the least he could do to repay her kindness. He followed her to the ship and took a seat in the copilot's chair. He wanted so desperately to ask her what the problem was, if there was any way he could help, but she was distraught, worried about something beyond his scope. He had seen such pain before. She'd speak when she was good and ready, and not a moment sooner.

An eager smile spread across his young face. Finally, a change of pace. A chance for some fun for a change. Lead the way.

You know, I'd be interested in seeing the Jedi styles. I've read about them, but I've not seen them used, thankfully. He took another drink from the half full cup, laughing on the inside at such an optimistic view on something as simple as water. I could spar with you if you want. It's been a while since i've had a...friendly fight as well.

She had the worst timing possible. Right as she asked him his name, he had just put a large handful of popcorn in his mouth. Slightly embarrassed, he held up a finger to request a moment to finish chewing. It seemed so awkward, especially given the amount of popcorn he attempted to eat at once. He chewed as fast as he could, he cheeks puffed out to resemble a large, pale squirrel storing food as his instincts commanded in preparation for winter. Terribly sorry. How rude of me. My name is Azrael. He took another sip of water to clear his mouth. The popcorn was good, but it wouldn't sustain him like a normal meal. He decided to wait until his host was hungry before thinking of dinner. The thought of repeatedly asking for things from someone he had just met was appalling. He turned his attention from his hunger to the question of his training. As to my skill with this...tool, I'm afraid a thousand worlds would rise and fall in the time it would take me to list all my masters. He chuckled at his own joke as he took his sword from it's sheath. I've been all over this galaxy for training, with several different masters. I've studied under....six humans, two echani, three twi'leks, a duros, a wookiee, an iradonian, an a surprisingly pleasant mandalorian. Everything from combat to philosophy, writing, history, hell, I know more about the hyperspace wars than anyone person should. Another short laugh escaped him at the obscurity of it all. My parents were pretty rich, and were obsessed with me becoming the next family senator. Like a good little boy, I did as I was told and studied from dawn till dusk, sometimes longer. It wasn't until I was about...thirteen when I took more interest in the martial arts. That's when I picked this sword up. His eyes studied the blade a little longer. Not a nick in the blade, despite it's inelegant use. It was as perfect as the day it was made, down to the indiscernible characters at the base of the blade. Maybe one day I'll tell you it's story. He resheathed the blade and took another handful of popcorn, careful to measure his portions this time.

For once he was glad his hostess seemed indifferent toward him. Those that had welcomed him with open arms tended to wish only to use him for their own personal gain. Here he had no expectations, no responsibilities. Just stay out of trouble and rest. The kid inside was excited at the prospect of exploring the temple as far as his her good graces would allow. Especially the physical training room. Since he left home training had consisted of pissing off the meaner looking thugs or out running them. There might even be sparing droids. The very thought of being able to measure himself on a regulated setting was enough to make him want to start now, but he knew Armiena wouldn't be too pleased with him if he just ran off. I wonder what kind of garden they have. Thanks. I'll do my best to stay out of trouble. I'll probably stick to either the library or gym when I'm awake, if that's alright with you. "Grandmaster..." Azrael listened as the wolf spider talked. Something about a golden death star. He tried to visualize it. A space station the size of a small moon made out of solid gold. It seemed...impractical to say the least. He kept trying to figure out how the thing even remained in tact when his hostess asked him if he would like popcorn. Um...sure. I haven't seen a good movie in a while.

Well, you know when you try to help people, but people are afraid of the thing you're trying to help them with, so instead of being grateful for all your help, they start shooting at? Yeah, well, that's what happened. Feeling much more comfortable now that he was reunited with his one companion through his past couple years. The sword had been the only thing that remained true to him. Every person, every group of peoples he had ever tried to help had in one way or another betrayed him. Either outright throwing him out of the town like here on Phu, or by transgressing back to the point that had gotten them in trouble in the first place. He often asked if all the pain and anguish were worth it. But all it took was the look of a person in need and his heart melted. He was a slave to the galaxy, forced to wonder from place to place, helping in what little way he could. Mind if I stay here a couple days? Get my strength back and I'll be out of your hair. Three days max, I promise.

Azrael returned her laugh as she posed the million credit question. I was run out of town. Some people don't know how to show gratitude properly I suppose. When she adjusted her belt, he became acutely aware that Flux was no longer on his back. Now the only thing consuming his thoughts was getting his one worldly possession back. It wasn't that he felt threatened or anything, one the contrary. Just being around a Jedi was somewhat comforting. It was just that without his sword he felt naked. The weapon was just as much a part of him as his hands or legs. It identified with who he was. A weapon of justice, striking down those who would bring evil to the world. It sounded sappy, he knew, but his poetry was never as good as his martial talents. Speaking of my sword, can I, uh...have it back, perhaps?

All he could do was stare as she revealed herself. The Jedi? What were they doing on Phu, and why weren't they out in the galaxy making a difference? Azrael couldn't count the times he wished the Jedi were by his side, quelling the evil of man, but they were never there. Now, in a moment when any other helpful individual would do, here they were. Never the less, fate had brought him to this place at this time. The question now was what to do about it? He could just arrange for transport back to Coruscant, get a small job, and build his credits back up until he was in a position to go back to Nar Shaddaa. That would be the smart move. Never change what isn't broken, and his methods had been tried and true for a year now. Then again, he could try to stick around. The Jedi were known for their martial prowess. Maybe he could get this woman to show him a few things, add yet another form to his already erratic style. Even if he wanted to stick around, he'd have to make some sort of deal. It was doubtful a Jedi would drop whatever they were doing just to teach him a few things. He didn't know how long he had remained silent in thought, but when he finally spoke he attempted to do so in a curious and oblivious manner. Oh yeah? And how's Jedi life treating you? Well enough, from the look of your toys.

He eyed the massive droid as it's master walked off, hopefully to get some water. Armiena came back in little time holding a clear glass of water. It was curious as to why she felt the need to prove the water was clean of poisons. If she wanted him captured or dead she would have done it at any moment during his incapacitation. Never the less, this woman was going to some effort to prove her good nature. As the cool liquid slid down his throat he wondered if he would have questioned her motives if she hadn't made the effort and appeared merely indifferent toward their meeting. Sated, he stretched his muscles, feeling the life giving fluid already making it's way through him. Much obliged, Artiema. Know where a guy could get some work to get off this rock?

His eyes shot open, turning from black to blue as his pupils came into focus. In a second, he flipped to his feet. A natural panic came to him while he looked around the hanger. It wasn't until he remembered her face from the droid's past. He quickly calmed himself, removing his hand from where his sword should have been. I don't wish to be a burden, but some water would be much appreciated, Miss.... He waited to see how hospitable his new host would be before he released his own name. Thus far, Phu's citizens hadn't been the kindest he had ever met.

Azrael summoned his strength and stood, stumbling over to the large droid. He hesitated. Memories of prior uses of the technique resurfaced, reminding him of the terror men were capable of. First his fingertips brushed the cold metal exterior, the latest memories of the inanimate surfacing. When his palm flattened on the droid, vision delving all the way back to it's creation became his own until... Can you...can you give me a moment. He stepped back, his eyelids growing heavy. Prolonged use of such a technique was tiring, and in his exhausted state even this brief encounter was a little more than he wished to bare. Take me...to your...lady. With the utterance of the words, he passed out.

His muscles whined in protest as he stopped his stumbled walk, having grown accustomed to the rhythmic, painful stride he had forced himself into to maintain. The pain had kept him awake so far, but with each step he could feel his body wearing down. Not far in the distance, hidden slightly by the large trees. Why he hadn't noticed the glimmer of light reflecting off of the mechanical spider's grey standard shell was beyond him, but the booming voice was more than enough to make itself known. Given the words the spider chose, Azrael figured it was some sort of sentry, protecting something he was close to. It wouldn't have been out wandering without a designed reason. Now he had to figure how to talk his way out of the thing's grasp. In his current condition, combat was not a viable option. I've been walking for days. I need a place to rest and eat. He found the nearest patch of clean ground and took a seat. His breathing was heavy and his face flush. May I...touch you? I promise I won't hurt you. First sign of aggressiveness and you have my permission to match my hostilities. I'll even put my weapons to the side. It's an innocent enough request, eh? Even his words expressed his exhaustion as he moved his arm slow and steadily to remove his sword off of his back. Please?

((I have prior permission to come to Phu)) He groaned as he leaned against the tree. There was no telling how long he had been walking, days it seemed. He couldn't remember how many times the sun had set, but his feet told him it was too many. His mind drifted from his sore muscles has he tried to replay it all in his head. About three months ago he booked passage to Phu from Nar Shaddaa. He had gotten word that some of the colonies on Phu were having trouble with a particularly brutal group of raiders and the local authorities were powerless to stop them, while even the Empire and Alliance alike made no attempt to answer the cry of the forming colonies. He regretted leaving Nar Shaddaa. There was work enough for him there to last a thousand lifetimes, but everything there was bigger than him. Corruption and decadence evident in even the highest powers, there was little him and his sword could do. Phu's call was too much to be ignored. After his time in hyperspace, he wasted little time throwing himself into the conflict. He had moved from town to town, rallying the peaceful settlers and aiding them in their fight for a free life. In an astoundingly short period, he had helped liberate countless little settlements from the waring gang until he arrived at the capitol city, Ophuchi. The gang had fallen back to Ophuchi, fortifying the city before he had even arrived. For days Azrael and his following band of settlers sieged the capitol. Their resolve to create a peaceful world drove them in their fight. Despite the gang's stubborn refusal at terms, he continued to strive for the lowest body count possible. On the sixth day of siege, the gang's leader revealed his trump, sending more than two hundred men in the night to flank Azrael's forces on both sides. The battle was quick, the villainous victorious. The surviving settlers were broken and beaten. In a dire attempt to their returned tyrant, they turned on Azrael, praying his head would be all that was required to appease their jailers. And here he was, in the middle of no where, run off by those he tried so valiantly to protect. He didn't blame them, really. They were afraid, and who could blame them? They needed help, and no one was offering it. They had been thrust back into the life of fear and servitude they hated so much. Azrael slipped his wooden sandles back on his tired feet and continued walking. The woods on Phu were large. There was no telling how long he had to go before finding someone who didn't want his head.

Abashed the Devil stood and felt how awful goodness is. Attributes Name: Azrael DeLerina Species: Kiffar Homeworld: Iego Age: 17 Gender: Male Height: 5' 11" Weight: 165 lbs Eyes: Blue Hair: Dirty Blond Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Force Sensative: Yes Weapons Flux A true work of innate beauty, this is a double edged, curved tsurugi with a duel pronged hilt, the handle made of polished alabaster. The blade is blemish free, made of a dense phrik composite. The scabbard is extra long to house a hidden tanto at the end. The extended length gives the illusion that the blade is longer than it really is, allowing it to be drawn a fraction of a second quicker than the opponent anticipates. The weapon is strapped to his back instead of at his side for easy access and carry. Tanto Hidden in the base of the sword's scabbard, this small blade looks like a natural extension of the scabbard. The blade is also made of a dense phrik alloy.[/size] Abilities Psychometry The mental technique of picking up impressions and traces of information about the object touched and the events that have surrounded it. This power allowed the user to view events as if they were there, including the sights, sounds, and feelings, both emotional and physical, that the wielder of the object experienced. This power was easier to use on personal objects that were used frequently. Objects that were used once or by several people often made the use of this power difficult, though it was still possible. Martial Prowess Azrael has studied numerous forms of martial arts to both aid in his chaotic fighting style and to hone his mind. He is able to easily flow between arts to make his style truly unpredictable. Also, his intense self training has made him develop muscles most often unused by most people, making him incredibly fast.

Helbrecht sat in the cargo hold of the Ghost Breath, trying to meditate before the inevitable battle that would take place on the planet's surface. For some reason, he couldn't close out the world. The rock just wouldn't grow. The unrest his master exhibited was throwing him off balance. She was consumed with the battle, using every ounce of training she had acquired over the years to make the Jedi one cohesive unit. He sorely wished he could join the fighters in space, but it would prove to be of no use. He had never taken the time to truly grasp and master the art of flying. Combat was meant to be hand to hand, not in little ships. He held Kad'ika tightly, waiting patiently for the chance to use it. For the moment, he had nothing to offer the Grand Master in terms of the battle. He could only become useful when they landed, scores of droids and stormtroopers ready to bring the battle to him.

Helbrecht examined the sword, not bothering to comment on the obvious idiocy of the Grand Master's one and only command, as he was pretty sure it was half in jest. The blade was a work of an excellent craftsman, the balance nearly perfect. He listened as she explained the mechanics, enjoying the feel of the weapon in his hand. "Do not worry, Grand Master. I shall not fail you." He gave a curt nod and backed away, allowing her to continue on with whatever pre-battle business she needed to take care of.

Helbrecht looked over the weapons, running his fingers along the cold metal, merely chuckling as a wife almost killed a husband, his humor quickly fading when the husband in return showed his over confidence and flaunted his skill. There was no real need for such a display of power. To use such a powerful tool like your personal plaything...Frankly, Helbrecht just found it slightly unbecoming of a Master. Lowering his voice just audible to the point where only his master could hear him. "You know, I could use some target practice, and your husband seems more than willing." It was said in jest, but he kept his stern face. One good thing about being serious all the time was making people question if you are kidding or not. However the same really applied to those considered constant jokers as well, so he couldn't say the enjoyment was left solely to him.

Hel...the indignity. By referring to himself as purely Helbrecht, he took the burden of his family name, and by extension honor, on his shoulders. Shortening it took away part of his identity, party of his history. But did that matter, really? All that really matter was that he did he duty to the order; that he preserved life the best of his capabilities. Though it left a somewhat sour taste in his mouth, he would accept the name. "No, Grand Master. Call me what you wish." He fell in line not far behind her. If what she said were true, battle would be upon them soon. He needed a weapon, if not many.