Playing Catch-Up

[Jorus Merrill]

YAVIN IV

Of all the lightsabre combat trainers in the Jedi Order, Jorus trusted the owl the most.

He and Quorl went back a very long way, long before either one of them had been Jedi or even known they were Force-sensitives. They'd been young then, Jorus a Rebel and a smuggler, [member="Quorl"] little more than a puffball owlet. He'd given the Rishi a ride, helped him get to the Jedi Order, and the rest was history. They'd touched base more than once in the intervening years, and though Jorus couldn't have called the Rishi a close friend, they admired and respected each other's work. In the years since Quorl became a Jedi Master, and especially since the deaths or disappearances of Ben Watts, Darron Wraith, Je'gan Olra'en and Kiskla Grayson, Quorl had distinguished himself as one of the finest classical combat instructors alive. The owl's silent lessons and grueling survival excursions were legendary among young Jedi. Quorl's instruction was a punishing but rewarding experience, by all accounts.

Jorus' background lay in shockboxing, grappling, and hitting things with a shotgun. He'd fenced for a while, with a sword his sister had made for him. He knew the theory and principles of the Forms backwards and forwards, mainly by osmosis, but had little of the muscle memory to fit. When it came to the lightsabre, he knew himself to be an armchair quarterback. And that needed to change.

On the hidden world of Ahch-To, [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] had worked with him on the basics, and he'd been satisfied with what he'd learned from the young Knight. But when it came to compressing a lifetime's worth of technique and instinct into a short, soul-searing experience, nobody beat the owl.

 

[Quorl]

To help with depth perception quorl bobbed his head slowly up and down looking down from his perch at [member="Jorus Merrill"]. Ah sweet featherless Jorus. Quorl remembered it as if it were yesterday. He hadn't even grown in his flight feathers yet, which let me tell you was a milestone for avian species. A handsome, at least according to female companions, rogue came to him and took him away on a shiny rock. Of course it was a starship! He had remembered seeing the galaxy for the first time. There was a lot of shiny things and for his nest and Quorl had wanted all the shiny things.

With a quick flutter of wings Quorl dropped down to the ground near Jorus. He hopped forward on his feet before depositing a bit of metal onto the ground. There was a cylinder and an old droid eye. “So about that trade….” he started, as he often did. He was hoping Jorus bought the shiny synth fabric string. It would be a perfect addition to his nest. His head bobbed up and down excitedly for a moment before he dipped his beak to the ground and pushed the old droid eye over toward Jorus. “How long has it been?” Quorl turned his head to peer behind him and let out a little screech. Echo location. there was things in the jungles of Yavin and it was all very exciting.

He had considered what method he’d use to teach Jorus. It couldn’t be demeaning, Jorus was a master after all, and wasn’t in need of humility like many a young padawan. Of course with their history Jorus was showing an amazing amount of trust. There was an incident when Quorl was younger when he thought Jorus was afraid to fly and so waited for the young man to be in a high spot and pushed. Then again perhaps Jorus needed a push. Perhaps that would be the right response.

“When you are ready to begin,” Quorl said noting the surrounding area. “A relaxing day I have planned.”

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Quorl"]

Ah, the rituals of the Rishi. Jorus had stopped by a craft store -- or the Port Shardrock equivalent -- and come up with a slim braid of local plant fibres, iridescent purple. He exchanged it for the droid eye. "Too fething long, is what it's been. You know my kid's a Master now? I mean, she's not going to be throwing spaceships anytime soon, but..." Jorus tapped his temple. "She gets it, up here. It's been that much fething time.

"But as for relaxation, Quorl, I hope you're being a little sarcastic. There's Acolytes running around that could take me apart blade-to-blade." He found he was resting his hand on the newly constructed lightsabre at his belt. He unclipped it and held it out for Quorl's inspection. A simple weapon, as lightsabres went. The closest thing to a special feature was the waterproof casing. Padawans had made more complicated sabres.

"You know I know what I'm asking for when I say I need to unlearn what I've learned."

 

[Quorl]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

The wisen owl examined the weapon for a moment. It was simple, staid in appearance compared to many of the more luxurious sabers found throughout the galaxy. It suited Jorus, no nonsense, just efficiency. For his part he accepted the little bits of string placing it in a satchel at his side and turned a wing beckoning Jorus to follow him down a jungle path.“Come,” he said with an excited bobbing of his head. As he walked down the path he noted a number of animals to Jorus, using his keen senses to find even those hidden in thick underbrush. After a few minutes there was an awkward silence. “I met your daughter,” he said. “She attended one of my courses. You did a good job pushing her from the nest.” Was that the right terminology? Quorl wasn’t sure, humans often confused the Rishi’s words.

Finally the pair arrived at the clearing. Quorl had arranged a number of posts cut short just above Jorus’s knees. They were arrayed in a strange circular pattern across the ground. Quorl positioned Jorus at an opening in the posts. “You need to walk around the perimeter and spiral inwards until you are in the center of the circle. Then you are to Spiral outward again.” Quorl grabbed a stick that had been resting on a nearby tree and perched atop one of the little pillars. “Keep your head lower than this stick,” he said holding it out straight in front of him. “Any lower and your legs are bent too much and your rump or legs will scrape against the wooden pillar.”

Jorus started to stand a bit more to give himself some safety. Quorl lashed out with the stick swaying it level from side to side. Jorus ducked of course avoiding it. “Any higher and you will be smacked.”

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Quorl"]

Jorus took the complement in stride, with a mumbled acknowledgement, already pondering the challenge ahead. He moved his head side to side, owlishly, shifting perspective to get an idea of how the posts were arranged relative to each other. The spiral pattern started to make sense, but the exercise-

Ah. Quorl really was going back to basics. Jorus Q. Merrill was about to learn how to walk.

The hand-to-hand styles he'd learned had offered similar training, but that had all been fairly linear. Forward, back, side to side, diagonal. But a spiral course meant adjustment, which meant attention and conscious thought, which meant an increased likelihood of his head bobbing like an...owl.

Eyeing the stick, Jorus nodded and bent his knees a little. He moved into the spiral course, feet inscribing crescents. In, ankle brushes ankle, out again. Not exactly symmetrical, not with the necessity of the spiral, but close enough. Step by step, aiming to maximize efficiency of the forward component of his motion, he worked his way into the spiral.

 

[Quorl]

Jorus only needed a few good smacks with the stick before he learned to keep his head down. He was a master afterall. Still Quorl kept the stick swinging above him hopping along atop the logs as Jorus moved through the course. “Good,” Quorl said hopping onto another post. “Tired you will be, but it’s worth it.” Quorl wasn’t the best at galactic basic, at least not all the time. “Every movement must be of use. It is a waste to do otherwise. When you step, you move not just to engage with your upper body. Your feet circle, twist, and conform. Your legs move in this manner and sweep the enemy as you attack with your arms, or entangle their legs and keep them in place. But if your legs are weak you become entangled and may fall.”

Quorl puffed himself up as he hopped onto the ground next to the man. He put a stick up in front of him to halt his movements and then used the force to pull another to him and take up a stance in front of Jorus. Slowly he moved in a manner as if he were striking trying his best demonstrate a strike through the poles. “Environment in a fight can be as vital as well.” Quorl moved his feet through the motions and struck one of the logs hard with the birdlike equivalent of the shin. The wood splintered as he hit in.

“We will fight now, in a circle. Take your best shot at me as we move in the pattern.” Quorl would stay on the defensive, for now, only blocking the incoming blows, and watching Jorus maneuver the course with concerns other than just concentrating on not bumping his shins or knees.

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Quorl"]

The spiral-shaped potential courses constrained him in more than just a physical way. They tempted him to step too far on the inside of the curve, or too short on the outside. They made him split his attention between footwork -- not his strongest suit -- and the upper-body sabre...stuff. Definitely not his strongest suit. It had taken him this long, this much effort, to get the rudiments of muscle memory for shockboxing and grappling, but that was decades back. Frankly, it had been a long dang time since he'd learned anything new, completely from scratch, at least not anything physical. He accumulated his share of stick whacks along the way. Oh, he was quick enough, in good shape, but this wasn't his first attempt at learning the lightsabre. In general, he was just...not that great when it came to glowey long blades. Knives -- he could do knives. Shotguns. Bludgeons. He had a pair of cortosis cestuses -- cestii? -- that had served him pretty well. But this wasn't about what he could already do. It was about buckling down and humbling himself and seeing what happened.