Fresh wounds (training thread)

[Kal Strife]

Watching intently, the Corellian studied his apprentice as the other man set about addressing the weaves and levitating the crates. Though he would never admit it, he was pleased with how quickly [member="Raziel"] had adapted his methods, for many a man - particularly amongst those who followed the creed of the Sith - would have been too stubborn to accept another's technique as superior without far greater a struggle.

"You're a quick study," he mused aloud, nodding thoughtfully at his apprentice as he did, "That's good. You may even survive this." Softening those last words with a hint of a wry smile, Strife raised a hand to gesture toward the crate as its bobbed through the air. Instantly, the weaves of energy Raziel was manipulating were snared and tangled amidst dozens of other weaves which twisted and pulled in conflicting directions, threatening to tear the crate from the air. "Adapt," he commanded, "You will rarely need to use the Force when you aren't in danger, so you must be able to think on your feet. Show me you know how."

It was an unfair command, the Corellian knew that, but he'd never claimed to be fair.

 

[Raziel]

Immediately Raziel attempted to resist the opposing forces. The crate held together as he tighted his grip, but he knew it would be to no avail. Kal’s influence was an inorexable increase in pressure that would rend the crate apart. Preferring agility to brute force anyway, his mind raced to try and find a solution.

He attempted to try and slide the crate out of Kal’s powerful grip. Carefully he countered Kal’s grip where it was weakest and started to move object along the line of the Master’s strongest pull. It groaned but started to move, ever so slowly teasing its way out of [member="Kal Strife"]'s grip.

Then it came to a stop. There was a screech as the opposing forces snared the crate once again and it teetered on the balance between escape and destruction.

 

[Raziel]

The crate shattered, ripping apart into several pieces that flew apart. Raziel's shouldered sagged from the exertion.

"Keep practising," Kal instructed. Without another word, he turned on his heel and left.

OOC/ closing this off