Fancy Glowsticks

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There would be a meeting soon. The Sith on Balmorra were off balance, and the Imperials were skirting on the edge of treason. Some had already joined Cyril's cause, pledging their allegiance to the resurgence of a new Empire. An Empire where they might be treated as equals; where force sensitives did not rule.

It was the Jedi Master's firm belief force sensitives should be protectors. Servants of the people. Never their rulers. Bad things tended to happen when anyone with a religious background in the force took office. The Clone Wars, the first war with the One Sith, the current war - they'd all brought pain to the galaxy.

He fully intended to bring this Empire into being. A friendly government to the Republic, a sister of sorts. Another place in the galaxy where people could live freely without fear of persecution. Then he could return to Ossus, perhaps return to advising the Prime Minister on political matters and serving as the go-between between the Senate and the Jedi Order.

He certainly missed his old job.

That wasn't to say his current occupation was undesirable. He loved what they were doing on this world. He enjoyed his companions company as well, and young [member="Ceska Starshield"] was showing remarkable progress. He had not told her yet, but his mind was made up. She would be his Padawan.

He'd called her to his private quarters aboard the Binkie, a Vector freighter he, Urya, and Charlene had used to arrive on Balmorra. The room was sparse, save for a simple bed and a training mat in the center. Here he would teach her what she needed to know, and with time, she might help him stop this Darth Arcis and his cronies.

He sat with his legs folded, one over the other, in the center of the room. His meditations maintained a faint connection with the force - he couldn't entirely immerse himself right now. He needed to be ready in the physical realm to confront the girl.

 

[huggin_munnin]

Cyril had asked her to meet him aboard the oddly named freighter 'Binkie'. She entered through the hanger's side door, a nondescript building in a nondescript neighborhood a short ways from one of Balmorra's numerous spaceports. It seemed like this planet was the perfect place to operate a rebellion from, the rebels themselves able to blend in with little effort in a very anonymous world. Grayson had said there would be more training.

Ceska knew that she needed to continue to hone her skills, especially with the Sith Lord Arcis coming. He could arrive anytime and they would inevitably confront the Dark Lord. She had to be ready should the older Jedi fail. She walked across the bay and up the ramp into the freighter.

"I'm here," she said simply, finding the other Jedi kneeling in meditation.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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"You sure? There are plenty of other young force sensitive women running about. Pretty sure you're just an Inquisitor. No entrance."

He held up a hand, lips pressed into an amused little line. His eyes did not open, but he was focused entirely on the Padawan. She had his undivided attention. The Jedi Master pushed up to his feet, a slow rise due to the ache within his legs and shoulders. Detritus had done more of a number to him than he had let on.

"Come on in kiddo."

He tilted forward in a half bow, and finally opened his eyes. He was grinning now, a warm, proud smile.

"We need to work on your bladework. Come at me." He nodded toward her lightsaber. "Need to see how much you can knock me around."

[member="Ceska Starshield"]

 

[huggin_munnin]

Ceska nodded and let her hilt slip into her palm. "Excuse me a moment," she said, adjusting the output emitter to a training setting. It wouldn't do if there was a serious accident. Looking up, Ceska smiled and said "There," and that was all the warning Cyril would get from her.

The cyan blade hissed into existence and she came forward, her speed enhanced by the Force. Her blade was a flurry of offense, seeming to come from everwhere at once...


[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Cyril was an experienced warrior. From the fields of Gratos, to the burning forests on Kashyyk, he'd fought wars far and wide across the galaxy. Still, the sudden assault he found himself under was unexpected. Ceska was quick.

His own lightsaber flew into his hand, the bright blue blade hissing as it crashed against the girl's her strikes were lightning quick, but they lacked the efficiency of a master. There was a certain economy to blade work, and when your strategy involved the fast, tiring strokes that Ceska had adopted, that economy was slowed. On most opponents it would simply overpower them, leaving them at the girl's mercy. It was indeed an effective technique.

Cyril was not most opponents.

His mastery of Niman was a novelty. Rather than focus on a defense of totality, he brushed off her quick, powerful strokes. Rather than catching her blade head on, he caught the weapon on its broadside, sending sparks and heat flickering across the small room. Still, he was on the defensive.

"You need to focus. Don't exhaust yourself at the beginning of a duel." He mentored as their blades clashed. "Find my weaknesses. My openings. Capitalize on them."

He chose to be on the offensive. Her strikes were fast, but Cyril was a dirty cheat. The blade came toward his shoulder, and it would have carved deep into his flesh, but the Jedi Master sent forth a weak telekinetic nudge with the force, enough to make the girl stumble if he caught her off balance.

[member="Ceska Starshield"]

 

[huggin_munnin]

Ceska was surprised by the Master's quick Force push that caught her shoulder. It made her upper body twist, causing her downward chop to miss. She had to turn into a pirouette-like maneuver to regain her balance. In that second or so, he came forward and caught her on her heels. Starshield barely had time to bring her blade into a downward block, his blade slashing at her legs.

From there, Grayson's blade began to flick here and there, a glowing snake's tounge. She could barely keep up and soon she was breathing hard in exhaustion from the effort. Ceska let out a sharp hiss as his blade kissed her ribs. It stung, and had it not been on a training setting, there were very good odds it would've been a disembowling strike.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Cyril pulled back for just a moment. His expression was stone. He was the characterization of calm, but the look in his eyes betrayed what he felt. A faint flicker of pride as he scored the girl. Not in causing her pain, but the fact that he could still keep up given his injuries. His arm was long gone, after all.

"My style is Niman. It has a basis in all forms - the jack of all trades. Master of nothing, proficient in everything." He explained. "One who uses Niman is unpredictable. Our move sets take notes from every lightsaber form. We incorporate the force in our abilities far more than most warriors."

He leveled his blade toward her. Then another flew across the room. It exploded from under his bed, crashing into his hand with a dull thud. The hilt was long, more like a protosaber than a traditional lightsaber. It hissed when it came alive, casting a violet glow within the circular chambers.

"I recognize your style, Shii-cho. A good choice, but you need to be flexible. Rely as much on your environment as your weapon. It's the only way you can outmatch a more experienced opponent."

Then he was upon her, twin blades, one violet, the other cyan, hissing for her blood as he span about, the two weapons broadsiding from the right toward her midriff.

[member="Ceska Starshield"]

 

[huggin_munnin]

Ceska used the moment to catch her breath and looked on in surprise as his other weapon flew into his hand. Jar'kai, she thought; she could change tactics too. Though she was not as skilled in it's use, she went into Ataru mode and somersaulted over the horizontal cuts coming at her. Landing on her toes, she rode the momentum into a spinning slash only for Cyril's cyan blade to meet it in a drop parry behind his back. He spun and brought the purple blade in a low sweep and Ceska hopped over it and was forced to duck the blue blade streaking towards her head.

Rather than block this flurry, she though better of it and back flipped away, bolstered by the Force. Ataru really had no defense except movement and putting your foe on defense themselves. She came forward with the 'Hawk-bat Swoop', a classic Form IV technique, but Cyril knew it too and his blades turned aside every cut with seeming ease. Ceska gritted her teeth in frustration and was forced to cartwheel to her left to avoid a lightning-fast thrust.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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The girl was progressing, but she was no master of the blade. Not yet. He spun on her, violet blade screaming toward her as it sliced through the air where she had been just a moment before. She'd cartwheeled. Smart.

He whirled about, blades crossing at his waist as he marched forward. The momentum gave him force behind his own strength. The speed at which he came at Ceska was far greater than he had ever expressed, a short burst of energy one might associate with Juyo.

Then the lightsabers shot outward, one carving from left hip to right shoulder, the other going the opposite. The powerful strikes were aimed toward her lightsaber, hoping strictly to disarm the girl, and perhaps send her stumbling.

[member="Ceska Starshield"]

 

[huggin_munnin]

He was attempting to pin her in a corner and she was quickly running out of maneuvering room. Ceska realized that and knew that she had to do something fast, too her reserve of stamina was beginning to become dangerously low. His blade came up and ripped the lightsaber from her grasp, sending the weapon flying into the right wall. She realized she was beaten at that point, his blades forming an x across her neck.

She was panting as she frowned at him, sweat pouring. Clearly he was a wily veteran to have withstood her barrage and come out without even a single mark. It rankled her even still, her bladework being a point of pride. It had been like he knew exactly when she would attack and his blade was always in the way just at the last second. Incredibly frustrating.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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The gentle hiss of his twin blades spelled the end of their duel. The lightsabers disengaged as soon as she was disarmed, and quickly found places on either side of his belt. He offered a small smile, one of approval rather than any form of condescension.

"You did well for what it's worth Ceska. Jarkai is difficult to counter. The key is to use your environment to your advantage." He instructed, arms folding over his chest. Niman in itself was all about improvisation. Victory was rarely bought with bladework alone.

"The form I've been trained in since I was a small child has been Niman. It borrows aspects from every form, and allows you the most versatility. As a Jedi, you should do your best to at least learn its basics. I assure you many others will employ it as I do." He added, studying the girl.

"You need to let the force take hold of you. Let is guide your blade, rather than yourself. Then, you will surpass me, and I suppose I'll be calling you master."

[member="Ceska Starshield"]

 

[huggin_munnin]

"Niman, the style without a style."

Ceska summoned her lightsaber into her hand then clipped it on her belt.

"Overwhelming force usually solves my problems. Usually, but you've proven me wrong."

She dipped her head in deference before meeting his eyes again.

"Teach me Niman, Master Grayson. Teach me moderation and adaptation."

She smiled, a genuine smile of a student willing and eager to learn.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Cyril lofted a brow. Could it be? Was the humility she was showing? It certainly caught him by surprise. He had taken note of Ceska as a hard case when they'd met - talent, but little in the way of discipline. Perhaps he had been wrong in his initial thoughts.

"As you wish." He agreed, somewhat resigned. He stepped forward, closing a bit of the distance between himself and the Padawan, and ignited his cyan blade. "Niman is quite unlike the other forms. It incorporates a great amount of the force in our combat techniques, and our bladework is far more relaxed than usual."

He gave a slow cross swing, left shoulder to ankle against an imaginary target, then a slightly faster cut across the invisible midriff, ending with a powerful overhand strike that would have cleaved any opponent in two.

"The goal is to maintain an even offense along with a defense. To test your opponent, and ready for the powerful strike."

[member="Ceska Starshield"]

 

[huggin_munnin]

Ceska absorbed these words without speaking, her thoughts focused like they had been in sparring beforehand. Niman had always been a confusing subject to her, seeming to lack a definite focus. Every Form seemed to have a definition except the sixth. Ceska liked to have things defined.

The greatest swordsmen always had no real shape to their style, however. They took bits and pieces of everything and it worked as they saw fit. Her own Master had based his style in Shien but he had never been a slave to it's movements. If she was to become a blademaster, she needed to blur whatever lines there were.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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He watched her reactions with great interest. Now a word came from Padawan Ceska, but he knew his lesson was taken to heart. He could see it in her eyes. She was a smart girl, but everything needed explaining at one point or another, and to use Niman in deadly form took dedication. It was an art few force users ever bothered to practice - but its greatest practitioners often shaped the galaxy itself.

"With other lightsaber forms, your skill comes from your bladework. With Niman, like Vaapad and Juyo, it's more mental. You need to master yourself before you can begin to comprehend the complexities Niman presents you." He explained, pacing slowly around the room.

"One must open his or herself to the force, and become its vessel. Then you'll react accordingly to any situation. So I ask, Ceska, what's holding you back?" He asked softly, coming to a halt. "Every Jedi has to master them self in one way or another. We all had obstacles that kept us from the force - what are yours?"

[member="Ceska Starshield"]

 

[huggin_munnin]

And there it was, that question, and she averted her gaze, looking at the. Her answer was a long time coming and she had to fight her urge to simply turn on her heel and storm off. He wasn't her master, after all, and that's what she would've and had done since the death of her former mentor. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"I...," she whispered whilst still looking down "I am afraid. I'm afraid of the Dark Side inside me. The anger, the hate...it feels like it's always there."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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What assailed Ceska was not uncommon. Many young Jedi found themselves victims to their own emotions. They were only people after all - no matter how much one trained to ignore them, everyone felt things in one form or another. It was just the way sentients were. A Jedi needed to learn this, confront it, and accept it. It was okay to feel things. It was long to let those feelings rule you.

"When I was younger, I was raised among the Sith. I was the former Sith Emperor's hand." Cyril explained. "When I was freed, all that drove me was my hatred for my former master. My life was devoted to ending his. Rage was all I knew."

He strolled over to the Padawan, and settled a firm hand on her shoulder. "My sister helped me overcome my darkness. She gave me something to fight for - more than an ideal, or a need to satisfy myself with blood. SO you have to ask yourself the question Ceska, what do you ave that's worth protecting?"

[member="Ceska Starshield"]

 

[huggin_munnin]

Ceska looked up with confusion in her eyes, her hand reflexively twitching towards her lightsaber hilt. That was how strongly she felt about the Sith that she had to restrain herself. With a deep breath, she relaxed and let her hand fall.

"I also spent some time with the Dark Jedi," she began "After my Master died, it was so easy to succumb to my emotions."

Indeed it had been, the Dark Side was always seductive and full of whispered promises. It was patient and generous, powerful beyond any knowing except a true master. She had merely scratched the surface and already she felt that malevolent resivoir, bottomless darkness to draw upon.

"Too easy, it was too easy and it made me powerful beyond anything else has."

She nodded to his words.

"I have the people of worlds like this one to fight for. And I have the Force to guide me."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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​"Power is a brief, fleeting thing. It's never guaranteed, and you'll lose it just s quickly as you might gain it." Cyril replied, offering a small half-smile to the Padawan.

He understood what she meant by the ease of it. The strength of one's own emotions was monumental. The temptation to give in to them even more so. His youth had been wracked with constant change - war, political upheaval, religious collapse, during all of which his faith in the Dark Side had carried him through.

In the end though, it'd turned on him just as it did everyone else.

"Your feelings are a danger to your duty. Contrary to what some Jedi preach, we do feel. Emotion is a real thing for us. We need to confront it, stare it in the eye, accept it, and set it aside for duty. Our true strength is not the ability to empty of ourselves of our feelings, it is to set them aside, and let the force itself guide our hand. To, for a moment, become something other than mortal, and serve the galaxy in whatever it may need."

[member="Ceska Starshield"]

 

[huggin_munnin]

"That's...a lot to think on."

Spending much of her training with a lightsaber over the last 20 years as a Youngling and a Padawan had meant leaving deep philosophical quandaries to the scholarly types. All initiates learned about the Code and it's underlying meanings and yet that was the surface of a vast ocean. Countless beings had spent lifetimes exploring the immeasurable depths of the Force. She wasn't one of them, in truth, preferring the Living Force to guide her hand.

"Is that all for today?," she asked "If it is, I should head back and ready my gear."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]