Debatable Contention

[Apocrypha]

Jedi Master Vin Galan.

There weren't a lot of Jedi Masters left, it seemed - many had perished during the double assault of Coruscant in the years leading up to Rorik's decade-long diaspora from his people, many more had been killed in open combat by the Sith and Imperium forces. With their numbers dwindling dangerously low - from an order that once swelled and flourished - Rorik and his fellow Padawans and Jedi Knights were slowly but surely to become the next generation of leaders and public figures within the order... that is, assuming they could wrest some control of the galaxy from Imperium hands and restore their rightful place as peacekeepers and arbiters throughout known space.

Regardless, it was a boon to have the remaining Masters that they did have, as powerful and well-versed within the Force as they were - and, of course, with their prowess concerning lightsaber combat. Rorik, in a mad dash to reclaim the years of neglecting his duty to become a respectable swordsman (and, instead, focusing primarily on his connection to - and understanding of - the Force), had been attending as many combat-related classes as he could manage, from Soresu, to Niman, to the Echani Martial Arts. Granted, he only had a workable foundation of the three techniques, but it was enough to build upon in the years to come; now, much like when he had directly contacted Master Von Raythe to educate him upon the tenets of Form VI, Rorik had requested Master Galan to instruct him in the dexterous subtleties of Form II: Makashi. The Way of the Ysalamiri.

The Contention Form.

Seated cross-legged, eyes closed, drawing focus and some comfort from the kasha crystal utilized as a focusing element within his lightsaber hilt, the Padawan awaited Galan's arrival patiently in one of the many training rooms, dug out of the hard cavern walls by the Rebel Alliance centuries before to be used as private barracks, or a General's office, or a store room - whatever it was then, it had since been refurbished to fill the order's need of a training room, much like several of the other numerous vacant rooms had been.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Vin moved through the halls of the Arbra Enclave at a non-hurried pace, his emerald green robe swishing across the rough floor. To some, it might be seen as pretentious, ostentatious, or even just plain grandiose. But to Vin, the green was part of who he was, a Corellian, a Jedi, a man who was never willing to forget who he was and where he came from. He had come a long way from the starving orphan he had been 28 years ago, when Master Valay had tracked him down and brought him to fulfill the destiny that had always been laid out for him. That of his father, his uncle, his grandfather, a long line of Galans that stretched back over 300 years, a strong tradition, a proud tradition.

He despised this planet. He always had. Remnants of The Darker, long since dead, still permeated the very essence of this world, a very palpable reminder of the past. And in truth, it made Vin uncomfortable. While the Dark Side was an every day threat for the followers of the light, being in its presence, even in a weakened and dead form, was taxing. But, they were here, by order of the Grandmaster, and while Vin would question all he wished, he would keep silent until it presented a real threat. The only reason here now was that his presence had been requested, by a learned interested in learning the blade. And not just the blade, but an ancient art of the blade that had largely been abandoned in this day and age, having it fall by the wayside in favor of the more blaster oriented styles, such as Ataru and Soresu. They were powerful styles, but a wielder of the ancient Art of the Ysalimiri had no equal in saber-to-saber combat. Vin was proud to pass on his knowledge, and keep the historical form alive.

After several minutes, he reached the sliding bulkhead door that had been installed as a barrier, and placed his palm against the locking mechanism. It beeped twice, and then the door slid open quietly, giving Vin access to the room. As he stepped inside, he scanned the bare rock walls, taking it all in as he settled himself. His eyes alighted on the Padawan learner, and he coughed lightly before speaking.

"Padawan, I understand you wish to train with me."

 

[Apocrypha]

"I would be honored, Master Galan," Rorik replied, rising from his meditative pose.

"To be succinct - as a boy, at the temple on Coruscant, and then on Tython, before the worst of the fighting, I neglected to sharpen my skills with a lightsaber." Clasping his hands behind his back, the Padawan bowed his head, briefly returning to reveries long past. "I found myself drawn towards the higher mysteries of the Force - and at the time, physical combat seemed so base, and crude, in comparison. It also didn't help that, at thirteen, I was a rather gangly boy, more like to stumble over my own feet than defend myself. Regardless, I found my way here to Arbra and Anoth and the Jedi once more, and decided it would be wisest - based on what I've seen in the galaxy during the ten years I've spent on my own - to hone my combat skills.

"I must admit, sadly," he went on, a frown touching his lips, "that my lightsaber was taken from me shortly after the sacking of Coruscant - when I was sixteen, or so; as a result, I was incapable of practicing for nearly a decade." Granted, this may have been a gift, in the long run; thinking back on it, Rorik realized that there were situations in that ten year time span that having a lightsaber on his person might have seen him captured or killed, ignited or not.

"Thankfully, Grand Master Daw assisted me in constructing a second, and I've been training since then; I've picked up the basic structures of Forms III and VI - and of course I learned the first form during my time on Coruscant. I am by no means a talented practitioner of any of these three forms, but with a focus on Niman, I feel that a deeper understanding of the first five forms is important - and while Shii-Cho, Soresu, and Niman have their own advantages and strong points, none are nearly as focused on lightsaber-to-lightsaber combat as Form II.

"With dark forces rising in the galaxy, it only seems a matter of time before facing other lightsaber-wielding opponents will be entirely unavoidable... and I wish to be prepared."

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Vin nodded slowly. He understood the desire for a Padawan to focus solely on the greater aspect of the intangible Force better than most. It was a grand adventure, one that many young Jedi had never expected to be able to take, and exploring the Force's currents and eddies was an addictive lure. However, at least to Vin, the living Force and the lightsaber went hand in hand, each an embodiment of the Jedi's path. The intangible connection to the Force, channeled through a Jedi, represented to Vin the responsibility that the Jedi were intrinsically linked to throughout the universe, helping those who could not help themselves, while the blade was a physical embodiment of the Jedi's responsibilities. One was dependent on the other. Through the Force, the Jedi controlled their blade, tapping into the reservoir that fueled all Jedi, and using the will of the Force to guide their movements, giving them the skill and power needed to wield the weightless blade.

"It is a dark time for the galaxy when those who wish to keep the peace must take up the sword to preserve." Vin was not a warrior at heart. He would leave that to the Guhoo's, but his skill in Makashi, to his knowledge, was unmatched. He had been a practitioner of it for almost three decades, honing his body and mind for the subtle movements and quick thinking the form required. "For those who wish to study the ancient art, they must be willing to find peace within themselves. Makashi is not a form of anger, or joy, or hubris, it is a form of serenity." He shrugged his shoulders, doffing his outer robe, and neatly hung it on a small peg near the door. This done, he turned back, and extended his hand, palm upwards, and made a small motion with his fingers.

"I have always admired the Grandmaster's skill and artistry in helping forge a blade. May I see it?"

 

[Apocrypha]

"It is, indeed," he replied, with some measure of solemnity. He regretted his necessity to become at least a reasonably formidable combatant - but again, it was a necessity. For the foreseeable future, at any rate. Mayhaps a day would find them in which he would no longer need to do battle... until that day, it wasn't a terrible idea to train.

"Certainly," the Padawan replied, offering the silver-and-red hilt to the Jedi Master with some sense of reverence - to him, the lightsaber represented the first steps towards coming into his own, both as a person and a Jedi. Having lost his first lightsaber years previous was troubling, but compounded by its hold over his past; the first lightsaber Rorik built was fashioned near-identically to his first - and only - formal tutor's own lightsaber. The Bothan Jedi Master had, of course, perished in the bombing of the Coruscant Jedi Temple when Rorik was thirteen. The hilt had been a powerful reminder, and the only memento left, of his greatest ally and companion. Its presence, and then its loss, had kept Rorik firmly rooted in the past for over a decade. With the aid of Grand Master Daw, Rorik had been able to confront his past and move beyond it, fashioning a lightsaber of his own design and preference. It was an important part of the young Padawan.

"Her help was not intrusive - but it was also invaluable. The brunt of the gathering and assembly I did myself, of course, but Grand Master Daw's guidance helped me understand the significance of relinquishing my past and allowing myself to move on to the future - and, in the process, craft a hilt that reflected my own taste."

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Vin took it, and looked at it appreciatively. "It fits you. A little heavy for my taste, but I'm sure it will serve you well. Remember, a portion of you is in this blade, the very components fitted together with a small part of your essence. It makes this more than just a blade, it makes it an extension of your very essence." With that said, Vin took the blade and hooked it onto his belt. "But for the beginning of your lesson, you will not need it." The training of Makashi was different than the other forms, the small movements and delicate forms were unlike any other style, and Vin did not favor the 'test the skill' portion of a lesson that many other masters favored. When he had trained with Master Valay, it had taken almost a year before he had been allowed to even touch a blade. In this turbulent time in the galaxy, Vin did not have the luxury of taking that time, but he could still get the basics across.

"Makashi comes from the center of you. The feet are centered, the body poised, the mind calm and serene. Unlike the other forms, practitioners of Makashi do not focus on attack or defense, but on the combat as a whole. You do not focus on the here and now, but on the future, the possible openings that your opponent may present to you, and how you will move your blade to position it to take full advantage. It requires a quick mind, a tactical mind, one able to overcome the limitations of self to focus on the larger picture." While Vin spoke, he demonstrated, moving his feet into a classic opening stance of the form, feet shoulder width apart, shoulders back, breathing slow and controlled. "You find your center, and do not allow yourself to be removed from it. The movements are small, quick, no energy wasted or lost, every muscle in sync."

Vin shuffled forward and backwards slightly, his feet quick, his balance perfect. "Find your center, Padawan. Remove yourself from any distractions, and allow yourself become whole with the Force."

 

[Apocrypha]

The Padawan faltered for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of his lightsaber being taken from him - but he quickly regained his composure, trusting that the Jedi Master knew what he was doing, and that no harm would come to the weapon. Instead, he focused upon Galan's instructions, letting the more experienced man's words resonate within him. Rorik had an impressive determination to better himself, evident in the seriousness and fierceness with which he pursued his training.

He placed his feet shoulder-distance apart, moving his shoulders backwards and relaxing his body, taking deep, calming breaths; eight beats in, four beats out, for several moments. With startling speed - indicative of years of practice and honing his prowess within the Force - Rorik entered a near trance-like state, able to discern his surroundings with excessive clarity, but apart from them nonetheless, trusting in and falling into the Force.

He had used this state in combat situations before, allowing himself to counter and go on the offensive with surprising accuracy, studying his enemy's movements, rather than just reacting. He knew, too, that it was particularly common among more skilled Jedi throughout history, and applicable to most forms of combat; ship-to-ship, lightsaber, sword, ranged, hand-to-hand.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Although the falter was only a moment, Vin could feel the unease radiating off the Padawan. Good. To effectively train for serenity, one had to remove the student from their comfort zone. They had to be able to center themselves in any situation, any surprise, and be able to keep their focus when the unexpected happened. The Padawan shuffled, his balance well maintained, his breathing calm and collected, but there was still a hint of unbalance. Vin let him continue, building his confidence in his movements, before stepping forward quickly and placing his leg behind the Padawan's, simultaneously pushing forward against the Padawan's chest with his elbow. It wouldn't hurt him, but it would help him find the mistake in his form.

When Rorik moved backwards, his weight was shifting to the heels of his feet, instead of staying on the balls. He might have felt balanced, but the easy shove would send him sprawling, and Vin would be there to help him up.

As he squatted over Rorik, his hand extended in a friendly offer, he spoke. "You have focus, Mr. Grey, but it is untempered, raw potential that must be honed. In Makashi, your mind is as much a weapon as your blade. The Force is strong within you, but you must remember, unlike drawing upon the force to fuel you, allowing it to flow through you like a wave, the Force guides your movement in Makashi, turning your mind into a scalpel, your body into a rapier, quick and razor sharp."

 

[Apocrypha]

Rorik took the Jedi Master's outstretched hand, quickly rising to his feet; there was no trace of anger, concealed or otherwise, on his features - it seemed the young man understood the mistake he had made, and sought only to correct it. Once you've taken a few good fists to the jaw, and the gut, and the nose, and the temples... they start to mean a little bit less, and being knocked on his rear-end was not sufficiently powerful to wound his pride.

"I think I understand, Master Galan," he replied, inclining his head. In truth, he felt he was only beginning to grasp the concept - a cursory glance would reveal that the tenets of Makashi, and even the act of focusing oneself so entirely upon a task, was both a challenging and complex feat to accomplish. Of course, there was a reason that even the most talented of duelist Padawans would never outright master any of the forms; they were multi-layered in their theories and practices, and required years of devoted study to truly pin down.

He was eager for the chance to begin down that road, nonetheless.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

"Understanding the tenets and living them are two wholly different aspects, Mr. Grey. Makashi is more than a form, it is a lifestyle, a way of thinking, a philosophy that must be embraced in order to fully engross yourself in it." Makashi was unlike any of the other forms. While the others focused on offense or defense, or strove to strike a balance between the two, Makashi was, in Vin's mind, a perfect form, unencumbered by the mental handicaps that the others required. The other forms required a certain way of thinking, while Makashi, although quite strict in many aspects, allowed the wielder to make their own path down its winding road.

Vin pulled Grey's blade from his belt, and proffered it out. "Take your blade, Mr. Grey, and make ready. Remember to feel, not think."

 

[Apocrypha]

Rorik listened, patient, doing his best to understand - often the musings of an experienced Jedi could be confusing, or perhaps overwhelming, to those within the order with less experience. He was certain that he would better understand, in time, but strove now to do his best in following the man's instructions; reaching out, he took his lightsaber and assumed the stance that Galan had just imparted to him. Feet shoulder width apart, chest squared, he centered himself - now an easier process with his lightsaber and its kasha focusing crystal returned and easily accessible - and fell into the Force.

To one as adept as Master Galan, experienced in the ways of the Force, it would be quite evident that Rorik had pooled it around himself, and was allowing it to flow cleanly through his being. He was almost alarmingly centered, wholly serene and calm, focused and uninhibited by the lesser minutia of the universe. He thumbed the ignition switch on his lightsaber and the blade leapt to life, hissing and spitting energy as the brilliant orange blade illuminated his torso and face.