The makings of greatness

[Draven Dursden]

Draven would stand amongst the flowers and vegetation in the temple gardens. He stood next to an enormous, and beautiful fountain which let out long arcs of water, sparkling in the air as they fell peacefully. Draven felt anything but peaceful. He felt like crud covered crud. The young knight's face was still a mess from his last mission, one eye swollen completely shut, and his lip busted and only just healed shut. George...was still in the infirmary. It was going to be touch and go for him. Around the fountain stood a low set wall, and on the wall perched the thirty men which Draven had the pleasure of calling, his Dudes. They all wore the uniform, straight black with deep blue-gray shoulders sewn into them. But these were not soldiers. These were mercenaries, outlaws, men who had made their living dealing death, and that had pledged their loyalty to Draven. They had seen him through thick and thin...but now that George was removed, the only one keeping the wolves which Draven lead at bay, was Felix. Who was not nearly as intimidating as the borderline psychotic George.​

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The knight was shirtless, but from the waste down, he wore the same armor her always did. The repurposed trooper plates providing protection, and the many pockets a space to put things when he needed them. But most importantly, it's holsters were filled with a saber on each side. Or they would have been, if Draven had not interlocked the two hilts as he waited on the Padawan, he wanted to be at full capacity for their first training session, and not waste any time.​

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The Dudes let out cat calls to any women which passed, belching and farting, kicking and fighting amongst each other, a unsightly blotch against the beautiful landscape, gruff, hairy, battle hardened men roughhousing in the mud and dirt. They all kept their distance from their master though, eyes watching him with deadly intensity, every now and then one glancing at him, looking for any sign of weakness, anything which would suggest a potential opening for a challenge they might win.​

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His Padawan's first lesson would be how to read a clock.​

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@Jaräel il'Belaerys​

 

[Jarael Belaerys]

She stood tall, with a cocky look on her face. Jaräel bowed only a few inches for her new master. She was still resentful on being there, she didn’t like the smell of Wookies, she hated that jungle heat, and she had a new master. Hers, was the jedi master of the Silver Jedi Council, Tholme was a warrior, a fighter who defeated twenty troopers in a row before being defeated by those cowards of the knights of Ren. She fled for her life, with tears in her eyes, but she brought her masters saber and a proper DC-17 hand blaster. And now she was standing in front of a gun for hire, a Jedi with a eccentric way of teaching, a man that lead his very own group of swords, more like a mercenary than a warrior;

She fled with her masters ship and droid, all the way to Kashyyyk, where she was one of the first from the Galactic Alliance remnants to arrive from the ruins of the beloved democracy, now broken for the First Order to occupy and rule the galaxy with a iron fist.

Up in her feet, Jaräel pronounced her name in a cold way. “Jaräel il’Belaerys. I came from the Jedi Order in Mustafar, before it fell.” And stood down, with her ice-blue eyes focused in her new master. The Silver Jedi have send her to be a student of master Drven, a tall and huge man, with a elegant look in his face, unfortunately for Jaräel he had kind eyes, not the harsh eyes that Tholme always looked at his students.

She just wanted this to end quickly, she just wanted to become a Knight as fast as she could, for she wanted revenge, she wanted to crush the throats of those in the First Oder. She always tried to purge those thoughts out of her mind. For her becoming a jedi, she would need to find peace and balance with the Force, or she would be corrupted by the dark side. “Sorry the delay" She took a long sigh, pulling the heavy air around her, breathing the air back. Raising her voice a little. “When should we start... Master?” She asked in a calm tone with her husky voice.

 

[Draven Dursden]

The knight would begin to circle the Padawan, his sharp blue eyes taking her in her form, figure, and stature. She seemed... eager. Much like he had when he first began his training. He could practically feel the turmoil flowing off her in waves, it gave him a head ache. Something which on that particular morning, didn't take much. It already felt like someone was beating on his head like a drum, and the aching bruises which peppered his face were still fresh. Draven was not tall, in fact he was quite short, but the man more than made up for it with slabs of meaty muscle which filled out his frame.​

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After a moment of silent assessment, Draven would grunt, "We will start now." Drawing his saber, but not igniting it, letting her look over the larger, sturdier hilt than most sabers possessed. As he did so, the knight would explain, "Your first exercise will be a series of sparring drills against droids, so I can get a idea of where your skills are, and then we can continue from there."​

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With a grunt and a nod to one of his dudes, the droids would be set up for her, small orb like machines, which flitted around at high speeds, and when struck by a saber dialed down, they would deactivate. Crossing his arms, he would watch her movement and footwork, and continue to assess the force she was giving off. This would be a crucial starting point, if she was too close to the dark side, Draven would only teacher her Juyo. Vaapad was not for those that were insecure with their alignment.​

[member="Jaräel il'Belaerys"]​

 

[Jarael Belaerys]

All over her gorgeous and tall body, it could be felt the presence of serious eyes judging her. It did not judged her looks, and posture, it judge her mind filled with thoughts of revenge, it judge her heart: heavy as a rock, her pretty face, her blue eyes, the big breasts, the leather body armor the she choose to were, even the way she was thinking about answering her new master right now. At the first impression, Draven looked like a strong and muscular man, shorter than her, mas immensely more experienced and powerful, a man hardened by tens of battles, and when he said that they would start immediately the new padawan training her eyes jumped with a clear sign of how impressed she was about his hasting with a 'no time to lose' attitude. Her cold blue eyes went straight down to the lightsaber in his hand, a big and outdated weapon, fat and sturdier saber that should be old, really old. And when he talked about training her with spar movements, that was when her thick white eye browns united in a frown face, one that she did not allowed to be turned in her masters direction. The left hand closed around the curved hilt of her own lightsaber, drawing the amethyst blade in the sky and muttering with a formal attitude.
"As you wish, master Draven.", almost immediately her feet adjusted themselves in the proper position, one stood back and the other she kept in her knee angle, with the leg flexed and the two hands in the hilt of the saber, pointing straight ahead of her. Both of her eyes were kept relaxed, her mind thought that nothing outside of that droid existed in the moment, no First Order, no Sith Empire, nothing except that moment. And in her mind, she isolated the sound of others speaking, almost to the point that she could hear her own breath coming out of her nose, and when the droid bounced from left fast to the right, she kept her arm relaxed turning in that direction only by reflex, she could sense that he would not attack, not just yet. "Hm...", the Force was a river of life relaxed and calm, just like a boat roaming down steady, and that suddenly could be struck by a shaking that meant the attack, and she felt that shacking in her mind, she turned her body and raised her lightsaber against the shoot that the droid shoot in her direction. She turned her saber to the left when the shoot came again, and then she danced with her feet, roiling her two feet in the direction before the droid could arrived there, deflecting his shoot and striking from down to up in a blow that could be deadly, if she not restrained her arm and only touched gently in the training old thing just enough so the machined turned off. And she turning off her weapon, turned gallantly herself to look master Draven in the eyes, with a calm expression in her deep blue eyes. "Will that be enough, master?", and she waited her new teacher's orders about his feedback in what he just saw.