The Learning Curve

[WelshPsych]

[member="Draven Dursden"]

Thud. Yuroic landed hard on the ground, completing his early morning exercise. He had spent most of the morning running around the surrounding areas of Kashyyyk. He took a look at his plans for the day, most of it was overseeing the Archives and recording anything he found of note. Even though he was aiming to take a deeper approach to Silver Jedi business, he still felt like he had to care for the Archives. Before any of that happened, he was to meet a new Padawan, someone he was potentially to train. Yuroic shook his head, teaching was not his strongest suit, but it was a required duty of the Jedi. It gave him a chance to improve as well.

Yuroic took a quick shower under a waterfall, ensuring he did not smell of sweat and dirt. He smirked, a few years ago, he wouldn't have cared how he smelt by others but his own Master enforced that one must be presentable. Hence why Yuroic was putting on clean robes and leaving his tattered cloak hanging in the cupboard. Though it was something he adored, the cloak was not necessary for today. Yuroic grabbed his lightsaber and clipped it to his belt. Dressed and ready, Yuroic headed off to the sparring arena where he told the new Padawan to meet him.

Taking a long stroll through the temple, Yuroic took his time, it was nice to meet the fellow Jedi and watching them go about their business. He was worried about being late, he would arrive when it was time for him to arrive. Yuroic finally headed to the training arena, seeing the new Padawan waiting for him.

"I am Yuroic Xeraic, Jedi Knight, your name is?"

 

[Draven Dursden]

Draven stood in front of the mirror, looking himself over mercilessly fixing any details which remained out of place. He had fixed his stark blonde hair and washed it for the occasion, wore his best clothes. He turned and took in the little room, filled with morning sunlight, the sound of birds chirping and water falling, and simply basked in the moment. To be free at last, no man's bird to keep in a cage, no mans work horse to abuse. Simply a free man. He did his morning routine of working out, sit ups, push ups, the usual, and then set out. He stepped into the crowded hallway of the temple, and began to force his way through it, shoving those aside who did not move, and in return being shoved when he was too slow to. This was simply the natural place of things in the temple, and there was no malice behind it. People simply had places to be. As Draven walked her rehearsed what he'd say in his head, imagining a sharply dressed, clean cut hero of a man for his Jedi master, and wondering how he would get along with the strict morals and codes. He looked forward to finally having something to aspire to- someone to aspire to. He took a turn and smiled at a girl Padawan, causing her to blush slightly, then continued on his way.

On his way to the meeting with his master, Draven was abruptly pulled aside by a girl Padawan he had been involved with, in tears she explained how she was upset with him etc etc. Draven had cut short, or blocked out the rest of her complaints, and explained that he would deal with it later, though this did effect him. He continued his walk down the hall, a little pep taken out of his step, and he struggled to remain in a good mood, eventually regaining his swaggering, careless walk as he stepped in front of the door, which blasted open to reveal his new master.

Pure shock was what Draven first felt when seeing his master. Not some clean cut hero, carved of stone, but a man with a beard, and robotic arm. Even more eye catching to Draven were the tattoos. This was not what he had been expecting, or hoping for. He had been expecting a hero, a walking god, who never got mad or made mistakes, and his impossibly high hopes were let down. Severely. Just from the first impression. Draven did not say a word, simply glaring at the man like he had glared at everyone else, his x-ray like blue eyes giving off the same feeling as they usually did, of seeing right through whatever they looked through, as if they saw into the very fabric of one's person. The young teen crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, watching the man, a dismissive expression already on his features.

Inside Draven was a swirl of emotions. He wanted to scream and cry on the ground like a child, his hopes had been dashed so abruptly and this was certainly not what he had expected. But he also knew deep down that this was not fair to the man, and knew his expectations had been impossibly high, yet part of him had still dared to hope. Another part of Draven was just happy to finally have someone to tell him where to go, he had been drifting ever since he had come to the temple it felt like. He looked forwards to actually applying the skills he had been taught, and learning more. Disappointment, fear of being hurt, deep set pain, excitement, curiosity, guilt at his impossible expectations, all of this swirled behind those sparkling blue eyes, and stony scowl.

 

[WelshPsych]

Yuroic was surprised that his new pupil was not waiting, or had been waiting for an hour before the meeting was to take place. He remembered that he was always early for the lessons, but that reinforced the message, this was not Yuroic, this person was someone completely different. Sitting in a chair available, Yuroic watched as the new Padawan walked into the arena. The wave of emotions coming from the Padawan was very strong, it was strange that the boy felt disappointment and pain. Yuroic searched deeper, concealing his mental presence from the boy, he saw what the Padawan had envisaged as their Master.

"Does my beard offend you then?" Yuroic joked, hoping that he would lighten the mood for this bubbling bottle of emotions this boy felt.

The boy's eyes did not concern Yuroic, while they might seem to look deeper into a person, Yuroic knew that his own eyes pierced deeper than this boy's. While of a short stature, he was well defined. Clearly, the boy thought highly of his appearance and himself as well, while Yuroic was wearing clean and tidy clothes of a non-expensive nature. This boy had worn his best and attempted to look his best. It was interesting to see someone so confident in themselves. He never felt that way about himself at that age.

Walking over to where the training weapons were kept, Yuroic grabbed a wooden sword for himself and then one for the boy. It would be interesting to see how much skill in combat this boy already has.

[member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

Draven's face broke with surprise, how did the man know? How had he sensed his disappointment? But a small, suppressed smile did force its way on to the scene when he cracked a joke. Draven snickered and then said with a sigh, "No I reckon it doesn't." His accent rearing its rather thick and noticeable head. He followed his new master towards the training weapons. Once he had the wooden sword in his hand, the boy swung it back and forth, testing its balance as he said, "Careful old man, I don't want to hurt you." His eyes burning, whether his master was what he expected or wanted, he would prove himself to be the best. At whatever came. The boy did not wait for a signal or word to attack. He lunged forwards, stout, blocky muscles showing their power. His cockiness extended to his fighting, he expected his blows to land. Any parries or dodges, Draven took as a personal offense. He lunged towards the Jedi, swinging his wooden sword in a powerful over hand blow, aiming to catch him off guard and land it right at the juncture of his neck and shoulders. He had put quite a bit of power behind this rapid blow, and thrown much of his body into it, a dodge or parry would easily cause him to loose his balance.

[member="Yuroic Xeraic"]

 

[WelshPsych]

Yuroic raised an eyebrow at being called old man. Did his beard really make him look that old? He shrugged it off, obviously this boy thought himself clever or witty. It was unfortunate but Yuroic could work with it, it wouldn't be something that makes or breaks a person. Yuroic watched as Draven launched himself into a clumsily made attack, Yuroic sighed deeply to himself before side stepping and slapping his sword against the boy's back firmly in a fluid motion.

"Too confident in your action. Brace yourself for a parry or block." Yuroic commented with a critical eye. His own training in weapons was deep and he had spent four years learning multiple styles. Though in his honest opinion, he was far from being a Master in Niman, he was better than when he started, much better. "Tell me, where are you from? Not answered a single question yet boy." Yuroic added as he posed himself in a defensive stance, curious to see if the boy had learned from his previous attack.

[member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

Draven turns on a dime, snapping around and flushing as his cockiness was rewarded with a slap on the back from the sword. Back still stinging he grunted, "I said your beard didn't offend me didn't I?" He then added, "And you have yet to ask me anything else." Draven then launched a flurry of attacks, short choppy blows, with formidable force behind them. It seemed that he was trying to simply overwhelm the master with pure force. Draven's entire home made make shift style seemed to focus around gaining ground. Pushing hard against his opponent until they finally had to either fall back or drop their defenses. His jaw was set and features the picture of determination. He swung the sword with his right hand, his left hovering just slightly behind his back, waiting for the opportune moment to strike from the side when it was unguarded.
Draven had learned from his previous attack and did not put as much momentum into each blow, instead opting for speed and quantity, using his force to smash the sword down over and over in a furious flurry of blows, sweat already beginning to bead on his forehead as he did this. He was always pushing forward, never giving ground even when it would suit him.

[member="Yuroic Xeraic"]

 

[WelshPsych]

Yuroic chuckled, he had to admit, he forgot about that. "Still, I don't know your name. Did ask when you first entered." He commented as the boy jumped straight back into combat. His aggressive attacks, constantly seeking to wear an opponent down reminded Yuroic of a roughly made version of Djem So. One of the most common lightsaber forms that Yuroic had seen in Jedi and Sith. Using Niman, he blocked and moved around, almost in a dancing manner. He did not break a sweat or tire from this. Allowing Draven to expend all his energy while Yuroic remained fresh.

When he decided it was time to strike, Yuroic dodged to the right of Draven, using his arm the parry to blow. The metal arm unfazed by the strike, his left arm swung the blade sharply and struck at the knees of the boy from behind. "Interesting tactic, attacking aggressively, attempting to give no quarter. However, many Force Users know how to protect against this, being purely defensive and waiting out for you to tire is just as effective. Be wary of this or you could end up getting yourself killed."

Yuroic stood, waiting again, calm and alert. "Again."

[member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

Looking up at the man from the ground, he snarled and got up steadying himself. The blow to his knee had almost brought tears to his eyes, but Draven ignored the pain, steadying himself and thinking out his next attack saying, "My name is Draven Dursden sir." As he said this he watched the older Jedi's defensive stance. He looked and waited, searching for a opening some gap, his heaving chest eventually beginning to slow. Dursden then muttered, "You cheated with that metallic arm." A smirk playing along his lips. Draven darted in, sweeping a smooth, well timed sweeping blow at the older man's legs, attempting to sweep them out from under him, as he brought the sword around, he came upwards in a diagonal motion, attempting to plant his palm directly into the older man's hip, and knock him to the right, using his momentum to increase the force of the blow. If he dodged, Draven would be in a good position to swirl around and face him once again without suffering a blow.

[member="Yuroic Xeraic"]

 

[WelshPsych]

"Greetings Draven, what brings you to the Silver Jedi Order here on Kashyyyk?" Yuroic enquired as he watched the boy carefully. He could sense the boiling annoyance bubbling within Draven. It was something Yuroic was wary of, not wanting the boy to slip into anger based attacks. The Dark Side was something one should tread lightly, and further in their training. Twirling his blade slowly, he watched Draven carefully.

"Ah, but not all your enemies will fight fair." Yuroic commented with a smirk, he watched as Draven launched into another attack. Yuroic easily blocked the attack to his legs, seeing the shove to his hips, Yuroic let it hit and rolled backwards away. Jumping to his feet swiftly, Yuroic decided to press an attack. Moving in closer, Yuroic jumped and holding the blade in his left hand, he struck high to the shoulder and neck of Draven in a feint attack.

His actual attack was a sharp jab to stomach with his right metal fist. Careful not to strike too hard, it was enough to wind but that was it.

[member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

Draven only barely grasped the attack before it landed, clumsily dropping to the ground, letting the slicing movement go soaring above his head and the metal fist meet thin air. He rolled forwards between the Jedi's legs and bounced up, swirling to strike him while his back was turned, saying, "I came here to be a Jedi." Simply, a firm determination in his young voice, letting the Jedi know he meant what he said. He added with a grunt, "And I have no where else to go. My parents are worthless, and no one else would take me in." It was the simple truth, and there was no glamour behind it. Just fact. Draven was fast on his feet for sure, and his blows powerful, but he was also often clumsy and easily exhausted.

[member="Yuroic Xeraic"]

 

[WelshPsych]

Yuroic was mildly impressed that Draven used his height so efficiently to dodge the two attack, he watched the short boy roll between his legs. Yuroic sensed the danger through the Force, flicking his blade in a reverse manner, blocking the strike to his back. Turning around he faced Draven. "Well being a Jedi takes time, effort and selflessness. Do you think you can be so giving?" It was questions that he knew he felt when he first joined. Could one give themselves to strangers with truly altrustic feelings?

He started his strong attacks in between blocking Draven's attack. Jabbing and swing the sword in precise, thought out movements, attacking joints of Draven's arms and legs. Not necessarily devastating attacks but enough to make moving harder or more painful. "Ah, your feelings towards your parents are dark, dangerous. Why?" Yuroic was curious, he had never met his own parents, abandoned as a baby.

[member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

Draven kept up with the attacks at first, block, parry riposte, duck jab, as he forcefully batted aside attacks, the boy responded, "I am willing to try, I will admit, it doesn't come easy to me." He clipped off the end of this sentence because the attacks were beginning to overwhelm him, and his mind was quickly loosing focus. The question about his parents finally did him in, and a particularly nasty blow to the hamstrings brought the boy down to his knees, "My parents were....brutal people. Debt was their life, and drug were their past time. Whenever they caught a moment from this, beatings were the family activity." He kneeled for a moment, chest heaving as he did so, sword at his side, then rose again, a burning determination conveyed through his revitalized and strong stance, "A Jedi saved me. I hope to one day return the favor and save someone else." He then attacked once again, blows not as heavy, and more balanced, focused, and the clumsiness disappearing for the time being, it had seemed that Draven had found something to steady himself upon.

[member="Yuroic Xeraic"]

 

[WelshPsych]

Yuroic found Draven's history intriguing, seemed similar to his own. He could sense that the boy had been a slave once, freed by a Jedi. The attacks becoming more focused weren't that surprising, but the renewed energy could only save the boy for so long. Yuroic switched to his right hand, his more skilled fighting hand, the sword swung with blindly speed, blocking and striking at the boy.

"I'm sure that early life must have been hard, I was sold by strangers to an especially cruel slaver." Yuroic commented, sharing a small piece of his own history. "You cannot use your anger or hatred in combat, it is spiral down a path you are not ready to explore." He added, slightly concerned he was pushing the boy too much.

His strikes aimed for the head and stomach, attempting to stun the boy and lead to an finishing strike.

[member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

Draven's energy was spent. His arms were like lead and finally, he was too slow to deflect one of the blows. The sword cracked across his face with a snap that echoed across the arena. A dark red mark covered his entire cheek and jaw. Draven fell back and landed squarely on his rump, breathing heavily as he did so.

He gasped, "Well it seems we have that much in common." He then slowly stood up, sweat pouring off him., "I will do my best master." He said with a deep bow, finally submitting to his new jedi master. The combination of a relation point, and defeating him in combat, instilled quite a bit of respect in the Padawan for his new master.

[member="Yuroic Xeraic"]

 

[WelshPsych]

Yuroic nodded his head. He noted the respect that he had gained from Draven, it was something that Yuroic gave concern over. Though, he supposed respect must be earned not demanded. He used the Force and placed his sword back in its place. Then, he did the same with Draven's. Studying the boy closer, he payed closer attention to Draven, observing how he interacts now.

"So, what do you know about the Jedi, the Force and how are your general skills?" Yuroic enquired, he remembered about his lack of reading or writing abilities. He didn't want to offend the boy by asking directly, but he wanted to know the number of skills that Draven had. It would be important to build him to function well.

[member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

Draven pushed himself to his feet, brushing off the dust and saying, "I can read and write. Do math and understand the English language." a smirk playing along his lips as he responded, reclining in a uninterested, relaxed state against the arena wall, waiting for his next order. He asked, "When are we gonna do a mission? Or fight some sith? When am I going to get armor? What is it gonna look like? When am I going to get to use my light saber?" All these questions poured out off him as he listed them off frustrated, finishing with, "And why does no one tell me anything around here?"

[member="Yuroic Xeraic"]

 

[WelshPsych]

Yuroic shook his head with a slight chuckle, it seemed that Draven was eager to begin his training, though he was more ready to go fighting than learning. It was something to take note of, however, Yuroic was sure that this mindset would change in the future, when learning more about the Force. Deciding that the boy needed to learn more of the Jedi ways and how they operated. "Take a seat." Yuroic gestured to the chair he once sat on before Draven arrived.

"You are new here, allow people to be cautious around you, they aren't holding back without reason. This isn't a time of peace, though we wish it was." Yuroic explained, standing in front of Draven. "As for missions and fighting Sith, that will be something to happen when I think you are ready to look after yourself. It is still too early in your training for you to confront a Dark Side powers." Yuroic attempted to speak honestly, he didn't want to rush Draven's training and he was trying to be accepting of Draven's wish to confront the Sith. "Sith are not our only enemy as well, First Order have members of Ren and the Empire has Imperial Force Users. We have allies as well."

Yuroic then lowered himself slightly to be eye level with the boy. "Before we go rushing against enemies, you need to learn about the Force, the way the Jedi use it and why the Dark Side is dangerous. Also you will need to learn the pitfalls that a person can go through that will lead to the Dark Side." Yuroic then rose to his full height. "Come, we will discuss the Force somewhere in the Temple that is peaceful and full of plant-life. Helps relax the mind." He moved towards the door, ready to move to their next learning section.

[member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

Draven stands up, his expression still bored and uninterested as he followed, complaining, "The force this and force that...." mumbling to himself and grumbling. He scuffed at the ground as he followed his teacher closely. He certainly resented being treated like a child, and talked to as one, but it was nothing he was not used to. Many had thought him a simpleton when he first arrived at the temple, so he allowed it to pass without complaint. As they walk he asks, "How will I know when I'm ready to face the dark side?" Then adds, "And how can I get there as fast as possible?" His young, teenage mind imagining massive battles and explosions, death defying saber battles and near skims with death.

Along their little stroll Draven spoke, "I will not lie master, I have quite a bit of rage inside me...I do my best to not allow it to bubble up or grow overly prominent in my life, but it is undeniably there. I think that is the reason my saber is the way it is." He continues behind his master jaw clenching and unclenching, explaining, "The purple, I heard not many people get that type of saber." A large mob of Padawan came rushing down the hall to their various classes and training session, causing the teen to press against the wall.

"I know for sure," He said, eyes haunted with memory, "That I have no interest in becoming a sith or going to the dark side...Honestly sir, my anger is...worrying even to myself." He then, for the first time since their meeting, seemed to begin to get upset, and blinked rapidly, "I just don't want to loose myself in the flames of it...."

[member="Yuroic Xeraic"]

 

[WelshPsych]

Yuroic shook his head, too eager. Much too eager to rush into battle. Yuroic knew this was somewhat due to his age, but also there was a strong sense of ambition, Draven was wanting to prove himself. Sadly, this was what Yuroic feared, it meant little in terms of Yuroic thinking Draven would fall to the Dark Side, but meant Yuroic would have to put up with complaints that Draven was ready in his mind, to face members of the Dark Side. He remembered the first time he fought a Sith Lord, barely had any training, it was only due to allies helping that Yuroic came away unmarked from the duel. Though he had some skills in combat and several months of training, he still didn't have a lightsaber, a step that Draven had achieved. Purple was definitely a unique colour among Jedi.

"Purple is unique among Jedi, but there are other Force Users who have purple sabers. The colour doesn't matter as much as how you wish to use the Force and use the saber. So don't worry about feeling like an outsider. All these Padawans started out where you are, some are at the same point, never be afraid to seek out help from them or offer it." Yuroic stated as they walked past the group of Padawans. "I will know when you are ready, and I will tell you. Not before, this is for your safety and to give me peace of mind. When in battle, I need to know you can handle yourself, if distracted, I might lose focus and possibly my life trying to protect you. Right now, I value my life and do not wish it to end, so until I am sure you can stand up in a fight against a Sith of any rank, here you will stay."

His voice was calm but stern, he was not to be questioned on this. It was less worry about his own life, but he didn't want to take Draven into a situation where the boy could end up getting seriously harmed or killed through a lack of training. Yuroic would never forgive himself over that. "The Force is everything. That duel only lasted as long as it did because I held back. I didn't use the Force, and I didn't use my full skill. You would be in a lot more pain if I had. Everything we do as Jedi is centred around the Force. We do not command it, but let it flow through us and appreciate there is so much we do not understand of it."

They took a right and arrived in a garden area. "Sit on the grass, place your hand on the ground and tell me what you feel. Deep inside you." Yuroic ordered. His gaze fixed on the boy. "Your rage does not control you, you control it. Do not fear it, it cannot take over, not as long as you wish it not to. As soon as you surrender to it. Then you lose yourself within in."

[member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

The boy sat down on the grass with a sigh and looked up at his master. After a few moments of this useless staring he rolled his eyes and finally shut then, focusing solely on the grass. His mind was racing with questions waiting to be answered, things needing to be done, but he took long, deep breaths to calm himself. He ever so slowly slipped away....

Draven sat in solitary confinement. Alone as the name would imply. The only light was the harsh, furious sunlight streaming in from the cracks of the lid above. Darkness surrounded him and slowly, Draven began to sink, deeper and deeper into the loamy earth below, where bones laid and dead rat corpses which other children had lowered themselves to feeding on had been buried. The bones swarmed up around him, pulling him down, biting and nipping at him mercilessly, his skin was on fire. But the worst of all was the bone chilling cold which seeped into him as he felt like he was falling. The bright light fell away and he was screaming, twirling head over toe down a endless well which lead into the abyss. Draven screamed and screamed, obscenities and letting his anger over come him, how dare the universe let him die here. How dare it leave him as just another pile of bones in a godless, universe. He was the chosen one, the one destined for greatness. And he screamed these thoughts as he fell, the faster he did so, descending into darkness.

But when the light had just become a pin prick, and it seemed like he would be consumed, Draven's fingers caught on stone. His entire body jerked, and it felt like his arm had been ripped off, pulled out of its socket, but there he hung, over a never ending abyss of a well. Below him, only darkness, above, pure, unfiltered, harsh light. To let go and fall was the easiest thing to do, to simply fall took no work, no effort, no requirements, just fall. But above him, the light beckoned. That would take a little more work.

The teenager climbed. He spit, and frothed as he climbed, his fury being harnessed into a unquenchable power, bringing him ever closer to the light, and the farther he went...the more it seeped away. The anger which had fueled his ascent out of the darkness and abyss of the well was no longer needed, and it drained from him, black drops, oozing out of the bottom of his boots. And as it did this, he was slowly filled with a simple, calm, peace. A centeredness which had not been there before. The light illuminated the cracking, broken stones which made up the sides of the well which had been used for solitary confinement on Draven's home world, the stinking filth which was caked on to them made jamming his fingers in the cracks a pain, and more than once, Draven fell. And he fell hard, twirling head over toe, almost to the point from where he had begun, but the boy did not give up, he did not forget the taste of that peace. And each ascent got easier, getting closer and closer to the top before each inevitable crashing fall. Snow fell through the cracks in the lid, rain poured down on his face, roaring hot summer heat blasted him. But ever on he climbed. Until finally, his calloused, bleeding, cracked fingers, nudged their way under the lid and threw it open, letting the cool morning sunlight and breeze in. His mangled, disgusting hands reached over the edge, and he opened his eyes, only to slowly slip away....

Draven awoke with a jitter, and throwing himself back, away from the grass, eyebrows contorted as he looked wildly from the grass to his master, "Why did you do that!" He demanded, looking down at his hands....no cracks or mangled callouses. He looked around, no well, no solitary confinement.... He then looked up at his master, seeking answers to what had just occurred.

[member="Yuroic Xeraic"]