- Joined
- Mar 2, 2011
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“Things are always a test here...” the girl murmured, advancing down the hallway as her hair seemly struggled to keep up in her wake. It had been almost a week since Cnile had the pleasure of waking up to the disconcerting, if overly cheerful, gaze of a protocol droid hovering outside the door to her dorm. Struggling to keep it's unsettling stare from causing her to lash out at the thing, she half stumbled into the rooms refresher and began to work on freshening up after having slept in. However, her attitude towards the droid had quickly changed when it informed her that she had been chosen by a master and he or she would arriving soon.
The first few days of that week, she had spent her down time lurking around the hangars, watching the comings and goings of the knights and masters there. She hadn't realized until them just how traffic the academy actually saw. By mid-week, however, she could no longer keep her nervous energy contained simply stalking the lounges surrounding the Temple's various hangar bays. She'd taken to spending more and more of her time down in the gym. Beating her frustrations into punching bags, and the occasional fellow initiate who was up for a quick sparring match.
Cnile took a sharp right and stepped into the gym once more, pulling two rolls of boxing tape from the folds of her robes as she did. She began to wrap up her hands, an ingrained habit that scarcely needed a thought. She was told her style resembled the Echani, apparently another human offshoot that had been spawned by the sleeper ships in the millennia she had spent in stasis. She'd watched a few fighters who claimed to be from the race, and she could not deny the similarities. Many of the basic stances and moves were the same, but there was a distinct difference. The modern Echani seemed to rely much more on flowing redirection moving the enemy's blow as it happened, where as hers focused more on keeping the enemy off balance with a more aggressive strategy.
As she walked up to one of the empty punching bags and opened up with a full force roundhouse, popping into the bag with a dull thud. She smiled as she reached down, using her hands to support herself as she twirled her legs around her. While she'd grudgingly admit the modern style had many tactical advantages, it just didn't have the same stress relief of blasting into your opponent.
She knew this was probably all a test of her patience, and that eventually her master would decide she'd waited long enough and show himself. In the meantime, however, she had a punching bag here that just looked to be having entirely too good of a day.
The first few days of that week, she had spent her down time lurking around the hangars, watching the comings and goings of the knights and masters there. She hadn't realized until them just how traffic the academy actually saw. By mid-week, however, she could no longer keep her nervous energy contained simply stalking the lounges surrounding the Temple's various hangar bays. She'd taken to spending more and more of her time down in the gym. Beating her frustrations into punching bags, and the occasional fellow initiate who was up for a quick sparring match.
Cnile took a sharp right and stepped into the gym once more, pulling two rolls of boxing tape from the folds of her robes as she did. She began to wrap up her hands, an ingrained habit that scarcely needed a thought. She was told her style resembled the Echani, apparently another human offshoot that had been spawned by the sleeper ships in the millennia she had spent in stasis. She'd watched a few fighters who claimed to be from the race, and she could not deny the similarities. Many of the basic stances and moves were the same, but there was a distinct difference. The modern Echani seemed to rely much more on flowing redirection moving the enemy's blow as it happened, where as hers focused more on keeping the enemy off balance with a more aggressive strategy.
As she walked up to one of the empty punching bags and opened up with a full force roundhouse, popping into the bag with a dull thud. She smiled as she reached down, using her hands to support herself as she twirled her legs around her. While she'd grudgingly admit the modern style had many tactical advantages, it just didn't have the same stress relief of blasting into your opponent.
She knew this was probably all a test of her patience, and that eventually her master would decide she'd waited long enough and show himself. In the meantime, however, she had a punching bag here that just looked to be having entirely too good of a day.