Rusty Hinges

[Nicair Claden]

It had been months since he'd stepped foot in this building. This hall. Adorning the walls were banners of one philosophy and language or another. Some were states of mind, some were as simple as the word "Iron" or the closest word the culture had to it. Weapons of all shapes and sizes decorated the lower section of the walls, all easily in reach. Extra hand wrappings hung from pegs. Most had stained blood coating them. An assortment of padding sat around the hall. Gloves, shin and elbow guards, thigh and abdomen protectors, headgear even. Free standing bags could be hoisted higher or lower as the user deemed fit. Posts for the hardening of bone and tissue ran like columns down the length of the hall. Concoctions of herbal oils for pain relief, inflammation reduction, and healing were often close by as was tape for the setting of dislocated fingers or sprains. All there was in the back was a couple bedrolls and a wooden tub. Water had to be carried in from outside. The temperature at its hottest was around 60 degrees Fahrenheit in this part of the world. During this season it was usually 45, around 20 at night.

If he had a concept of hallowed ground. This was it. He prayed here, in his own way and to his own deities that not even he could name.

Most of the people of this planet were agrarian in nature. There were only a few spaceports on the entire planet and some towns only had one speeder. He'd chosen this spot for its isolation and its calm serenity. He lived a life of violence with a mind that would rather destroy itself than let him rest. If he wasn't on the battlefield trying to die, in the underbelly of some city trying to die, or jumping off or out of something, he was here. The air just sat well with him. The chill settled his bones and tightened his muscles just enough.

It had been a bit of a walk along the path to reach his hall. He left his speeder in a small clearing he'd constructed a sort of garage in. There was enough room for another, he'd made it that way in the chance he hurt himself too much to move and required the assistance of a doctor from the nearest town. He'd protect the locals in the eventuality of pirate or bandit attacks but most knew to stay away. Whether they knew him by his 'gam or by his face it didn't matter. He'd sit alone up here, mostly his time was spent living simply and training. Using what supplies he wanted to or hunting for what he needed if he wished for a more spartan lifestyle. Meditation took practice, but it kept him from extremes of emotion and self destructive behaviors.

This place was cleansing to him. It was a returning to roots. The light snowfall already melting crunched under his boots. He placed one hand affectionately on the door before placing the ungloved hand on a reader. The door seemed to grind open, squeaking against the slightly rusted metal. The air that rushed out to greet him carried a chill against his face, devoid of helmet. He'd need to light the fires again, get this place warmed up. Rekindle the forge while he waited.

[member="Judas Wayne"]

 

[Judas Wayne]

It had been a while.​

​

A man wearing a black hooded sweatshirt walked through the near-empty streets of the small town, musing over the locale. Since he arrived he had yet to see a living soul; this place was pretty much remote as remote as it gets. The snow-covered path before him bore only one set of footprints, footprints leading up to a faded wooden structure with rusted-over metal doors laying slightly ajar. That could only be his destination.​

​

The hooded figure pulled open the heavy doors to the old training hall, cast iron hinges creaking loudly after many years of disuse. He stepped through the entryway and entered the makeshift gym, looking around at the rustic weaponry and worn equipment. This was a far fetch from the state-of-the-art facilities that he had grown used to while training on Roon. However, this was a refreshing change from what he had grown accustomed to. Sometimes it was better to go back to the basics. Many opponents he would face in the years to come wouldn't have the advantage of training in some million-dollar lab, yet they would still fight just as well regardless of the fact. He had to learn to think like his enemy by training like his enemy, and that is what he planned to do.​

​

Judas Wayne removed his hood, turning his gaze to the man current lighting several braziers around the room. This must be the man he had hired to train him in hand-to-hand combat. "I appreciate you sticking to the whole 'discretion' aspect of our agreement. I take it you're Nicair?"​

​

[member="Nicair Claden"]​

 

[Nicair Claden]

He'd heard the steps from outside and could monitor their approach while going about his business. One of the benefits of situating himself in an area where the air is so incredibly still and with little in the way of background noise to corrupt the quiet. He'd have to oil the doors enough that they didn't scare away food sources, but not enough that they could be opened without waking those inside the hall. The reader he installed was of a fairly good variety, but it never hurts to be prepared and on more than one occasion the simplest measures are the best.

Save for a small glance he didn't do much in the way of acknowledging his soon to be student until spoken to.

"I am. You're Wayne I assume. There's a room in the back to set your things. Where would you like to begin?"

[member="Judas Wayne"]

 

[Judas Wayne]

Judas headed to the back room, setting his small duffel bag down in the corner. Again, he marveled at the rustic nature of the building they were in. It was obviously quite old, the wood weathered from many years of abuse from the elements. He assumed his host had some kind of personal connection to this place. After all, what were the chances that he had previous knowledge of a fully-functional gym on this backwater planet unless he had spent time here before? Perhaps he grew up in this village. Perhaps this is where he learned to fight.​

​

Wayne walked back into the main room, scanning the tools that lined the walls. He saw all sorts of things there, everything from sparring sticks to hand wrapping. Judas noted that the heavy bags were worn from constant use; someone definitely spent a lot of time here. He assumed he's be spending much time here in the coming months.​

​

"I've always found Teräs Käsi quite intriguing, so maybe we could start there. At the end of the day I want to learn all there is to know about hand-to-hand combat. Train me in what you see fit, and we can build from there. I'll defer to your judgement in where is best to begin."​

​

[member="Nicair Claden"]​

 

[Nicair Claden]

Nicair gave a couple short nods, at least he had a starting point, though it might not be where Wayne wanted it to be. If someone was going to go up against a Sith, Jedi, or Gray without a lightsaber themselves speed had to be of the essence unless someone had armor strong enough to deflect the blow of the blade. While such armor wasn't uncommon anymore, most save beskar would eventually fail. It was challenging to find armor strong enough to be used on the battlefield while also provided enough mobility to avoid strikes. Sacrifices had to be made somewhere it the design. If a style could be used in and out of armor, however, he deemed it worth learning no matter how limited it was in thick protections. Teräs Käsi, thankfully, was an incredibly useful style no matter who was being fought. There were certain gaps in it, but nothing knowledge of other styles couldn't fill.

He had it in spades. He also had training sabers.

As with any style the first step was the proper stance. Teräs Käsi had an unusual one that had taken Nicair some time getting used to. It wasn't a style he practiced on its own much anymore as he preferred to blend, mix and match different techniques and styles to fill in the gaps of knowledge and cover possible breaches or shortcomings. The thing with different stances is that they change based on build and body type. Someone taller might need to get lower for stability, someone with smaller legs might need to distance them apart a little more so they don't topple over. He called it the sticker stance, no one ever really does it perfectly or even should. His stance might be different, but it doesn't restrict his ability to perform the techniques, if anything it gives him more versatility. When fighting force users, not having versatility can get you killed very quickly.

He forced Wayne to maintain the stance in his movements. If his form ever slipped he'd send a light kick or a push as a check for Wayne's technique. A stance should be something that a martial artist reverts to on instinct and can remain in for an extended period of time based on how long combat ensues. If his student fell he'd learn through trial and error.

[member="Judas Wayne"]

 

[Judas Wayne]

Judas attempted to get into a proper Teräs Käsi stance, which in itself was quite a difficult task for the 6'3" Epicanthix. His opponent was a few inches shorter than him, meaning he had to slightly bend his knees to get even with Claden. This, in turn, was quite strenuous on his thighs. Judas was in excellent physical shape, but nevertheless after a few minutes he started to feel the burn in his legs. He still had a long way to go.​

​

He would inadvertently relax from the stance from time to time, earning him a sharp kick from Nicair that would prove his stance to be weak. Before long sweat would begin to pool on the old wooden floorboards beneath their feet as Wayne continued to concentrate on his form. As time went on it became more and more difficult to maintain the stance, and finally a well-placed kick from Nicair sent him sprawling to the floor.​

​

Judas sat up, sweat glistening on his forehead. This would be more difficult than he had anticipated, but he was ready for the challenge. The hotter the fire, the stronger the steel. Wayne got to his feet, resuming the stance his instructor had taught him. He gave Nicair a bit of a tired half-smile, his determination shining through the ache and strain of his muscles.​

​

"I could do this all day."​

​

[member="Nicair Claden"]​

 

[Nicair Claden]

They'd been at it for quite some time. Wayne was in excellent shape, but in different martial arts physical condition only gets one so far if the proper technique isn't there. More than once Nicair had held striking pads for a truly physical specimen that asked to be pushed. So Nicair pushed. And said specimen was vomiting within two rounds. He knew of other instructors that could do it after one. Maybe he'd gone soft.

Wayne was handling Nicair's push well. Good. It meant he could push a little more. The best instructors know how to find that limit and dance on the edge of it. But this was just the start, all the fun drills and more active sessions were yet to come. The man had grit, he'd give him that.

He'd need it.

In any case, from now on he'd earned the privilege of being helped to his feet if he goes down. It was an old school trick his adoptive father would do if he saw anyone not help up or be helped up it meant they weren't training hard enough. So he'd ramp up the energy until they physically had to rely on each other to continue. Nicair wasn't going to do that, he didn't think he'd need to.

"Good. Tomorrow we will. Go get some water from the stream, mop the floor and clean yourself up. There's a basin in the back you can dump your bathing water in. When you mop, keep your stance. Adjust it to suit the situation. I'll lay out a bedroll for you once you're done. From this point forward this hall is your home. You clean it, you fix it, you sand the floors if the wood is leaving splinters. Once we get into grappling we'll move over to the mat sections, you'll be responsible for those too. Understood. Bow out and get some rest."

Nicair kept his hands to his sides, his bow wasn't too low, eyes up facing Wayne.

He would exit the hall and take his place on a small outside veranda. He kept his movements slow, running through some of the different forms. Usually forms are good for giving martial artists something to focus on, unless they are done with force and the opponent knows the movements that would correspond to the specific techniques of the form itself it had varied applicability. Nicair had spent quite some time training his imagery skills to picture an opponent there, to hear, see, feel, and even taste their presence. To start it was simple routines he'd done countless times, just letting his body flow. Before long he adapted to a more free flow exercise if it was possible to describe an imagined opponent in one's head as being a truly free entity.

[member="Judas Wayne"]

 

[Judas Wayne]

Judas grasped Nicair's forearm as he helped him up off the floor. He wouldn't lie, he was glad to hear that training was done for the day. They had been at it for hours and Judas hadn't eaten since lunch. This fact was reaffirmed with a not-so-subtle growling of his stomach as he began to stretch out. He was pretty certain he'd be quite sore come morning.​

​

As Nicair laid out the tasks before him, Judas hesitated for a brief second. Him, being the wealthy corporate CEO that he was, wasn't used to menial labor. That wasn't to say he objected to it, just that he wasn't used to it. Not that it mattered; if he was going to become the person he was meant to be then much more difficult tasks awaited him in the future. "I understand, I'll keep this place up and running."​

​

With that, Judas returned the older man's bow. He went a little farther down than his instructor did as a sign of respect for the other man. With that, he went out back and grabbed an old mop bucket sitting by a lone post protruding from the ground. The young man grimaced as he wiped out some old cobwebs and dirt from the bucket, it hadn't seen use in quite some time. He didn't have to go far to find the stream, one could hear the water flowing over the rocks all the way from the from the front entrance. He brought the bucket back inside, opting to mop before he bathed. Wayne found a tub of soap in the back, mixing it into the mop water to create something acceptable for cleaning. He spent what he reckoned was about an hour cleaning the whole place. It was apparent nobody had been here in a while, as he had to change the water out constantly due to the vast amounts of dust coming up off the floor. He maintained his fighting stance throughout the process, his already-exhausted legs groaning in protest as he did so. Tomorrow will definitely be one hell of day, he thought to himself as he struggled to stay on his feet.​

​

After he was done, Judas made his way back down to the stream for probably the twentieth time that evening to fetch water for his bath. The weather was quite brisk, causing the stream's water to be downright cold. After pouring the water into the basin, he looked around for some kind of heating apparatus for the water. There wasn't one, as far as he could tell. Maybe he could could ask Nicair for some coal, but he figured the cold water would be good for his muscles anyways. He he slid into the basin, his entire body tensing up upon contact with the chilly water. He cleaned himself quickly, as the cold water mixed with the brisk nighttime air offered no relief from the discomfort he was feeling.​

​

Judas waddled back inside wrapped from head to toe in some towels he had found waiting for him just past the doorway, sitting down next to one of the braziers in an attempt to replenish some of his lost body heat. His stomach growled again, in a desperate attempt to remind him that he still hadn't eaten yet. He turned towards the dimly-lit doorway he had seen Nicair walk through, giving him a quick shout, "Hey, what do you have to eat around here?"​

​

[member="Nicair Claden"]​

 

[Nicair Claden]

He could hear Wayne go about the tasks before him. Or at the very least, a part of him heard it and it made sure to keep track of what was going on. The majority of his attention was devoted to his free forms. When Wayne called out to him, it took him a couple seconds before he was mentally capable of giving an answer. He didn't want to lose, not against his own mind. Not again.

There's a small building behind the hall with some rations. In the morning I'll show you where to lay traps for game. They reproduce quickly and their meat is high in protein. Anything else we need we'll go into town."

He made his way back into the hall. The man had done a good job. Nicair hadn't made it easy on him, but the first week in anything is always the hardest. There are certainly more efficient ways of training. But those are for the common individual and often lack the serious nature that he knew Wayne was wanting. The first week, sometimes first two weeks, are for building grit and willpower. Then the actual training begins. It pleased him, somewhat, this return to roots. He always ended up enjoying the training process, the tearing down and reforging of individuals. More than a few he'd put through his crucible there were times he wondered if they were still alive. There were some he didn't want to know, others he didn't care.

Life was simple out here, it was a simple planet. He gave one last deep inhale of the crisp air filtering in from outside before he gave a half nod half bow to Wayne took a seat in the middle of the hall. He'd meditate until Wayne got back with the rations.

[member="Judas Wayne"]

 

[Judas Wayne]

Judas would be the first to admit that he had zero idea on how to lay traps for game. It simply wasn't part of his upbringing. He had grown up in a privileged family back on Alderaan. His father had taking him hunting once or twice, but that was about as far as it went. They always had a small army of servants to take care of that sort of business on their behalf.​

​

It mattered not, trapping for small game was something he figured he'd have to learn at some point or other. He groaned as he got to his feet, still wrapped in the towels he had used for his bath. The young businessman wandered away from the warm brazier and into the sub-twenty degree weather awaiting him outside. The cold hit him like a train. He shuddered at the sudden change in temperature, but trudged over to small shack nonetheless. Its hinges were frozen shut, so he had to give it a powerful kick to get inside. Judas look around the interior of the shack, there was much less food in there than he was expecting. Just a few days' worth, really. Makes sense for someone who hunts for most of their food, he mused to himself.​

​

He walked back into the training hall with two of the ration packs. He tossed one to Nicair before sitting back down at the brazier himself. He tore the pack open, wolfing down the food like someone who hadn't eaten in weeks. They ate in silence for several minutes, as Judas was solely concentrated on his eating meal for the time being. After a small while, Wayne would make a well-spirited attempt to make conversation. "How did you come across this place, anyways?"​

​

[member="Nicair Claden"]​

 

[Nicair Claden]

"The locals and I built it. Far enough away so as not to be disturbed but close enough to get to for aid. They have little use for galactic credits out here, so in exchange I stamped out one or two bandit groups operating in the area. If they require I train their men or teach them better smithing techniques. In exchange they provide supplies as they can spare."

He ate his food with reservation, savored what he could from the fairly simple rations. He tried to keep some Mandalorian packs here and there. They might not have tasted the best, but they were packed with nutrients. Everything a warrior needs in an easy to make container.

As he was explaining he couldn't help but consider the likelihood some of the local children would stop by and say hello. They didn't get to see many of the "space-people" and hear the curious way they spoke. Their language wasn't a difficult one to grasp, it was an offshoot of Galactic Basic, Nicair figured they were a colony that got forgotten about centuries ago and had time to develop on their own. More than a couple times they had walked over from the village and watched Nicair train, some of them trying to mimic what he was doing. These instances he'd do some of his flashier techniques, things that prize-fighters would do to increase entertainment value.

He'd send them on their way before too long with something small he'd picked up from one corner of the galaxy or another. A little something they can show their friends and make up little stories about where it came from and what it meant. This edge of the galaxy, stories were more valuable than any kind of currency.

It was a simple life. Peaceful. But Wayne would be trained for war and violence. If he can find his own sense of peace in the middle of it, then all the better. Nicair was still trying to find his.

[member="Judas Wayne"]

 

[Judas Wayne]

Judas nodded as the other man spoke. It seemed like a simple life, a peaceful life. He was all but a stranger to that sort of luxury. It was, as he saw it, his destiny to be a tool of justice and war throughout the Galaxy. There were too many being oppressed, too many being squished beneath the boot of the Sith and Jedi war machine for him to idly stand by. He could no longer watch ordinary citizens lose their livelihoods to someone else's ambitions, not when he had the power and resources to do something about it. Maybe he could live somewhere like this when his work was done, somewhere at the edge of the Galaxy where nobody could find him. For now though, he had work to do.​

​

"Why do you fight, Nicair? Fame, fortune, or something else?" Everyone had a reason for what they did. Judas fought for justice. The greater factions of the Galaxy fought for dominion. Some just fought to protect their homes. He was interested to know what his teacher's reasons were for fighting. He often found that a man's true personality came to light during times of war. He wondered, so to speak, who Nicair truly was.​

​

As he finished speaking, the young business magnate let out a not-so-subtle yawn. It had been a long day, and tomorrow wasn't going to be any easier. After they were done talking it'd probably be a good idea to get some rest, else he might be too exhausted to continue the next day.​

​

[member="Nicair Claden"]​

 

[Nicair Claden]

It took Nicair a few seconds to answer. In all truth he couldn't remember if he'd ever been asked that question before. He was raised a gladiator, killed a man far too early in his life. The easy answer was that it was all he'd ever known; it was one war to the next, one crime ridden planet with rabid animals to be put down after another. Simple, easy, no room for error, no thought involved. No time to contemplate or ruminate. It was the way an animal lived. Perhaps there was a time when his own personal Nicair was pursuing him. He knew as a certainty in the dark underbelly of planets he was a wanted man. He'd gone rabid once. Only once. But maybe that once was enough.

"I was forged in violence, it's only fair that I die in it as well. Get some rest, we start early."

It might not have been the answer Wayne was looking for, but it was the one Nicair felt suited the purpose best. There was a reason old slave gladiators often return to the pit or arena, it's the only thing they know how to do. He'd evolved over time, but only so much can change. Being a Sociph, not much does. There was a hole, for a time fighting with purpose makes it feel less empty. Nicair was a nomad, a vagabond. A wanderer doesn't like sitting still. It was time for rest, there would be less time for contemplation tomorrow.

[member="Judas Wayne"]

 

[Judas Wayne]

An interesting answer, albeit a somewhat depressing one. The other man seemed determined to allow his life to be dictated by war and violence. Judas had interacted with a fair amount of soldiers and mercenaries during his time at the Wayne Technologies advanced weaponry division, a common denominator he observed was that most of these seasoned warrior types never managed to do well with family life. There were, of course, a few souls here and there that managed to make it work. He had always respected that trait in others, the ability to find harmony where chaos reigned free.​

​

Technically speaking, he had no room to pretend his own life wouldn't likely follow a very similar path. He hadn't ventured out to the most remote fringes of the Galaxy to train for personal pleasure. He was forging himself into a living weapon. He was destined to become an agent of vengeance, a shield for those who could not defend themselves.​

​

A dark knight.​

​

Agreeing with Nicair's sentiment, Judas would unpack his sleeping roll and lay it out in the corner of the gym space. This place would become his home for the next several months, it would do him well to get used to his accommodations. With that he would fall into a light sleep, mentally steeling himself for what the coming weeks would hold.​

​

[member="Nicair Claden"]​

 

[Nicair Claden]

Nicair would allow Wayne to select his place in the hall. Rather than sleep, Nicair chose a small place near the rear of the hall, it was his own area. The sliding door moved with a small hiss of light wood on wood. Ever since he knew it was possible to meditate so deeply that one no longer required the usual recommended hours of sleep he had been attempting to reach such a point himself. If he were to believe the stories, among the Sociph it wasn't uncommon of a practice as it allowed them to maintain a relative level of alertness so that they could be on near constant guard against their own kind.

He could meditate, but not to such an extent. More than a few times in around the four or five hours he allowed for rest time he drifted off into a micro-sleep. Meditation was much like riding a bike or exercise in general, the mind needs practice. Though, in much the same way as hypnosis, once someone had been hypnotized, any attempt after was significantly easier. The windows around his room were positioned in such a way that he could determine the approximate time during the night that he would need to rise for traps.

Nicair detested using any sort of alarmed waking system. For now, Nicair would be Wayne's personal alarm clock. He allowed a slightly frustrated exhale at both his lack of deeper, more restful meditation as well as the groan of his body maintaining one position for so long and rose to his feet. He readied as much as he needed for their trek into the wilderness. The temperature was around 23 degrees Fahrenheit at this hour, they would have to cope with the chill. Wayne would learn how to dissociate himself from the pain and discomfort eventually. It wouldn't go away completely, but the mind would learn how to lower the volume so to speak.

The hall had a slight bite in the air as only one of the braziers was lit. The wood in this area burned long, they'd find some while they were out or use what Nicair had already cut. Hoisting up what he needed and carrying Wayne's supplies he would walk over to where the man was sleeping and nudge him with his foot.

"Wake up, food requires our attention."

Nicair started walking out of the hall immediately after he spoke the words. The location they would be trapping wasn't overall close, perhaps a couple miles into the wilderness which would add time to their journey. There weren't any paths out here, which meant game wasn't cautious of hunters, they just knew to avoid Nicair's buildings. Game, however, needed to remain as it was. Stealth had to be imperative. The traps and bait he kept wrapped in the furs of whatever it is they were for. If specific predators attempted to take the bait then so be it. Their meat, while slightly worse tasting, is filled with proteins. There is a particular omnivore in the area that greatly enjoys eating sweet fruits, the meat from the animal is quite tasty if a hunter is brave enough to try and kill it.

The first step before hunting large game, was to teach Wayne how to move quietly in the wilderness. He would lead the man through a route that contained many dead plant matter on the ground that would snap and crack when stepped on. There would always be sound, especially in the wild. The real trick is stepping quietly enough so prey doesn't notice. In the cities it's slightly easier, unless he's wearing his armor Nicair has very little trouble walking soft enough that he's practically silent. But the rules are different in the concrete jungles than in the actual ones. If Wayne can sneak up on prey out here, it is guaranteed he can do it in any city. Within reason.

[member="Judas Wayne"]

 

[Judas Wayne]

Judas was a light sleeper, the nudge from Nicair being enough to bring him to full alertness in just a few seconds. He was sore from the day previous but still nonetheless eager to continue his training. Those whom he would be facing in the years to come wouldn't hold back regardless of how sore or tired he was, so he didn't see any reason to go easy on himself now just because of a little muscular fatigue. The soreness would become new strength in due time, and through strength he would be forged anew.​

​

He wasn't expecting breakfast to be a challenge in itself, but it was a challenge he welcomed with open arms. This sort of predatory stalking taught him careful footwork and self-awareness, both stealth tactics that could be applied in more pressing circumstances as well. Nicair would find that Judas moved through the dead brush with relative skill for a beginner. There were, of course, several aspects of his movement that could be corrected. Still, one could tell that there was certainly natural ability present in the way he carefully stalked across the path.​

​

Judas was impressed with the grace that Nicair seemed to move with. Despite the presence of dry organic matter all around them, he still wouldn't have known the other man was present if it weren't for the fact Judas was looking right at him. He must have had years to practice his technique. As Nicair quietly corrected his form from time to time, Judas would make note and mentally compartmentalize the correction. He was an exceptionally efficient learner when he wanted to be, and Claden might notice that he virtually never made the same mistake twice once corrected. His focus was extremely intense on the task at hand, while still managing to maintain situational awareness as to their surrounding environment. It was this sort of split focus where he found many others often failed.​

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After several minutes of stalking through the woods, he turned towards his mentor and began to speak quietly such as to not alert the local wildlife of their presence. "I'll admit don't know much about trapping, you'll need to show me where to stop and how to lay the traps."​

​

[member="Nicair Claden"]​

 

[Nicair Claden]

Wayne was a good student. An efficient one. It made instruction easy in the regard of tracking and quiet movement. There weren't many mistakes the man made twice, any of them that were the exception were basic habits that most individuals live with such as method of movement, things that changed as mankind stopped needing to hunt its food. Given time the man would be able to walk either toe first or with a more balanced distribution of weight without even acknowledging he was doing so. Things like that took time and repetition, both of which Wayne would get.

As was expected, some of the local wildlife kept a little larger distance away from the pair than if Nicair had gone alone. It was important to circulate different locations so that the local creatures didn't begin to avoid the area. The prey animals at the very least would seek other grounds to eat, the less aggressive predators would follow them. There were certain animals in this area that, upon detecting a new or non-prey scent, would actively seek out competition. In some of the more rugged parts of the planet, the locals would hunt these predators as rights of passage or tests of strength and skill. Some would form a competition to see what group could bring in the larger specimen.

Nicair had to be careful when hunting to mask his scent as the Sociph evolved from strictly carnivorous apes. Their omnivore status developed relatively recently in the evolutionary scale. There was a belief that they still emitted some of the predatory pheromones that they had used for territory and mating. He might not have enjoyed hearing where he came from, but on learning this information it made hunting far easier for Nicair. Problem was, it drew many of the more competitive predators his way. He'd often come back from his longer hunting trips appearing far more rugged than others as he had to go to greater lengths to mask himself. It was because of this that he was wearing more than a few layers of fur coated in different pheromones from local wildlife.

At hearing Wayne's admittance he gave the man a small nod. It was what he was expecting. Most individuals in the galaxy don't need to know how to do things like this. Even big game hunters don't often need to learn how to trap for their food, simply bait traps for larger prey. He'd explain the more complicated details that he could just show, which happened to be quite a few as Nicair was finding out through trial and error. In many of the traps they were using there was a definite point of pressure that the layer had to use on specific sections to both avoid closing it on themselves or foiling the process entirely. A good number of the traps they were using were of a more modern make, but more than a few were of a primitive design. Eventually he would wean Wayne off of the modern uses and stick to the primitive versions. Simple matter being that the older designs were easier if even possible to make when compared to the newer designs. While less efficient and with a higher degree of error, the older traps had more application to survival situations.

He wasn't harsh but he wasn't lax in Wayne's attempts at the trap laying. Too much pressure too early and it would only lower efficiency. A balance had to be struck, as with any kind of instruction. Once he'd led the man through the other locations and the various designs he would take Wayne back to the hall at a brisk pace while maintaining proper stealth along the way.

[member="Judas Wayne"]

 

[Judas Wayne]

As Judas had predicted, he wasn't very good at laying traps at all. He was more technically minded, better at math and physics than hunting and trapping. Still, some of the traps required a balance of pressure that he was rather good at due to his engineering background. Admittedly he was mildly impressed with Nicair's ability to keep his calm and composure as Judas failed to lay the traps correctly on multiple occasions. It was a trial-and-error sort of learning regimen, one that could be very tedious at times.​

​

Once he had just gotten used to laying the more contemporary traps they began to move towards more practical yet considerably more difficult traps of a primitive design. This method would undoubtedly serve him better in a real survival scenario, as chances were he wouldn't be so lucky as to be stranded in the wilderness with the materials required to make the modernized traps. He was diligent in his work, trying his hardest not to waste not only Nicair's time but his own time as well. He had chosen this path for himself and his bitter determination dictated that he would see it through to the end.​

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The Mandalorian made a surprisingly good mentor, never once losing his patience with Judas no matter the errors he made. Throughout his time on Lorrd, Judas had studied under the tutelage of many Galaxy-renowned professors and researchers. They all had different ways of teaching; some were very stern and hard while others were almost too calm and gentle. Nicair struck a good balance, always pushing but never too hard. Many struggled to find such a balance, and even fewer ever found it. Judas could very much respect the restraint and harmony demonstrated by the older man.​

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After they had finished laying the traps Nicair led him back to the training hall, forcing him to maintain the same degree of stealth the entire way back. He could still feel the echoes of soreness in his legs but he was beginning to get used to the feeling. Once they had arrived back 'home' he stood up straight and began stretching out his arms and legs. He hadn't done a great job stretching himself out the day previous and was hoping he could begin to reconcile that error now. "So, what are we planning on doing next?" Judas's comments didn't generate a sense or boredom, at least they weren't meant to. He simply had an almost never ending hunger to keep learning-and believed Nicair still had much to teach him.​

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[member="Nicair Claden"]​

 

[Nicair Claden]

Wayne was about to learn the bare and ugly truth of training for mastery. It was monotonous. It was the repetition of the same technique over and over ad nauseam. It takes years to fully master a fighting style. The more and more different ones that are being studied at the same time increases the time frame. Certain techniques can speed up the process, things like imagery and to a lesser extent simple visualization. Establishing a mind and body connection can aid with the transfer of learning, it's useful for anything from a tricky technique or fortifying the basics in an individual's mind. With enough practice, imagery can be used as a sort of lucid daydream. To an extent most people in the galaxy practice it in some way, any daydream can be considered at least visualization. When honed with an athlete or a warrior's focus, imagery can be truly beneficial.

The hall was relatively warm when compared to the cold air filtering from outside. Still, tight muscles are more prone to injury, expounded if someone is trying to compensate for how sore they are. A proper stretching routine was imperative for long term sustainability. He'd picked up more than a few skills from the Matukai in his time. The flow of energy in the body, while not necessarily Force-related, has been something studied by healers for what could be eons. Proper breathing and stretching were at times the only thing that kept Nicair mobile. What was the old rule? After 25 years the body starts getting revenge for all the dumb things the individual did before that?

He led Wayne through his own personal routine, making sure to hit as many muscle groups as possible and commenting on what could be improved upon. So many, Nicair included on occasion, forget the simple benefit of straightening the lower back in stretches and how much more miserable it becomes when done so. The Matukai, with their dry senses of humor, used to straighten his back in the middle of a fairly deep stretch only to watch a toe touch turn into a knee touch. They found it amusing, Nicair did not. Then there was the misconception of what constitutes a straight line during a stretch. A proper line forms when the quadricep flexes and the heel almost feels like it's coming off the ground.

The entire process, when Nicair does it alone, takes from 45 minutes to an hour depending on how his body feels that day. Whatever keeps him from breaking.

[member="Judas Wayne"]

 

[Judas Wayne]

At first, Judas admittedly didn't realize the full importance of the exercise they were performing. Before working out he typically spent 15-20 minutes stretching out, a process he often repeated after the fact as well. The routine Nicair introduced him to took a bit over an hour (as the older man had to slow down and teach Judas proper form on multiple occasions), an amount of time that he could only believe most people would consider absurd. However, these men weren't "most people". They were warriors, destined to spend their lives fighting 'til the bitter end. Their bodies would suffer constant abuse, both self-inflicted and that which was earned in battle. It was important to take care of their bodies, else they may someday fail them during a critical moment of combat.​

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So, with that mentality adopted, Judas patiently went through the motions with Nicair. He felt his sore muscles stretching and contorting in ways he didn't realize were possible, but the movements slowly began to ease his discomfort with time. His muscles were still sore of course, but this routine would almost certainly reduce the chance of injury born from repeated muscular exertion throughout the coming months. An hour of stretching on a daily basis was a small price to pay for a healthy body, he figured.​

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After the stretching routine was finished they returned to a combat training exercise quite similar to what they had done the day previous. It included a lot of repetition, something that was essential for any warrior struggling to learn a new form of combat. The key to retention was repetition, something he had taught himself a few years previous while he was still in school. He had a rare ability to retain most of what he was taught on the first go-around, but even he would need lots of practice if the training were to become part of his muscle memory. He still kept the majority of his focus on his form, but still paid close attention to the small newer principles Nicair would throw his way from time to time. From his understanding, form was the base of everything in martial arts. Every new thing he learned would have to be incorporated into his knowledge of the form itself, else that new technique would become useless as he failed to use it properly.​

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[member="Nicair Claden"]​