Strength and Precision: Training under Vrag

[Vekkar Zesh]

He brought the vibro-blade up with both hands, blocking the generic overhanded strike that was programmed in the training droids. You learned on your own, here at the Academy. Offered only the most basic of lessons, a new acolyte had to preserver alone until a master showed interest. He was behind.

Most all of the acolytes at the temple had years of training before they had ever joined. Vekkar was behind, only making his way here after a coincidental run-in with a Sith Lord. He had saved him from becoming a prisoner, and sent him here to train. He had told Vekkar that he had power, but didn't know how to use it. He had said that this place would make him powerful. The droids struck in unison, two thrusting and the other slashing at his right leg. Quickly, without thinking, he pulled his leg back. Shifting his weight, he pointed his weapon down vertically, spinning in a complete circle and deflecting the two thrusts. The force of him putting his whole weight and momentum in the attack left the two droids open, and he attacked.

He hopped forward two steps, almost appearing like a short skip, as he closed the distance. A powerful front-kick knocked one droid to the floor, and Vekkar ducked down - narrowly escaping decapitation. There were no difficulty settings in this place. He was lucky enough to see a younger acolyte train before him, and realize that once activated the student had to destroy the machine. Or die trying. As the third droid on his right flank came down with a vertical overhand strike, still crouched, Vekkar lashed out to the side with a horizontal slash; the droid falling to the floor missing a leg.

He rolled backwards, putting distance between the two prone but still slashing robots, and focused on the last still standing. It was stepping forward holding it's sword in front in a defensive stance. Having only picked up a sword one week ago, he couldn't recognize the form the droid was using. He, like the other few acolytes that arrived with no experience, was only shown the basics of block and parry. They were treated like they were worthless; a complete waste of time to them. Vekkar agreed with their methods.

Only the strong deserve to live, he thought as he watched the droid come into range. I will show them my strength!

He jumped, bringing his blade high with a two-handed grip. Despite the droid's attempt to block, the vibro-blade broke through its' defense and splitting its' head in perfect symmetry. It dropped to the floor, leaking fluids and crackling shorts of electricity. Walking over to the other two training-bots, he smashed them both to bits; completely destroying them in repetitive two-handed hammer strikes.

Success. He had defeated three to his one, with only his pure strength and determination. But there was no satisfaction. The droids were programmed to kill, but they were emotionless. The entire battle felt... fake. Boring. He wasn't even sweating. He knew that no matter how many of these useless droids he smashed through, he would learn nothing.

In anger, he threw the vibro-blade on the ground with all his strength sending a loud clanging within the room. He was furious. He stomped towards the weapon rack, picking up his discarded robe and shirt.


@[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

The ruckus form an adjacent training room piqued her interest, and the Knight abandoned her exercise to see what was going on. Noise and screams were nothing unusual in these chambers — they were devoted to destruction, after all — but there was something peculiar about the situation, and she was a bit bored anyway.

Peeking around the doorframe, Vrag immediately realized what was out of place. She frowned, the expression clearly visible with her visor retracted.

"Do that one more time, and I'll beat you black and blue, boy," she snapped at the source of her annoyance and called the discarded vibroblade into her open palm. The tall woman stepped fully into the room, her whole body covered in plate armor, save for her displeased face.

"This," she said and gestured to the weapon in her hand, "is worth more than you, so treat it with respect." The firrerreo made a few experimental swings with the sword, trying to remember how it was to wield something with actual weight as she warmed up both of her wrists.

"Don't treat it like a crude tool," the woman continued as she crossed the distance between them with a few long strides. "It's a finely balanced instrument, precise and deadly when handled the right way." Her blue eyes flickered to the three smashed droids on the ground, and with a sigh she amended.

"You have potential, I see. How do you think you'd fare against a real opponent, boy?" offered the Sith, cocking her head in the direction of the weapon rack. If his finishing moves were anything to go by, the man was one of those who had fallen into one of the first traps in the art of swordplay; relying on strength. He was muscular, that much was obvious, and therefore used to ramming through his obstacles with that alone.

It was a problem she was intimately familiar with — and one of the reasons she'd invested herself into Makashi as much as she had — and therefore uniquely equipped to help him overcome it. Well, that, and have fun showing him just how much of an advantage technique had over brute force.

[member="Vekkar Zesh"]

 

[Romus]

(OOC: Sorry for the confusion, I just realized today that I'm supposed to make this sub account as my character! My bad for not reading all of the beginner's stuff here)



Boy? Vek abruptly turned his head around, seeing his discarded blade float from the floor into her hand. It wasn't the first, or the strangest thing he had seen in his few days at the temple. They called it 'the Force'; some kind of mystical energy that few could control. It was all new to him. He had always thought that these powers of the SIth and the Jedi were exaggerations, having only heard of this force through the limited libraries on Dagro. But, he had seen first hand that what he had read didn't even scratch the surface of what one could accomplish with the Force. And as he was told, along with everyone with him on the shuttle, everyone here at the Academy had the power. Including himself!

She was striking, completely covered in impeccable metal armor - save her face. She took long strides as she spoke, looking absolutely unhindered by the plate armor as if she wore it constantly. Considering where they were, he silently wondered why he wasn't wearing any. He could tell, just by the fierce gaze of the woman that she was dangerous.

"You have potential, I see. How do you think you'd fare against a real opponent, boy?" Ugh, he thought. His father used to call him that, with almost the same superiority. Referring to him as 'boy' didn't irritate him, he was all too used to it by now. He knew that he would be treated like scum until he proved himself, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Tossing his shirt and robe to the side, he grasped the closest vibroblade on the rack. Fully turning to face this woman that looked ready for war.

He held the weapon in a two-hand grip out in front of him, with a wide stance - the tip inclined to the woman. This is what he was waiting for, a chance to actually learn something. A challenge.

"I don't know," he flashed a wicked grin that didn't reach his eyes, betraying his intent on not holding back. "How about we find out?" It wasn't a question, more of a statement. Vek had barely gotten the last word out when he sprang forth. The blade of his weapon turning a full-circle as he let the weight roll backwards with his wrists. Halfway through the motion - as the blade was coming back up from the ground, he used the strength in his arms and twisted his upper body for a vicious strike to her left side. He planned to do a front kick with his left leg if she happened to block his attack.

Secretly, he hoped she wouldn't be able to.



[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

Why was it that so many people wielded one-handed swords with two hands? She would never know. The blade was certainly on the heavier side of the spectrum, but to someone with her strength, that additional weight meant little; rather, it only increased the damage of each blow that connected.

Going for an under-strike, the man had to bring the tip of his blade all the way back and below, making his intention transparent to someone as devoted to dueling as she. With two hands on the hilt and his already shorter stature, the Acolyte was at a disadvantage when it came to reach, which gave Vrag enough time to take a step back and to the left. The maneuver effectively brought her out of his line of attack, and with her background in Makashi, the Knight was able to move in for a quick push-cut from the third guard, aiming for his exposed forearm, hand, and fingers. Her legs followed the strike, a step forward and to the left again, smooth footwork borne of her time with the Form II.

If he wanted to face her again, he would have to make a full turn to his right-hand side, wasting another tempo in which the firrereo would have ample opportunity to strike.

[member="Romus"]

 

[Romus]

He could hear the woosh as his strike cut nothing but air. One moment she was there, right in front of him, and the next he could barely see her figure in the corner of his eye. Drat! She was fast. But it wasn't that she was moving fast, she was just that good.

He caught a glimpse of her movement, having to turn his head to follow his opponent; seeing her step forward. He tried to alter the course of his weapon, but wasn't quick enough. He had to fight back the urge to cry out in pain as her vibroblade sliced the top of his forearm. Luckily, he was already pulling his swing back and the cut wasn't as deep as it would've been. Clinching his teeth, he bent his knees and lowered his stance. He swung low and to the right, letting go of the hilt with his left hand for a broader sweep. He knew that if he simply turned to face her, he would be on the defensive the whole fight. And since this woman knew what she was doing, he had to keep her from attacking if he stood a chance. So, lashing out for her legs as he turned his body, he was squared up with her once again.

He didn't commit as much to this swing, however. He knew he probably wouldn't connect, but he also didn't expect for her to be able to block it, either, from just extending for the thrust that bloodied his arm. The blood was flowing freely, dripping onto the ground and streaking down his wrist. Despite the cut not being deep, it still burned with a stinging pain that just increased his grip.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

Just as in Makashi, push-cuts were attacks of opportunity; quick thrusts not meant to truly hurt the opponent, but rather distract them and irritate them. With a weighted sword such as this, where the vibro-cell served to rip open a wider, deeper wound, this side-effect of the technique was all the more pronounced. Bottom line, however, was that the jab was a short one, and every half-decent fighter would have little problem with recovery — it only employed the elbow and the shoulder, after all — which meant that Vrag didn't have to do much when her foe struck next.

Immobility is death.

The man had fallen into the enticing trap of inertia, and the Knight happily exploited his mistake, placing her left foot behind him in an extension of her previous movement. Her body followed, circling around the Acolyte as she brought her right foot into stance again, her left hand moving over his extended shoulder and under his chin. She would wrap her fingers around his neck in a sideways grip, not aiming to choke him, but to yank his head and balance backwards, tripping him over the leg she'd placed behind his right knee.

In the position she'd assumed, his attack would most likely hit her armored shins, but only if the man twisted his torso to do so; in doing that, however, he would only aid her in disruption of his equilibrium.

[member="Romus"]

[Sorry for the delay, been/are busy with the Netherworld dominions. ]

 

[Romus]

She had stepped beyond his reach again, and he was starting to get irritated. The way she moved, just stepping away from each of his attacks was infuriating. Was there really that much of a gap in skill between them? He came to the conclusion that the woman wasn't even trying.

Romus didn't know that much about swordplay, but he knew what she was doing. With his legs already bent, he jumped to the left and rolled. Shoulder to shoulder, he used that momentum to put distance between himself and his opponent. He quickly sprang to his feet with his sword pointing towards the woman in the case she was closing the distance. Being on the ground would end in his defeat.

His attacks weren't connecting, he was too slow. There was something fundamentally wrong with how he was fighting. Seeing as how this would be his best chance to learn, he decided to wait for her to attack. Maybe if he could see what she did differently he would still have a chance. Assuming he could last through this next pass.


[member="Vrag"]

(OOC: No problem. )

 

[Vrag]

The man, using his smaller stature to his advantage, slipped underneath her hand like a slippery snake. She did her best to bring her blade around and send him flying with slap on his back, but he'd already dropped into a roll and out of her reach.

Little fether.

Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips, and the woman adjusted her stance as he was getting back to his feet. Normally, she would have used his moment of vulnerability to push her advantage, but her aim wasn't to kill the man, so she stayed her hand. It had been foolish of him to expose his back like that; if this were an actual fight and not a sparring match, Vrag would have pulled his legs from under him while he was still trying to find his balance, then proceed to bury her blade into his flesh somewhere along the spine. The attack would have crippled him at the least, if not killed him outright, seeing as a strong enough blow to the vertebrae was all it took to sever the spinal chord and send your opponent convulsing in excruciating pain.

"In a real duel, you'd be dead," she chided coldly, her blade resting in the third guard. That way, she would cover all the main lines of attack he had at his disposal at the moment, and if he wanted to take her open left side, he'd have to waste at least one tempo to circle around her; plenty of time for her to execute an attack.

"Never turn your back on your enemy."

[member="Romus"]

Spoiler: OOC:

Sorry, again. >_< Netherworld is really time consuming...

 

[Romus]

She wasn't going to come after him. She was only reacting to his actions, never missing the opportunity to open her smart mouth. Romus decided that her attitude left much to be desired. He would flat-out hate her, if her skills and appearance weren't so damned attractive.

Judging by her obvious tendency to assume control, Romus assumed she didn't have a significant other. Even if she did, he thought, he probably killed himself to get away from her nagging!

"Don't get snappy just because you can't get any!" He shouted, feinting to her open left side. Every time he attacked, she moved. So, in his mind, if he got her to move then she would be vulnerable. Hey, he had to do something.

So, he moved like he was going to advance and attack on her left side, expecting her to block or move -- that is when he planned to actually attack her in the only place that would count. Her right hand. Even with armored gloves, if he struck her fingers or knuckles, it could possibly disarm her. Since she was covered in armor, trying to knock the weapon from her hand seemed the only logical action.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

Were she anybody else, Vrag would've picked the man up and thrown him across the room for that insolent comment alone, but the woman was renowned for her self-control, and so the boy was spared a swift meeting with the opposite wall. She didn't bother replying at all, choosing to focus her attention on other, more important things. Like, you know, the actual fight.

While the blond man was spitting words and splitting his focus without any practical purpose, Vrag moved into the narrow measure with a practiced ballestra, going for the fastest move in the repertoire of a duelist; the thrust. From the third guard, the motion was easy to execute, and certainly much quicker than any attack coming in from the side.

Whatever he might have been planning would be interrupted by a single-time attempt at shiak, the tip of the vibroblade aimed to pierce his shoulder just above the clavicle, thus passing above the bone for a clean stab.

Such were the dangers of trying to pull off a two-time maneuver against an experienced user of Makashi; they were bound to exploit the weakness that such a venue of attack offered and push in with their own tempo. A tempo which, unfortunately for [member="Romus"], outpaced his own.