Is it Something I Said? ( Open: Need Master )

[Aldo Zarkot]

Aldo picked at his fingernails as he sat cross legged on a bench watching the training area for all of the new Knights of Obsidian members. A large staff leaned against him as he shook his foot and lazily removed the dirt from under his nails. He made a mental note to cut them after the days training, he hated it when his appearance was not one hundred percent perfect, even though from the outside looking in he was extremely well groomed. The groaning of a man, followed by a thump, caught his attention and he looked up to see the alpha male standing over him.

Oh yes, he had taken note of the man, he was challenging anyone to a fight in the middle of the grounds and he had one every single one. He was a good fighter, smart, knew how to use that training sword he swung around in his hand, and he was stronger than he looked. But he was dumb, using the same moves over and over again, and Aldo had already discovered the extent of his abilities.

To everyone there, he was a new recruit, a hopeful who one day wished to call himself a Knight of Obsidian. In reality, he cared not about their little group, but he had been placed there by.... well, someone much higher up on the food chain than himself. On the upside he could learn some fancy new tricks with that whole force garbage he apparently could control, magic, sorcery, whatever the hell it was. No matter, he could use the training, and he was not so foolish as to think he was the strongest person in the Galaxy. But he was more skilled than the alpha male this day.

Having enough of the mans nonsense, Aldo lifted himself from his seat, grabbing the training staff and spinning it around one good time before he held it behind his back gracefully. Hopefully this would garner the attention of one of the masters of the Knights and they would take him on as an apprentice or whatever they called it.

"Fancy yourself a warrior I assume?" Aldo made his presence known as he approached the man, he was taller than Aldo, but he could not stand up to the charisma the Aldo possessed.

"More of a warrior than a pretty boy like you!" The man was aggressive, as well he should have been, he had been fighting for a good while now and his testosterone was more than likely flowing through the roof.

Aldo smirked and gracefully began to spin the staff in his hands very quickly, very flashy, but no real point other than intimidation. After a few spins and turns, he placed the staff in front of him, a smile formed on his face. "Show me."

As if he was running to open up a birthday present, the man charged at Aldo, swinging the sword with power and speed. Aldo feinted to the right, smashed his sword to the ground, and spinning around his fist slammed into the mans throat. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, but Aldo was not finished yet. He ran his staff up the mans blade and smacked him in the face with it, sending him sprawling to his back, and then with a spin he slammed the end of his spear into the mans stomach and leaned against it, holding the man to the ground.

"You should never charge a man when you are not aware of his abilities. Tsk, tsk, tsk." He chuckled and lifted the staff off of the mans staff and made his way back over to his little bench. That should have been sufficient enough a display to gain someone attention.

 

[Raziel]

[member="Aldo Zarkot"]

Raziel slowly strode across the training hall, considering which role he was going to fall into today. His old Sith masters had used fear to bring their trainees into line, but that had always seemed wasteful. He could be a benevolent teacher, kind and caring, using his empathy to alleviate their concerns and keep them focussed.

He decided on a middle ground, stern but respectful. Raziel simply didn't know what kind of teacher he was, because he didn't know what kind of man he was. Still, altering his technique to the student had always worked out well before.

One by one the training swords and staves were pulled from their owners. They skittered across the ground for form a pile at his feet. Heads turned and silence fell.

“I was told to come here to teach the latest batch of trainees some basic forms. Are you those trainees?” he called. Someone moved to reply and Raziel shot him a look that shut his mouth. “You seem a babbling pack of apes, more intent on hitting each other with sticks. No, no, instead you will spend some time in study. You all need to think about why you are here and discover your connection to the Force.

You have been granted to the basic sections of our library, there you may spend some time in solitude studying. You may ask questions, as long as they are not stupid. Read them, mediate and consider the meaning of the Force. There will be a test to see if you can begin to utilise the most basic, yet fundamentally important powers: sense.” Raziel dropped a small box to the ground and kicked open the lid.


“You will each be consigned to a cell until you can display your connection to the Force. Within each cell are some of the Order's texts. Read them, mediate and consider the meaning of the Force.” Raziel explained. They all had questions, but he had exerted enough mental control to silence their voices and keep their feet planted to the floor. He reached down beneath him to pick up a plain wooden box.

“These are known as Schrowdinger’s Spheres.” Raziel stated as he opened the wooden box. He lifted a pair of small metal spheres from the box. Identical in appearance, about ten centimetres wide and with a matt silver surface. “There are five spheres in the box. They are special because each sphere has a core made of a different material; wood, gel, metal, gas and a vacuum. They are wonderful constructions, built to be outwardly identical in appearance, weight, spin and feel. Without specialist scanning equipment the only way to find out what is inside is to open them. However the Force has no such limitations.

“Come and find me what you want to attempt the test, if you do not pass before the end of the fortnight, you will have failed.” he said the words, not elaborating on what failure entailed. “Once you have passed we will begin on some basic forms. I will teach you the basic motions of this form and you will start to practise – without slapping each other with sticks.

“And you two...” he said, pointing towards the most recent combatants. One of them had some genuine talent, the other simply thought he did. “I'm going to send one of my senior trainees down here with a staff every day. You will put on a blindfold and he will strike you in the side of the head. You will need to learn to sense the strike coming and dodge if you want to continue.”


OOC/ That should give you something to work on over a few posts, I'm off for two weeks