Private A Return to the Temple | The Art of Precision

[Ilaria Morvayne]

Opening Post – "The Art of Precision"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Garric Wrennar

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Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Hall – Early Morning

Ilaria stepped into the training chamber with the measured grace of someone who knew exactly how much space they occupied. Her pace was even, deliberate—neither hesitant nor hurried. The doors slid shut behind her, sealing off the din of the Temple's hallways.

She had asked for this.

She had not asked lightly.

The room was dim, illuminated only by the cool glow of training remotes in standby mode. The floor was polished durasteel, its smooth surface marred only by the faintest scuffs left behind by countless sparring sessions. The air carried the scent of ozone and tempered metal—the quiet remnants of past duels, of lessons learned and mistakes corrected.

Ilaria exhaled slowly, her emerald gaze sweeping the chamber with the same detached scrutiny she gave to all things.

Makashi.

The Form of elegance and precision. The duelist's art.

It was the one form that had always made sense to her, in theory. It was measured, refined—disciplined, not driven by brute force or reckless flourishes. It was structure. It was control. And yet… she had never fully mastered it. Not yet.

Her fingers flexed at her sides before curling into a fist.

She had always been an exceptional student in strategy, theory, and control of the Force itself—but not in combat. Not truly. It was an area where she was expected to improve, not one where she naturally excelled. Not yet.

That was unacceptable.

She had resolved to correct it.

As she waited for her instructor to arrive, she turned her thoughts inward, as she always did before a lesson. She did not waste time with unnecessary emotion. No frustration. No impatience. Only the expectation that she would improve, and the knowledge that if she did not, she would have to train harder.

Discipline. Dedication. Mastery.

That was how one excelled.

And Ilaria Morvayne would excel.

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[Garric Wrennar]

Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Hall – Early Morning
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Garric had to admit, he was very surprised when a (from what he could tell based on their brief interaction) new padawan had come to him and requested to learn more on the second form of lightsaber combat, Makashi. He was still adjusting to the New Order he had found himself in, but this took him back to when he was a teacher in his own time. So, after quite a bit of asking and talking, he had agreed.

He was approaching the training room where he had requested the young padawan meet him at. His pace was steady as he walked through the halls of the temple, his left hand (as always) rested on the sheath on his belt. He arrived at the training room and entered noting the dim light and the padawan stood inside, seeming to focus herself.

She appeared to not notice him yet, which at least meant he was still sharp in his own skills. She seemed to be in a heavy conversation with her own thoughts, so he began to tune himself to her emotions, it helps him get a grasp of what a student is like. He felt no unnecessary emotion from her, more so like she had a single goal and that was all she focused on. It was impressive, he had to admit, but he felt a tad saddened that it was coming from one so young. He decided now would be a good time to start.

"Good day, Padawan Morvayne, was it you mentioned the other day? Pleasure to properly meet you in less of a brief manner."

His words were spoken with a lightness to them, though it did have a gruff edge that came from his age.

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[Ilaria Morvayne]

Post #2 – "The Art of Precision"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Garric Wrennar

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Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Hall – Early Morning

Ilaria opened her eyes the moment the door slid open, but she did not turn immediately.

She had felt his approach—not through the Force, but through the subtle shift in the air, the near-silent displacement of space as he entered. The quiet presence of someone who knew how to move unseen. That, at least, was worth noting.

Her focus did not break as she exhaled, centering herself.

Only when he spoke did she shift her gaze, tilting her chin slightly as she regarded the man who had agreed to instruct her.

"Good day, Padawan Morvayne, was it you mentioned the other day? Pleasure to properly meet you in less of a brief manner."

His voice carried the weight of experience, a gruffness softened by familiarity, as if this moment reminded him of something distant. Something long past.

Ilaria inclined her head in a polite, measured nod.

"Yes. I appreciate you taking the time to instruct me, Master Garric."

Her words were precise, deliberate. Not curt, not cold—simply efficient.

She studied him briefly—not just his stance, but the way he carried himself. His left hand hovered near his sheath in habit, not thought. A swordsman's reflex, ingrained by years, not mere training. That, too, was worth noting.

"A duelist through and through."

She would not waste his time.

"I have studied the principles of Makashi extensively," she continued, hands clasped lightly behind her back. "But I recognize that theory is not mastery. I wish to refine my technique properly."

Her posture remained perfectly composed, though beneath it, her mind was already turning, already measuring.

She had chosen this path for a reason.

Makashi was not reckless. It was not raw, untamed aggression. It was not the wild, sweeping arcs of Djem So, nor the frantic, unpredictable footwork of Ataru.

It was precision.

It was grace, form, control.

And control was something she would never allow herself to lack.

She exhaled slowly, glancing at the training chamber around them before meeting her instructor's gaze once more.

"Where would you like to begin?"

​

 

[Garric Wrennar]

Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Hall – Early Morning
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Garric thought for a moment. This girl wasted absolutely no time. Everything she did, even down to the way she spoke, was pure efficiency. Interesting. Garric had to applaud her for that, but at the same time, he began to ponder something else. But, he pushed that thought to the back of his mind, for the time being anyway.

"Well, first we shall engage in a small spar, to help me understand where your skills currently are. Once I know that, we should be able to start properly."

He walked back, creating room between the two of them, removing his scabbard and placing it to the side. He then pulled two training sabers to his hand and threw one to his current pupil. He stood tall, with the training saber held down to his side.

Depsite his age, one could most definitely tell the experience he has, both in this form, ans in general.

"You may begin when ready."
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[Ilaria Morvayne]

Post #3 – "The Art of Precision"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Garric Wrennar

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Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Hall – Early Morning

Ilaria caught the training saber in one smooth, effortless motion, her grip settling around the hilt as if it had always belonged there.

A sparring match to assess her skill.

Logical. Expected.

She did not hesitate. She did not second-guess. There was no need. She had already prepared herself for this moment the moment she had stepped into this chamber.

Her stance shifted—not abruptly, but with deliberate grace.

A Makashi-ready stance was different from the others. Where Soresu kept one's footing firm, and Djem So planted its weight for sheer power, Makashi was fluid, refined.

Her lead foot slid forward, her back heel lifted just slightly, weight balanced on the balls of her feet. She held the saber at a precise one-handed grip, blade angled forward, her wrist loose but controlled. Not stiff—never stiff.

She studied him in the brief silence that followed.

Garric did not assume a rigid guard. He stood tall, his saber held down to his side in a manner that should have left him open—but she knew better.

This was not carelessness.

This was confidence.

A duelist's confidence.

He was inviting her to move first.

Ilaria did not waste time with ceremony.

She moved.

Her first strike was a textbook Makashi opening maneuver—a precise, probing lunge, aimed not for power, but for control. A measured test, designed to gauge his reaction rather than overpower him.

She did not throw her weight into it. That would have been reckless. Instead, she advanced with exactly the force necessary, blade extending with the sharp, refined motion of a fencer's thrust.

Not an attack.

A question.

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[Garric Wrennar]

Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Hall – Early Morning
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Immediately, Garric could tell that she carried herself with same way she spoke. As she lunged, not a single part of her movement wasted anything. It was impressive, especially for one so young. However, that meant that wasn't going to be her issue.

The older jedi sidestepped her lunge with ease, as one would expect of a seasoned combatant. However, as he had moved, he brought his blade into a small spin to reposition it before connecting it with the padawan's. He knew, seeing her form, she wouldn't fly past him because all of her weight wasn't into it, so he simply started to apply pressure on her training saber as it had passed him.

He placed his left hand behind his back as he kept his tall stance showing no struggle in keeping her blade from moving in his direction.

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[Ilaria Morvayne]

Post #4 – "The Art of Precision"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Garric Wrennar

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Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Hall – Early Morning

The moment their blades met, Ilaria understood.

This was not brute strength.

This was not a contest of force against force.

Garric's maneuver had been effortless, his sidestep executed with the grace of someone who had repeated the motion thousands of times. His riposte was not overpowering, but it commanded the space—a demonstration of control, not mere resistance.

Her feet adjusted instinctively, shifting her weight to absorb the pressure rather than resist it directly. Makashi was not meant to meet strength with strength. She knew that. She had studied that.

But knowledge and instinct were not yet the same thing.

She did not attempt to push back. That would be foolish. Instead, her grip subtly adjusted, angling her blade just slightly off-center to redirect rather than contest.

She did not fight the bind—she moved with it.

And yet—there was no give in his blade.

His stance remained tall, one-handed, his left hand calmly placed behind his back in the traditional duelist's form. A display of control, of dominance.

Her emerald gaze flickered upward, not with frustration, but with calculation.

She was being tested.

Very well.

With a sharp exhale, she acted—not with brute force, not with a wild escape, but with precision.

Rather than struggling against the bind, she let momentum carry her blade just a fraction further, using the natural flow of their engagement to step off-center. A smooth pivot on the ball of her back foot—not retreating, but repositioning.

With the motion, she twisted her wrist and let the training saber slide beneath their locked blades in a precise disengage—a classic Makashi maneuver meant to free oneself from a bind without wasting energy.

No wasted movement.

No reckless aggression.

Only fluid control.

But would it be enough?

She would find out soon enough

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[Garric Wrennar]

Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Hall – Early Morning
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He was impressed she was able to quickly manoeuvre out of the lock and once again face opposite him, but he was already beginning to pick apart some of the aspects she was lacking in. She was quick, yes, but compared to someone with enough experience and practise, she would be slow to react. She may be able to think quick, but that doesn't mean she acted quick enough. Second, she was being efficient, not very effective. While it was true that Makashi was more skill based and didn't rely on overwhelming power, there still needed to be some sort of force in the blade to truly work, at least in Garric's experience. She was too focused on making every movement efficient, the padawan seemed to fail at it being effective.

Suddenly, Garric crouched down, bringing the training saber from his side to to right against his chest directed at Ilaria. His left hand was no longer behind his back, but resting the pommel of the saber against it's palm. Then, he thrust the saber forward towards Ilaria, his left hand pushing forward for an extra boost. If someone who was inexperienced in Makashi attempted a move such as this, someone may consider it a haphazard attack. However, Garric was far from inexperienced, and from what he had seen so far, he knew Ilaria would piece that together.

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[Ilaria Morvayne]

Post #5 – "The Art of Precision"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Garric Wrennar

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Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Hall – Early Morning

The moment her blade connected with his, Ilaria knew.

Her lunge had been measured, her approach refined—and yet, it had been countered effortlessly. Not through brute strength, not through speed, but through experience.

Garric had read her like a scholar skimming a well-worn text.

She had not overcommitted to the attack, and yet she had committed. She had acted, and he had already accounted for it. His saber intercepted hers with ease, shifting just enough to force her blade aside without any real struggle. He had not even broken his stance. His balance remained immaculate.

And now, she was feeling the weight of that control.

His saber pressed against hers—not an overpowering strike, not an attempt to disarm her, but a simple, deliberate exertion of force.

Testing her.

Measuring her.

Her emerald eyes flickered upward, meeting his gaze, but only for an instant. She did not need words to understand what this was. A demonstration.

Makashi was not about power. It was about control.

And right now, she was not in control.

Her mind worked quickly, processing the situation with the same methodical analysis she applied to all things. She had studied the form extensively. She knew the textbook answer.

If strength was not an option, she had to redirect.

Ilaria adjusted her grip, exhaling as she shifted her stance. Rather than pushing against his pressure—a battle she would never win—she followed his movement, stepping to the side as her blade subtly angled away from his.

Not a retreat. A redirection.

Her saber slid along his, absorbing the momentum rather than resisting it. It was not a break—it was a transition.

Makashi was a form built on economy of movement. If her first motion failed, then she must seamlessly flow into the next.

She pivoted, moving with the weight of his blade rather than against it, allowing his own momentum to shift their positioning.

And then, as naturally as drawing breath, she transitioned into her next strike.

A quick, elegant cut, not forceful but precise, aimed not at his blade but at the space just beyond it—a feint, a lure, meant to test his reaction as much as it was an attack.

She would not fight with strength.

She would fight with calculation.

​

 

[Garric Wrennar]

Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Training Hall – Early Morning
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Garric was once again impressed by the padawan's current ability for her age. It was a strange habit of his, he couldn't help but praise those around him. Right now, he noticed her feint. She was trying to gain control of the duel, but Garric was quick to ensure that wouldn't happen. As soon as he saw the feint, he acted. He halted his thrust, suddenly bringing his left arm up to the hilt and raising his blade to disrupt her attempt. With her blade directed to the air, he rotated his hands so he could slash across at her chest, stopping just short before he actually made contact. Strangely enough, his first words were:

"Not bad for the first go. You did well, especially with how quick you could strategise."

There was his habit of complimenting. Others may go straight to criticisms, others may be more friendly, but still critique in a small way, but Garric couldn't help but put compliments out first.

"If I was your age, I probably would have fallen for the feint, so well done."

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Ilaria Morvayne