Private A Return to the Temple | Dueling Refresher

[Ilaria Morvayne]

Opening Post – "Dueling Refresher"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Aris Noble

---

Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Grounds

The rhythmic hum of training sabers filled the air. The scent of polished stone and warmed training mats clung to the massive chamber, where Padawans sparred under the watchful eyes of Jedi instructors. To most, this was routine—just another day in the Temple's disciplined regimen.

For Ilaria Morvayne, it was a reintroduction.

She stepped into the arena, hands folded neatly behind her back, her Padawan robes pristine, her posture effortlessly composed. The presence of so many Jedi—Padawans, Knights, even a few Masters observing from the perimeter—was a stark contrast to the silence of the Enclave where she had trained for so long. There, every movement had been deliberate, refined, honed in a space devoid of distraction.

Here, everything was faster, louder, and alive.

She had practiced dueling techniques for years—form, posture, precision. The Masters at the Enclave had ensured she understood the principles of combat, the importance of balance and control. But she had never fought outside of structured training, never faced a true, unpredictable opponent.

And now, she was to receive a "dueling refresher" from another Padawan.

She inhaled evenly, exhaling with the same measured patience. This was not a test, merely an exercise to gauge where she stood. Yet, deep within, a part of her knew—this would set the tone for how others perceived her.

Her gaze swept the room, searching for the one she was meant to spar against.

The moment had arrived.

She stepped forward, bowing in the precise, practiced manner she had been taught.

"Ilaria Morvayne," she introduced herself, her voice smooth, diplomatic. "I understand you will be my instructor today. I am prepared."

A training saber was placed in her hand. The weight was familiar, but the moment was not.

She activated the blade. The blue energy hummed to life.

She assumed her stance—a Makashi opening form, her posture flawless, her grip light but controlled. There was no tension, no wasted movement. Just perfect form, refined and disciplined.

Her emerald eyes met those of her opponent.

"Shall we begin?"

​

​

 

[Aris Noble]

There were few things Aris could really help with at the Temple, as a Jedi any way. Helping in the kitchen, mostly due to Mahsa 's assistance in helping him realize that cooking was more about getting to the flavor regardless of instructions than following instructions to the letter, cleaning the temple. Rebuilding, given the sheer amount of weight he could lift. Watching the younglings. There was plenty he could do, but it wasn't often he was called to do something only he could do.

Grant it, that was still a stretch of the word. Any other Padawan could also help another learn their saber. The point was he was asked, and he could, and it wasn't just something anyone could do. Getting asked to help brought a swell of pride in his chest. He needed to double down on his work with his Lightsaber as it was. If he spent all his time fighting with his bare hands, he wouldn't have the experience to properly be named a Battlemaster.

That was still his goal, after all. He arrived in a basic tunic, arms bare and the like. Something incredibly simple, akin to the Jedi of the late Republic than his father's style of the High Republic. He didn't want to be distracting, this was training.

"Padawan Aris. Makashi is your preferred form, yes?" He reached a foot out, tapping one of the buttons nearby with it before the arena started to glow. A rectangle, giving no room to step side to side but plenty to go forwards and back. A fencing arena.

He flicked on his own training saber as he stepped into the sparring arena, his eyes focused. Narrowed. He looked far more intense than he meant to be, but that was how his expression always was. People who knew him would know he was actually smiling, but emotion was still something he had a much harder time showing. Zaiya Ceti was probably the one who got the most emotions to show. Aris mirrored the salute, before pointing his blade off to the side, calm and relaxed. His posture was perfect, and yet he didn't seem rigid, more free and loose than most.

Jonyna Si had taught him that.

"We'll go with this. No stepping to the side, no stepping out of bounds, no swapping hands. Sound good?"

Ilaria Morvayne

 

[Ilaria Morvayne]

Post #2 – "Dueling Refresher"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Aris Noble

---

Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Grounds

Ilaria took in her opponent with a single measured glance. Padawan Aris. His reputation was unfamiliar to her, but she noted the way he carried himself—controlled, deliberate, confident. His attire was simple, practical, devoid of any distraction, yet his presence commanded attention.

Then, there was his stance.

She recognized it immediately. Makashi. The same form she had studied, practiced, and refined in the Enclave. The form of precision, of economy, of logic over brute strength. Yet, there was something different about the way he held himself. Not rigid, not perfectly sculpted into an academic ideal, but free-flowing, adaptive—as if it had been lived in, shaped by experience rather than strict instruction.

A thought crossed her mind, sharp and quick: This will be a challenge.

Her expression remained neutral as he stepped into the sparring ring, activating his training saber with the ease of someone utterly familiar with the weapon.

Then, the arena changed.

The lighted rectangle confined them, restricting movement to a single plane. A dueling strip, she realized. An environment designed for pure Makashi combat.

Her grip tightened just slightly around the hilt of her training saber. She had expected a sparring match—a test of discipline and adaptability. Instead, he had chosen to make this a true duel.

Her emerald gaze flickered up to meet his.

"Acceptable parameters," she replied evenly, her tone composed. Controlled.

She stepped forward, her movements careful, measured. A slight inclination of her head, acknowledging his expertise. Then, she raised her blade into the classic Makashi salute—textbook perfect, refined to an art.

Her stance followed seamlessly, every inch of her form exuding balance and intention.

She inhaled. Exhaled.

Steady. Focused. Ready.

"Let us begin."

The moment held, a single breath suspended in stillness.

Then, Ilaria struck.

Her opening move was precise, elegant, but cautious—a testing strike toward his leading side, not overextending, not reckless. Just enough to measure his reaction, to feel the weight of his response.

Because in this duel, every movement mattered.

And she intended to learn everything she could.

​

 

[Aris Noble]

She was the first to strike. Aris kept his blade down, his posture relaxed, right up to the last second before his blade spun in a quick parry. He was keeping his cards close to his chest, but the sudden knock was anything but light. Makashi was all about precision and a controlled touch. Not strength, the precision couldn't afford strength. Aris, though, had a strength behind it no one should. It might as well been a two handed strike.

That shouldn't matter, though. That was the point of Makashi, to never be in a position where a blow of strength could break a grasp. She was light on her feet to retreat immediately, but he struck out regardless in a riposte to keep her back. Keep her moving. Another strike, a jab, swift and heavy, followed right after. He followed right after. In terms of strength, he knew he'd win, but that was what he was hoping she'd pick up on.

Skill was going to be her best weapon here.

Ilaria Morvayne

 

[Ilaria Morvayne]

Post #3 – "Dueling Refresher"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Aris Noble

---

Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Grounds

The moment her blade connected, she knew.

He was stronger than he should be.

Makashi was meant to be a form of refinement—light, precise, efficient. Strength was not its foundation, nor was it needed. And yet, when Aris parried her strike, the force behind it was anything but subtle. The impact sent a vibration through her wrist, sharp and jarring.

Ilaria did not react outwardly.

Her grip adjusted instinctively as she retreated, feet gliding effortlessly backward—precisely as she had trained. But he did not allow her the time to reset.

He struck.

His riposte was immediate, his form clean, but his approach was relentless, aggressive.

She parried the first strike—a calculated deflection to the side, redirecting his energy rather than stopping it head-on. Absorb, don't resist.

But the next came even faster. A jab, swift and weighted, not reckless but commanding.

She shifted, tilting her body at the last second to avoid the full force of the hit, but it still clipped the fabric of her sleeve, nearly connecting. Her heart beat a fraction faster, a spike of adrenaline against her otherwise controlled demeanor.

He was pressing her.

"Your strength is wasted in Makashi," she observed, voice even as she adjusted her grip.

Not a taunt. Not arrogance. Simply an clinical observation.

He was not just testing her defenses, but forcing her into movement. Keeping her on the defensive.

Her mind worked through the implications quickly.

• He is stronger. Meeting force with force would be pointless.
• He is keeping me moving. A duel dictated on his terms would only lead to inevitable loss.
• He wants me to recognize this. He's teaching, not overpowering.

So be it.

Adaptation was necessary.

She allowed the next attack to come, reading the movement, not resisting—flowing with it. As his saber thrust forward in another precisely placed jab, she took one final retreating step, then pivoted sharply.

Instead of retreating further, she stepped forward.

Her saber angled low, sweeping beneath his guard—not for an attack, but for a disruption. A shift in rhythm, aimed at breaking the pace he had dictated.

The counter was not aggressive, nor reckless—it was a shift of control. An aim to challenge the narrative he had set.

​

 

[Aris Noble]

"Only if I fail to apply it properly."

Strength wasn't how a Makashi user could suddenly win over another. It was a tool, like everything else. Properly applied, and he could change the very battlefield they stood on. Any Jedi could, in a lightsaber fight or not. It was about adapting, constantly assessing and changing the path forward. Just as she did. A flash of a grin formed as she changed from retreat to advancing, taking advantage of his thrust to get right into his guard.

His wrist flicked, bringing his saber down to catch her strike, but even with his monstrous strength he couldn't just batter the strike away. He had no sleeves to burn, but given how he redoubled his grip on his saber he near lost it. He retreated, a quick step back as his assault was turned straight to the defensive. She was good. She knew how to adapt. In terms of the basics and the core of Makashi, she was excelling.

So if he was going to help her, then, the unorthodox, right?

The ground cracked under them. A single step, slammed into the floor. It wasn't the first time he'd broken an arena, but if he wanted to help, what better way than to throw off the footing that was so integral to their chosen form?

Ilaria Morvayne

 

[Ilaria Morvayne]

Post #4 – "Dueling Refresher"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Aris Noble

---

Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Grounds

The moment his foot struck the ground, she knew something was wrong.

A sharp crack split the air. The training floor beneath them shuddered, fractured, disrupting the smooth, even surface that had defined the duel up to now.

Impossible.

Makashi was an art of precise footwork, controlled movement—balance was everything. And in a single move, Aris had shattered the foundation beneath them.

She stumbled.

Not dramatically, not wildly—but enough. Her next step forward did not meet stable ground as she had calculated, and she felt the shift in her body's balance just before it happened. Her blade instinctively angled into a defensive guard, but the damage was already done.

For the first time in the duel, her stance was compromised.

Her recovery was swift, her body adjusting with refined precision—but the moment was not lost. He had forced an error.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, steadying. No emotion reached her face, but the faintest flicker of something cool and cutting passed behind her emerald gaze.

Then, a simple statement.

"That was not Makashi."

Her voice remained smooth, precise. But beneath it, there was a subtle accusation, a quiet challenge wrapped in practiced civility.

The rules had been clear. A Makashi duel. A measured engagement, testing form and skill. And yet—he had broken the ground beneath their feet.

A violation? No. Not quite.

A deliberate disruption? Absolutely.

Her grip adjusted, firm but composed, as she resettled into a defensive posture—not just from him, but from the environment he had altered.

She was adapting. Again.

Her eyes met his, unblinking.

"Was your strength applied properly, then?"

Not a taunt. Not a reprimand. A question. A test.

Because now, she was watching him—not just as an opponent, but as a subject. How would he justify this? How would he respond?

Because whether he realized it or not—he had just taught her something.

​

 

[Aris Noble]

"No stepping to the side, no stepping out of bounds, no swapping hands." He repeated his earlier phrase with a rather blank expression. It wasn't snide, it wasn't witty. It was surprise. He never mentioned anything about this being a Makashi specific duel, just that there were rules that lent to the use of the form. To push her familiarity to the unfamiliar, the unexpected. The breaking of the ground certainly had done that.

"No, it wasn't. I should've followed up the moment I had done so."

Which was the truth. Surprise was on his side, and her unbalance would've been his win. Given her response though, it was good he hadn't. There was more to learn, for both of them, for the duel to be ended by what seemed to her to be a sneaky strike. He flicked his saber up, shifting his position as he tightened his grasp. Changed his form. No side stepping was still the rule, but he could incorporate the footwork of Makashi into others if he wanted to.

And he did. He brought his blade straight down, an overhead and sudden strike. Full force, full strength. He'd swapped to Djem So, bringing down a Falling Avalanche. He wanted to make sure he was pressuring her to keep thinking, keep moving, keep learning. There was only so much drills could teach, right?

Ilaria Morvayne

 

[Ilaria Morvayne]

Post #5 – "Dueling Refresher"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Aris Noble

---

Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Grounds

He repeated the rules. Matter-of-fact. Blank.

Not a defense, not an argument—just the simple reality of what had been established.

Ilaria processed it swiftly. Her assumption had been incorrect.

The duel had never been purely Makashi—only structured in a way that encouraged it. And I fell into that assumption without questioning it.

Her grip around the hilt of her training saber remained steady. Noted.

And then he moved.

Fast. Decisive.

His stance shifted, no longer the flowing grace of Makashi, but something heavier—rooted, commanding, absolute. His blade came down in a direct, overhead arc, carrying his full strength, a downward force meant to dominate rather than simply finesse.

Djem So.

The attack was direct, overwhelming—not an invitation to dance, but a challenge to withstand.

She had no intention of doing so.

A direct block would be foolish. She had seen his strength firsthand—she would not match it, nor would she allow herself to be caught beneath it.

Her choice was made in an instant.

She moved.

Her blade came up—not to catch his in direct opposition, but to glide along the descending strike, redirecting rather than resisting. Her footwork pivoted sharply, angling her body just out of the path of his downward force. The weight of his strike would carry itself down regardless—she would not be beneath it.

Instead, as her saber redirected his blade to the side, she used the opening to step forward, past his dominant shoulder.

Close.

Inside his guard.

Her blade flicked upward, toward his exposed wrist, a feint rather than a strike—a statement, not an attack. A silent response to his lesson.

Her breath was steady, though she could feel the shift in her heartbeat—a subtle but undeniable acceleration.

This was not a duel of form anymore.

This was adaptation.

She had accused him of abandoning Makashi. Now, she had done the same.

Her emerald eyes flickered up to meet his, expression unreadable. Then, with the same measured tone as before, she spoke.

"Then follow up."

​

 

[Aris Noble]

There she was, in his guard again. Given their size difference and his reach, it was the smartest thing to do. Use his size and reach against him, especially as he so clearly swapped into a different type of strike. It was good to see that she wasn't going to let the rigidity of her training at the temple hold her back. That was the most important thing. The Sith, the Mandalorians, the other threats all throughout the galaxy, they weren't going to work as the drills taught.

He jumped, then. With his blade knocked to the side he flipped over her with a faint grin in the process. It was eerily still along the line he'd set for them as he landed, scooting back a step further as he knew he was an easy target now, especially landing. It spared him from loosing his saber, though, as he certainly would've with the right kind of bap to his wrist.

"I will, I will. You're getting it now, so keep going. Keep showing me that you're more than just the drills they taught you, mm?"

Ilaria Morvayne

 

[Ilaria Morvayne]

Post #6 – "Dueling Refresher"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Aris Noble

---

Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Grounds

He was airborne before she could press the advantage.

The momentary flicker of movement—a leap, a twist of form, momentum overcoming positioning—forced her to shift her stance rather than commit to a strike. Her blade remained steady, tracking the motion with sharp precision, but no strike came.

A flip. A retreat. A deliberate reset.

She turned smoothly to face him, feet gliding back into position, but her expression did not change.

Her opponent had not simply avoided the risk of losing his saber—he had chosen to evade entirely, rather than counter within his own compromised space. A calculated retreat, accepting vulnerability in favor of repositioning.

It was a choice.

Her eyes remained locked onto him as he landed, already shifting back another step. A safe distance, reestablishing the duel's rhythm. She recognized it for what it was—an invitation. A test.

Then he spoke.

"You're getting it now, so keep going. Keep showing me that you're more than just the drills they taught you, mm?"

For the first time in the match, something shifted in her gaze.

Not frustration. Not irritation.

But assessment.

A quiet realization settled in.

This is not a duel in the traditional sense. He is not simply testing my skill—he is testing my ability to break from structure entirely.

It was not an insult, nor a dismissal of the training she had undergone for years. It was a challenge.

Not to prove her strength. But to prove her adaptability.

And so, she did not respond immediately.

She simply moved.

No pause. No hesitation. No waiting for an opening.

The shift was subtle but absolute—Makashi's poised elegance blended with something faster, something sharper.

She advanced, blade flicking forward in a probing strike—not to land a hit, but to force him to react. Not to follow the patterns she had learned, but to create her own rhythm.

One strike. Two. A third, angled lower—testing his guard, his spacing. Not overcommitting. Not controlling the duel. Simply attempting to force him to move.

She had spent her life learning structure.

Now, for the first time, she was learning fluidity.

As she moved, her voice was calm. Measured.

"I never was just the drills."

A statement. Not a boast.

Because now, she was proving it.

​

 

[Aris Noble]

His grin continued to grow as Ilaria followed, struck and found her own rhythm beyond what was taught in holocrons and by droids. Faster, stronger. His blade flashed out against hers, actively trying now to break her grasp on her blade with each deflection. Pushing her control over how she responded to each bone numbing strike. Different parts of her blade, different angles.

Then, he was in her guard. Another deflection to knock their blades aside, leaving both of them open, exposed without their lightsaber to defend themselves. But not fist. He swung a punch right for her gut, lightning quick, but halted just before contact. The last thing he could show her like this, to try and give her more tools and information.

That they had far more than just their lightsaber to help them. If he could use the Force, he'd have shown something more with that, but this would have to do.

Ilaria Morvayne