Training on Ession

[Armand Temi]

Armand walked into the makeshift Jedi Academy on Ession, leather boot soles clicking on the floor. His brown tunic and pants were simple linen garments, his long hair tied back from his shoulders with a tan strip of fabric. With the Grand Temple still under-construction an old military barracks had been converted to a training facility right beside it. He had arrived to meet his new Jedi Master [member="Graxin Rade"], the Archlord of Ession. Nerves were getting the better of him and he had to remember to breath deep. There was so much he didn’t know about Jedi training and he had heard all sorts of rumors – that it's incredibly difficult, painful, thrilling or even mind numbing but nothing he could substantiate as he did not know many Jedis back on Hapes.

He did know the training would be stressful, but he hoped his Hapan Navy experience would help him get through these trials both physically and mentally. He had only previously glimpsed the Archlord in his armor, face obscured by a Phrik helmet so he wasn't even sure if he would recognize the man not encased in metal. After passing by a few smaller rooms, he found a larger, more open room towards the middle of the building that looked big enough to conduct Jedi training. He sat in a folding chair outside of the room and waited for his new teacher.

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War was coming. Everyone able bodies on Ession was preparing to take the fight to the One Sith as it was. Even allies from the Protectorate were showing out to help stop the Sith in their tracks.

They had taken Graxin's sister, and while he would have went anyways as it was the right thing to do, it had become personal.

The Jedi Master was reeling from the loss, but he kept himself composed. He wore his full armor, ebony plate, Phrik helmet, the entire shebang. It wouldn't do to walk around without armor when people needed to see him ready for war.

His last Padawan had deserted just before becoming a Jedi Knight. Three long years of training, and the boy had thrown it all away - along with the brotherhood he had shared with Graxin. The Archlord had loved his Padawan like a son, and when he ran off to serve force knows what without a note, it was crushing.

Still, students needed teachers, and Graxin was a mentor at heart. He had chosen the Hapan as his Padawan for reasons of age and experience. Armand had served on the military, just as he had before becoming a Jedi.

The two had similar pasts, and similar upbringings. Training the young man would do well to ease Graxin's own troubled mind.

He approached with his was held high, shoulders back, twin lightsabers swaying from his hips.

"I do hope the warmongering hasn't gotten into your blood too much." He rumbled, and held out an armored hand. "It's messy, yet neccesary business. My name is Graxin, but you can call my Cyril if you want son. Graxin is my Graug title."




[member="Armand Temi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Luckily the Ession Archlord was easy to spot after all. Armand rose from his chair to greet Graxin and even though he himself was tall, he felt quite insignificant next to the heavily armored Jedi Knight.

[SIZE=11pt]"I have to admit I have not seen much of war in my short lifetime," Armand replied. "Hapan is a peaceful planet and military threats are few and far between. But I believe in the Ession Reformation values and will align with you on whatever the cause." He bowed as he'd been taught to do in front of his elders and matriarchal superiors on Hapes and added, "I'm in your debt for allowing me to be a Padawan under your instruction." He smiled and added, "Cyrill, I'm ready to begin at your command."[/SIZE]

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The young man was far more respectful than previous students, so that was a plus. Behind his mask, the Archlord cracked a wide smile. Regrettably, the helmet continued to make him look like he was in a constant state of judgement.

To kill or not to kill as it were.

Wordlessly, the Jedi master folded his arms behind his back, and marched on down the hall.

The Grand Temple was bustling with activites. Knights, Masters, and Lorda all clambered for their armor. Padawans ran about collecting supplies for their mentors. Soldiers filed in to help move things along. It was chaos, and Graxin seemed entirely at peace with the situation.

They would be leaving tomorrow morning, as it should be. The sooner the better.

Abruptly, The Lord turned toward what looked to be a part of the wall, and set his hand against the cream colored surface. The wall pressed inward and swung on a hinge. Through the door was a small circular room lit by flaming torches.

The floors were a sharp shade of ebony, and the walls were clearly made of some kind of obsidian. Cases full of weapons ranging from lightwhips to blaster cannons lined the walls, and practice droids stood dead in the center of the room.

"This is my special little room. Don't worry though, I am only interested in women."

The Master snickered at his own joke, and turned about on his pupil.

"What do you know of the Force my friend?"





[member="Armand Temi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

The Ession Archlord didn't take off his helmet which made Armand wonder just how many enemies Graxin had to encounter on any given day. The helm was made of phrik, a compound Armand was familiar with but had rarely seen. He knew for a fact that the Hapan Queen's Secret Commandos wore phrik but that was his only exposure to it.

Armand followed Cyril down the hall as they made their way to The Grand Template which to Armand's surprise they were going to train in after all. The war preparations were in full swing now and anyone who wasn't armored up wore a tense or anxious face. The room in which they entered was intimidating to say the least and without meaning to Armand glanced at the door to make sure he wasn't getting locked in here.

"What do you know of the force my friend?" the Archlord asked.

"I suppose I always knew I was Force sensitive but I come from a powerful political family on Hapes," Armand replied. "With three sisters," he added for dramatic effect.
"You know "Keep Calm and Honor the Queen" and all that." He was referring to the strongly matriarchal society of his home planet. "I just wasn't given the opportunity to grow any of my talents." Armand shrugged.
"I suspect my path of medicine has been enhanced by my Force sensitivity. And I do enjoy quiet contemplation at times. But that's about it." His eyes again flicked to the crumpled droids on the floor of the training chamber. He let out an anxious breath, feeling very out of his depth.

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"I was a healer before the war began. The first war with the Sith I mean. Funny how it changes us." Graxin commented.

He smiled behind his mask. The young man's apprehension was thick in the air. It fell over him like a thick blanket, one only had to open their mouth to taste it. A Sith would have drawn sadistic pleasure from the former medic's distress; Graxin only sought to comfort his pupil.

Without a word, The Lord reached up to pull back his cowl. The seals on his helmet popped as he removed it as well, and clipped it too his belt.

Sharp amber eyes stared at Armand. An angular face with fair skin and a thin beard matched with short raven hair marked Graxin Rade as a rather ordinary looking man; save for the multitude of scars carved in thin gashes across his brow. They were from a forgotten time, and Graxin wore them proudly. All in all, he looked to be in his early thirties.

"I was royalty. My mother is the Queen of Naboo. Before that, my father an Emperor. Not as private as nobility, but I somewhat understand.""

He Archlord offered him a warm smile, one that dropped any possibility of hostility or distaste from the mind. He was genuinely pleased to be speaking with the young man.

"The force is our guiding hand. It takes us where we need to go, shows us what we must do. We give it faith, and it rewards us with good deeds and a connection to the galaxy around us."


Sith pervert this, taking the peaceful symbiotic relationship with the force, and crushing it. Like beating a Kath Hound puppy because it can run fast enough. If one were patient, the puppy would grow, and eventually outrun its master. The Sith lack such patience, and take the easy way. The Kath Hound eventually grows up, and when it's big enough, it turns on its master."

His smile widened. "I'm afraid I have a penchant for philosophy and...just talking the war off."




[member="Armand Temi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Once the Archlord of Ession removed his helmet, Armand was put a little more at ease. The Ession Jedi appeared to be only a few years older than Armand but his face suggested a galaxy-weariness that the Hapan padawan assumed came with ruling a country and battling an ever-changing, pervasive enemy. He also tried to relax because he didn't want to come off as a gangling bundle of nerves.

Cyril spoke warmly about his background and thoughts on the Force. Armand nodded, listening intently and after the Jedi Master finished, he said, "I understand. My own people on Hapes think nothing less of waging war on each other to appease whatever political movement is in fashion. It can be frustrating. But a mere child's tantrum, I suppose, as compared to the wrath of the Sith."

If Cyril's goal was to put his mind at ease, the goal was somewhat achieved, enough to ask his next question.

"What will my training consist of first?" Armand inquired.

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"A good question my friend." The Master replied cryptically.

He began to circle around the room, running his gloved hands along the dips and eddies of the obsidian walls. His lips pressed into a thin line, and the slight furrow of his brow suggested that he was thinking on something.

He came to a halt next to a podium that housed a case full of melee weapons of all kinds. He ran his fingers over the hilt of a lightsaber staff, and turned to look at the Padawan.

"I expect you to learn of Jedi History from the archives. Both the Dark and the Light. You must learn of your enemy before you ever hope to face it."

It was not an answer to the question, and yet it was. Cyril Mason very much enjoyed his obscurity.

"Particularly excerpt on the origins of the force, put together by Master Yoda. The great schism that led to the birth of the Sith. The Rule of Two and the rise of Darth Bane, the Sith'ari. Then the issues of the Jedi Knights and their apathy toward the soldiers under their command during the Clone Wars."

He turned to look at Armand, amber eyes twinkling with amusement.

"All answer can be found in our great history...as for what you will learn directly from me..."

The Archlord motioned with a finger, and the staff flew from the podium. It came to land in his hand, the the twin emerald blades hissed to life.

"You've only ever felt the faintest trickle of the force. A fraction of a raindrop to wet the tongue. To truly become a Jedi, you must sink yourself in its great river, immerse yourself in its depths, and move wherever the current takes you."

"Close your eyes. Open yourself to the force. Nothing else exists that could ever matter so much. Focus on it, let it become your focus, your guiding light. Step into the waters, and tell me what you feel."




[member="Armand Temi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

On the subject of learning, Armand wanted to appease his master. He longed to tell him about his University degree, his med/sci background and his thirst for knowledge. He would be a dedicated student for which there would be no doubt. And when the Archlord beckoned his spear by using the Force, Armand was truly dazzled. But Cyril had urged him to turn inward and open his mind so he nodded, closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

It took a few minutes to feel what he had felt so long ago on Hapes, that which had been so repressed especially in recent years. But once he did there was no denying it. He felt an energy move through him like blood through his veins. He could also feel, on a very small scale, the essence of time itself. But as he further embraced it, it took his breath away and he gasped aloud. He opened his eyes and looked at his master.

"It's difficult to put into words," he said. "I... I felt a current, like life itself but a river. And it also felt like time," he said struggling to describe the feeling. "And yes, it felt powerful but I felt extremely far away from its power if that makes any sense."

He stopped to examine his master's reaction. What he didn't tell Cyril was that he felt something darker as well, something more disturbing as if life and death were having a power struggle in the deepest recesses of his mind.

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"This is only the beginning my friend. Your connection is faint, but it is there. Overtime it will grow, and doing something like this-"

The Archlord tossed the staff up into the air. It twirled twice, leaving faint emerald trails in its wake, and came to a halt mid-air.

"- will take little more than a faint thought."

Graxin cracked a pleased little grin, and called the weapon back to his hand. He clipped it to his belt, along with the two other blades he wore previously, and strolled over to the Padawan, arms folded over his chest.

"Normally, I would give you a regulated training regimen, but we're at war. I have to lead the army. You will accompany, and I will teach you all that I know. It will be unorthodox, but you'll at least have more field experience than most."

The Master clapped a strong hand on his pupil's shoulder. It was a show of comraderie, of approval. He turned partway toward the podium. Four weapons shone bright in pale artificial light.

"I will teach you to mend wounds first. As Jedi, we have to know how to help before we ever begin to learn how to keep the peace. However, in the coming days, you will need to master a blade of your own. One day, you will craft your own lightsaber. Until then, I'm sure you know how to use a blaster."

It looked like he was going to leave it there. The Archlord pursed his lips, stared at the weapons, and sighed.

"But you must learn the blade. All of these lightsabers have great significance to me. You will choose one to carry with you, to learn to use, to maintain and become familiar with - and eventually, to fight off the forces of darkness."

Cyril let his hold on the younger man fall away, and he strolled on over to the case. Carefully, he placed the staff within, and motioned to each weapon.

"The standard lightsaber. Designed for two handed cleaving and defending, the traditional weapon of the Jedi Order. The Lightsaber Staff, the weapon of Jedi Shadows and Peacekeepers. Difficult to master, great in effect. The Lightsaber Whip, a highly unknown and versatile weapon. Finally, Lightsaber Pike. A long cortosis hilt with a short blade. It is highly unconventional, rarely seen, and extremely difficult to defend against while providing an impenetrable shield against singular opponents. I can teach you with any of these weapons, but only one will be yours to carry until you build your own."



[member="Armand Temi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

The Archlord made it look so easy that was for sure! To control his staff with that kind of precision and not even have hand on it... well, Armand couldn't grasp the physics and mind power needed. But as Cyril said, that type of Force display would take time.

As Cyril described each of the weapons' benefits, Armand listened. Once the Jedi Master was done, the Hapan padawan said, "While you're correct in that I'm not proficient in sword-fighting, I did have fencing and self-defense classes in my Hapan Navy training. I think I'll be able to grasp the basics the quickest with the standard lightsaber." He longed to hold it in his hands but did not dare ask.

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So Armand had want for the standard blade. Good, that was what Graxin made use of. Most dual wielders made use of shotos to compensate for a single mainland blade. The Archlord made use of two standard blades instead.

It provided him greater reach and momentum with each swing, at the cost of maneuverability. The trade off was mostly beneficial, as Graxin was rarely ever one the defense in combat. He made a point to force his enemy into a corner with the pinpoint accuracy of his modified version of Niman, and various force abilities he had worked into his sets through many years of training.

The Master reached out a hand. The lightsaber flew from the case, and landed in his hand with a metallic thud.

The hilt was a slick shade of silver, and pointed at the end to maintain a longer blade. He ignited the weapon, and it produced a blade as dark blue as a raging sea.

"This was my brother's lightsaber." He said ominously.

The weapon died, and the Archlord tossed it one handed to the Padawan.

"I leave it in your care."






[member="Armand Temi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

As he caught the lightsaber he weighed it in his hands for a moment. It was much lighter than he imagined, but then the heft would come when the saber was ignited with energy. Armand looked up at Cyril and said, "I don't know what to say... only that I'm honored to be wielding this weapon. I will take good care of it." He evaluated the Ession Archlord for any sign of emotion. "I hope you don't mind if I ask... your brother, what happened?" Armand didn't want to pry but he felt that he needed to know the history of both the weapon and the man to which he would be trusting his life.

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Graxin had expected the question. He was in no way a stone wall when it came to emotion. The Master could control himself, and set it aside when it was needed. He's turned away more than one woman in the middle of the night, and set aside loyalties to save the lives of strangers.

It was when he looked back on his decisions that the pain struck.

The Archlord said nothing for a long moment. Corrik Rade was one of his many failing in his career as a Jedi Knight. Second only to the glassing of Telos and the abduction of his sister by the One Sith.

"My brother was a troubled soul. We were raised by the Graug of Gratos, you see, as tools of Darth Vulcanus, the Sith Emperor at the time." Graxin began.

His expression became dismal. It was not a happy topic, but one he would not avoid or lie about.

"I freed him when the Empire fell. Tried to help him, but the Dark Side had him. There was no saving little Corrik." The Archlord sighed. "I couldn't kill him. It wasn't the Jedi way, and he was blood. I banished him on Dathomir, and I haven't seen him since. None of my siblings have fared well save for the little one, and she is six."

He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, and offered a slight smile. "Anything you wish to know, I will tell. I'm transparent."




[member="Armand Temi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

"So he may still be alive?" asked Armand. "Doesn't that give you hope, Cyril? That one day he'll return to the light side?"

Armand felt sympathy for his master. Growing up with only sisters in a matriarchal lineage, the Hapan would have been thrilled to have a brother and would have done everything in his power to save him from going to the dark side. Cyril did his best I'm sure, he thought. He ventured an idea.

"Maybe... well one day we can go to Dathomir and see how he's faring. I'll go with you if you want. Surely, there's something we can do..." He trailed off, knowing this subject was difficult for the Ession Archlord.

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The capacity for compassion and patience required to even try and go back to helping Corrik was beyond Graxin. The Archlord had devoted years to helping the young man. In return, a village of Ortolans had been slaughtered, the One Sith assault on Ossis had been a success, and the spirit of Darth Vulcanus lived on.

"I hold a faint hope." Graxin murmured. "But there are some people too steeped in the Dark Side to ever return. We must try and help them, but there comes a point when you realize they are beyond it. When they simply stop caring."

The Master breathed a heavy sigh, and shook his head. Now was not the time for lamenting about a lost cause.

"Perhaps one day my friend. Perhaps one day...tell me of your family. I am curious about my Padawan."




[member="Armand Temi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Armand nodded at Cryil and lowered his eyes. He wasn't sure if it was The Force or just emotion but he could literally feel the Archlord's sadness. Then Cyril wanted to know of his own family.

"My Hapan upbringing was fairly typical," he replied. "I'm lucky that I come from a noble family but being the only male among three sisters... let's just say I was the last in line for anything." Armand tried not to sound too bitter but he did harbor a resentment towards his parents and their pursuit of power and status, especially his cutthroat siblings. "I suppose it was my own type of hardship but my childhood could have been a lot worse."

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Cyril offered a slight nod. He had been to Hapes. He understood what went on there.

The Archlord folded his arms of his chest, and strolled over to his Padawan. For a moment, he said nothing, looking as if he were assessing the former medic.

"Men are lower class there. I've been to Hapes. I don't intend on returning."

The Master snickered, but it was true. Hapes wasn't a bad world, it just wasn't his favorite place to be. It reminded him too much of Dathomir, a world where he only had terrible memories.

"And why do you want to become a Jedi Armand? Glory? Power?" Cyril lofted a brow. "I can offer you none of these things."


[member="Armand Temi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Yes Dathomir, thought Armand. Home of the Rancor and Witches of Dathomir. The male species were treated as slaves and while Hapes was less tribal, he mentally agreed, that there was a similarity. It was reassuring that Cyril understood.

At the question of why Armand wanted to be Jedi, he contemplated his answer. Power? He had never truly had it nor had he ever earned it, as most of his family ties had paved the way. Glory? He was a scientist with an altruistic goal of helping alien species. Glory didn't fit into his wheelhouse. However he wasn't immune to either charm of Power and Glory either.

His voice rang out louder than he intended. "I would like to grow my own talents on my own terms. Without help from my family. Without being under anyone's shadow." Armand looked at Cyril hoping he didn't offend and in a softer voice he said. "Don't get me wrong. I'll be a very good student. I just want see where this path takes me and what opportunity it opens up to make a difference in the galaxy."

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The boy had a bit of conviction. Good, he would need it.

Cyril lofted a brow at his reply, and offered a slight smile. The saberstaff in his hands twirled about with a slight movement of the fingers. Its silver hilt glistened in the pale amber light of the obsidian torches, and cast vivid orange reflections acrosss the ornate ebony tiles.

"I can't deny you that." The Jedi Master replied.. "Your reasons are purer than my own. I became a Jedi to escape the Sith and meet my mother. You could say that the teachings took route and kept me from leaving."

The Archlord shrugged. It was nothing spec, and more than one stranger had asked him if he truly considered himself a Jedi. Cyril Mason had no reservations about his allegiance, and he always told anyone who asked such - he was a Jedi Master. Refusing to be entombed by Grayson's Order did not detract from that.

"I am honored to teach you Armand." The saberstaff hissed to life.

"Let the force take you. allow it to guide your movements. You are only a vassal of its will. It will not fail you."

And then the exotic weapon swung to cleave [member="Armand Temi"] from shoulder to hip.

The weapon was powered down to avoid injuring the Padawan...but Armand did not exactly need to know that.