Wax On, Wax Off

[Ever Dawnracer]

It was rare that Ever ventured anywhere near the Jedi Temple on her Homeworld. It had been constructed about the time they had joined the Republic and almost immediately it's impact was felt. Jedi became increasingly prevalent on the world. She was aware that this was normal. The Republic was often associated with Force Practitioners. Normally that meant Jedi but there were some who professed no particular alignment as well. She didn't want to be any alignment and if she had any say in the matter she'd find a way to be cut off from the Force. She didn't like the thought of people using it against her.

Still, she'd gone to the Temple for a specific reason: to see if anyone there was gifted in martial arts and could teach it to her. Partially for personal defense, but also so that she could utilize it on the battlefield. Engaging in hand to hand combat was common for the Rangers when they were sneaking about on hostile world's. She wanted to be able to take the enemy down without noise, or even deal with Force Users who preferred close quarters combat over the use of Force powers to throw crap around.

She's been told of a master named [member="Tiland Kortun"] and that he might be able to help her, but she was directed away from the temple to a nearby forest glade and pond. She approached it without caution, sure that she was safe there, and cleared her throat.

"Master Kortun?" she called, looking about. "Are you here?"

 

[Tiland Kortun]

[member="Ever Dawnracer"]

Tiland looked up from where he knelt at the edge of the pond, inspecting the lines of the bark on the tree. He had sensed her presence as she approached and looked up, picking the staff up from where it rested in the cranny of the limbs. The tree bark led down to the roots which led to fibrous tendrils that led to the pond. It was there, along the edge of the water, that such a massive tree found its strength.

Not unlike themselves, in fact. Indeed, or all living things. Their strength was drawn from the Force. It anchored them and secured them, giving them roots to stand. From there, they would grow.

"Just Tiland, please, young Dawnracer," Tiland answered as he rose, pushing up on his hands. His voice rumbled across the quiet clearing, a gentle thunder in the Force. "Titles are rather like gloves that don't fit. It bears expectations and assumptions that can never be lived up to."

He stretched and ambled towards her, staff clacking lightly on the grass as he walked. After a moment he stopped and leaned on it.

"I hear that you are wishing to learn martial arts. Is such a thing true?"

 

[Ever Dawnracer]

"I suppose that makes sense. Though titles as such are usually earned, not freely given, aren't they?" she inquired as she approached.

This particular day she was not wearing her gaiter or her Ranger gear. She was dressed normally and only carrying her slugthrower on her hip, much like a wild card or roguish character would, though she was clearly neither as she was wearing a Republic jacket. Regardless she wasn't trying to be intimidating, she was just being herself. Not that she was overly worried about intimidating a Jedi Master. That would be something else entirely.

She hadn't been sure what he was doing when she approached but she also didn't feel like asking. What did it matter to her what he was doing? She was only there to learn martial combat, not to learn about crazy Jedi mumbo jumbo which was undoubtedly what he'd been up to. What else would he be doing out in such a secluded spot? She approached and studied him as she would an enemy, her eyes examining him from head to toe and determining that there were too many unknowns based on garb and physigue to say he was anything less than dangerous.

"Yes, I want to improve my martial skills since I'm often in the field and need to subdue foes silently."

She turned her eyes back to his.

"Will you teach me what you know?"

[member="Tiland Kortun"]

 

[Tiland Kortun]

[member="Ever Dawnracer"]

"Titles earned, titles taken," Tiland mused as he waved a gnarled hand in the air. "They are both illusions of grandeur that the recipient has met imaginary images that such a word invokes." He smiled faintly beneath his beard. "To be considered a Jedi master? Well, one must be old for that, I suppose, and perceived as wise and experienced." He laughed softly. "Which really, means the same as being old in many's minds."

He paused for a moment to remove his outer robe, revealing the tunic and pants beneath, before folding it neatly and setting it on the ground. He paused for a moment, settling the staff atop the robe, and strode to the tree fallen sideways into the pond. It had a trunk of great girth, half-sunk into the mud and water around the pond's edge. With a breath, he jumped and landed lightly atop it. A few steps took him into the center of the pond.

"Teach you what I know?" He considered. "That would take many of your lifetimes to teach everything I have learned. But, for your purpose, I can teach you many things." He held up a finger in warning. "But such lessons are not a means to mastery. Techniques and moved never exist within a vacuum. To learn them as such, will weaken their effectiveness, as a building without mortar. Be wary placing too much confidence in such things."

His feet shifted against the log, moving to be a shoulder width apart, but kept his arms loose by his side.

"For martial arts are not a style of combat, but of mastery over one's self. Only in mastering ourselves may we master those we stand against."

The old monk pulled his hair back and tied behind his head with a small leather strip.

"Are you still willing to learn?"

 

[Ever Dawnracer]

She listened, respectfully, though she wasn't sure whether to think he was off his rocker or if he was just a fanatic about his art. Suffice to say, to her he seemed like the former at first. The more he went on about it, though, the more she leaned towards the latter. He wasn't mentally unstable he was just very disciplined and a firm believer in what he had learned over the years. She still thought he sounded like a but but he was who she was directed to so clearly people believed that he knew what he was doing and was decent enough at it to teach.

"Well, to be honest that sounds a bit cheesy, but I think I understand it," she said before nodding. "Yes, I still want to learn."

Removing her jacket, she found a suitable tree with a short, stubby limb to hang it from. Next she removed her slugthrower. There was no point in having it on her when she was training for hand to hand combat. She was comfortable in her boots, so she kept those on and was left standing in a tank top and pants aside from the boots. Next all she needed was some direction on how to begin. He seemed content to stand on the log for the moment but she didn't feel compelled to do the same. Not that she wouldn't if she was just lounging around. Woods were where she felt most comfortable.

"How do we begin?"

[member="Tiland Kortun"]

 

[Tiland Kortun]

[member="Ever Dawnracer"]

"Cheesy?" Tiland replied, eyebrows raised in surprise."I was quoting an ancient treatise on warfare. But, perhaps, to modern ears, it seems cheesy." He took a few steps away from the end of the log by the waterline. "Come on up to the log."

He would wait a few moments for her to make her way onto the log and stretched out a hand. The log rumbled and shifted as he used the Force to pull it farther out into the water. As the object shifted, waves rippled back and forth. The log rocked up, rocked down, and rolled around on the water.

Tiland took slow steps, one foot over the other, and held himself still as the tree rolled beneath his feet.

"You wish to learn to subdue others. So," he said, gesturing with his hands held open wide, "Try to subdue me."

He took another step back so that his feet were more spread apart, but he turned his back to her and looked the other way. One hand stroked his beard as he moved and shifted with the log.

 

[Ever Dawnracer]

"Some things don't age well, but a lot of cheese does," she said, offering a shrug.

Beckoned to come to the log, she approached casually, not in a hurry, but not delaying either. Jumping up onto it wasn't overly difficult; she'd played on enough trees as a kid to get good at climbing and jumping. It was essential in order to avoid a broken melon. What she hadn't done was ride a log, while standing, when it was on the water. That seemed like an idea destined to end in disaster, and made her all the happier that she'd left her jacket and the like on dry land. She'd hate to get pond water and algae and junk out of it. Sure they had machines and stuff for doing it, but they never got everything out no matter how hard they worked to do just that.

And the log was rolling, and she was dancing on her feet to try and keep from ending up in the water. The old man seemed to take it all in stride and she was entirely not surprised by that fact.

"Sure, once I get my sea legs."

She could joke still, but she was also serious. Standing wasn't exactly easy on a rolling, bobbing log. But she began to peg the rhythm, and once she noted that it was only her affecting the log, she figured out the right placement of her own feet to slow the logs movement until it came to a stop beneath her feet and she held her balance. If he moved his feet it would change everything, but she took the opportunity to glide down the log towards him, using the slickness of the wood to her advantage, and reach out with her hands, one towards his right shoulder the other his left arm in an attempt to go for an arm bar and a half-chicken.

[member="Tiland Kortun"]