Clone Wars: Let's You and Him Fight

[Milek Tomberlin]

Tomberlin ought to have known better than to agree to duel with Zeke within earshot of others. Not only had Admiral Cho arrived to spectate, so had a grand majority of the Clones, including the Commanders, Sal and Coin. Kaligiros stood in the center of the impromptu dueling ring; a circle painted on the floor of the main gunship landing area. To his left and right, the fighters and gunships waited patiently for deployment as they hurtled through hyperspace with the fleet. Behind and ahead of himself, the long bay went on and on, seemingly forever. He had plans for this space as a training ground, to test his Padawan's speed and endurance. He wished sourly that such training had been the place's inaugural Jedi event. He worried that with so many spectators, the opportunity for Admiral Cho and Kaligiros to learn would be sorely diminished as the fight became entertainment for the Clones. All the same, he cut Kaligiros a commanding stare.

"Pay close attention to how we move. See the Djem So forms as I apply them, be mindful of how my movements compare to your own. This is as close to real combat as I can show you until our first land mission. See also how Zeke moves, and recall the basic Ataru that I have taught to you. Our styles stand at odds in many ways, though each shares the common purpose of entirely overwhelming a single enemy combatant."

"Yes, Master," said Kaligiros smartly, grateful not to be participating outside of officiating the match. He was beginning to get anxious; the infectious excitement of the Clones combined with Zeke's uncharacteristic lateness was edging at him. At last, Zeke arrived, bearing with him two long spars of metal in rough approximation of a lightsaber's size. Green emergency tape had been wound around lengths of them, marking the "blades" of the impromptu weapons. He tossed one to Tomberlin, who caught it handily and tested it's weight.

"Attention everyone," he called, as Zeke came to a stop with his heels on the ring's edge. "We will now hold a sparring match to demonstrate to my Padawan and Admiral Cho two of the Jedi Order's signature Lightsaber Forms. I will use Form V's Djem So variant, meant to overwhelm an opponent with brutal offensive maneuvers. Passive concepts like blocking and parrying have no place in this fighting style, nor do concepts such as jumping higher than a small hop or kicking above the waist. Form V utilizes a broad, stable stance to generate power blows that overwhelm and upset the defense of an opponent. Even in a defensive position, Form V stresses striking, actively hitting back against incoming blows to rattle and throw off the opponent."

There was a general murmur of understanding from the gathered crowd. Kaligiros nodded along appropriately; this was a lecture he'd received a multitude of times before. Admiral Cho simply gripped his chin with a pensive frown. Tomberlin looked to Zeke for Ataru's explanation. The human had his eyes shut and was swaying on the spot as if drunk, dancing to some tune in his own mind. Tomberlin scoffed. Whatever. "And Zeke," he sighed, unhappy with using the nickname, but seeing it's value as a time saver, "Shall be using Form IV, known as Ataru. Ataru uses flips, spins, and turns to generate it's striking power, overwhelming an opponent with a flurry of attacks that come from all angles. Unlike Djem So, Ataru utilizes jumping a great deal, including such acrobatics as cartwheels, somersaults, moonsaults, and more." He gestured to Kaligiros, then took Djem So's opening stance, his weapon held high overhead and angled down; his strong leg trailing, knees and elbows bent slightly, his core tensing as he prepared for action. Zeke brought his own weapon up to point at the closed bay doors overhead, the hilt held mere centimeters from his right ear, and grinned broadly. Tomberlin scowled at that. But at least the Human man had enough decency to take a proper stance.

"As lightsabers are deadly weapons, the combatants will duel until a single blow has been struck." Kaligiros's voice boomed in the space, in part from his own great lungs and in part from the Force's aid. "Begin!" he swept an arm down between them and stepped neatly back to the circle's edge.

[Zeke]

Kaligiros cleared the way just in time for Zeke to come flying in from the ring's edge, flipping and whirling to deliver a crashing blow to Tomberlin. The Chagrian Jedi sideslipped neatly, maintaining his stance, then stepped back in to rain his own hammerblow on Zeke's back. Zeke landed gracefully and rolled, clearing Tomberlin's falling weapon by a handful of centimeters and sprang up, turning his body and sweeping his metal bar in a crescent to catch Tomberlin's upward-diagonal follow-up and slide it neatly aside. He stepped and did a quarter turn into the open space and brought his makeshift practice weapon back in, forcing Tomberlin to bend backward so the green tape flew swiftly just past his nose.

"Hah!" Zeke couldn't help but laugh. This kind of competition, set out expressly to guide the combatants along the path of self-improvement, was always fun for him. Plus, Ataru was exhilarating at it's acrobatic peak, and soothing at it's more grounded pace. He could feel each rotation of his body, limbs, and joints as gentle circles, even the fast maneuvers, and the repetition was a help in clearing his mind. He noticed that Tomberlin was breathing steadily, his own attacks and defenses falling into the rhythm of it. He was sure that despite the look of irritation on his fellow's face that he was quite immersed in the Force. Zeke pushed jealousy aside in time with an upward parry that started from his elbows, tracing Tomberlin's weapon into a long arc that carried them both to positions far outside their bodies, then quickly snapped his body into a rotation that started in his knees and worked up his body, lending speed and strength to his counter attack. Unfortunately for him, Tomberlin swayed once more and came back on a blistering offensive, raining overhead blows from his right shoulder. Zeke blocked the first few, his "blade" held at a downward angle to let the strikes slide off, and then once he had the rhythm he added a short, arcing push to try and throw Tomberlin wide again. He spun with it, crouching low, and felt Tomberlin's countermove wing by over his head. As the displaced air ruffled through his short hair, Zeke stood, powering an upward blow that would catch the Chagrian in his ribs. Tomberlin rolled and turned, returning to Djem So's opening stance.

Zeke paced a circle, whirling his wrist, missing the hum of his real lightsaber as the green-taped metal spar flashed by in the periphery of his vision. "What have we learned?" he asked aloud to no one in particular. Tomberlin stepped once, and though there were several meters between them, that single gliding step carried him deep into Zeke's space, forcing the two to lock sparing weapons close to the Human's chest.

"We've learned you play, rather than train," Tomberlin grunted under his breath.

"Circles?" said Kaligiros skeptically.

"Yes, it seems to be that the Ataru is very concerned with the arcing motion, or some things like that," concurred the Admiral. "Though it seems that the...acrobatics...are less important than it was explained."

"Getting to that," grunted Zeke, feeling sweat bead down his temples. He stepped right and inside, turning and pushing so Tomberlin's weapon would unstick from his and slide off. Tomberlin, not to be fooled, turned and stepped with him and maintained facing, letting the metal bar fall sideways to set up a massive, home-run style swing.

[Milek Tomberlin]

The swing came in and Zeke backflipped over it, landed, carwheeled, and cut at Tomberlin's waist mid-motion. The turn of his cartwheel gave the move an arc, and Tomberlin found himself with no choice but to lean far once more. Zeke's weapon reached the apex of its movement, and with a circular flick of his wrist brought the weapon straight down. Tomberlin's shoulders met the floor as he rapidly brought his metal stick in line to stop it, finding himself in an awkward bridge. It wasn't right. The Human Jedi shouldn't be have been able to catch him out in this kind of position twice. Tomberlin breathed deep, sending his frustration out as the Force flowed in, and he shoved upward mightily against Zeke.

Zeke swayed back at the hips, the better not to get smacked in the face with his own weapon, allowing Tomberlin the space required to snap his body and regain his feet. It had been too close already, and Zeke was trying to press his advantage. The dark-haired Human short-hopped and flipped forward, bringing the taped-up bar down with rapid speed. The Chagrian Jedi pressed up against it, destabilizing his rotation and leaving him open. He brought his weapon around to stab at Zeke and win the duel, but Zeke managed a spin on the ball of his foot and avoided it narrowly. He hopped back and Tomberlin chased him with a series of oppressive lateral strikes, driving the other man back toward the arena's edge. Tomberlin surged in with a strong step, wanting to take up the space where Zeke was performing his small blocks to buffet him back with a shoulder tackle, only to find that the other Knight wasn't there.

Zeke tumbled through the air overhead, having taken the time for Tomberlin to step to draw in his own power and jump over him. Even as Tomberlin turned right to stop the strike that whistled in to meet his neck, he felt the insolent tap of Zeke's index finger on the tip of his right horn. "Nahahaha." It was more a statement than an actual laugh, but it brought a few the Clones to genuine laughter. And now, Tomberlin was to be mocked!? No! His weapon came up to vertical, a strike that would fly in fast enough to leave a welt on the disrespectful Human's forehead, but Zeke's follow-up attack cut in along its previous path and pushed the blow away. Zeke, landing catlike on the balls of his feet, set his arms into motion, the green taped bar whirling a fast infinity symbol as he struck over and over, the metal ringing as Tomberlin smacked at the strikes in sequence, looking for the proper timing to break the pattern and return to offense.

[Zeke]

Zeke looped the saber back in from the same direction. Tomberlin stopped it a hairsbreadth from striking him and pushed out and up with a strong yell, stepping forward as he brought the bar back down. Zeke sideslipped in the direction of his flailing arms, watching as the green tape snapped by him in the space of an eyeblink. Tomberlin came back, spinning on the ball of his left foot to keep himself in line with Zeke, hammering on the human's defense so hard it staggered him a few paces.

"I think my Master has the scope of it, now," said Kaligiros idly to Admiral Cho. "I believe he'll win it soon."

"Yes, it appears that Jedi Zeke is using the beginner movements." He shook his head with a rueful grin. "Such actions are useful in the trainings but not in the...real!...fights, I think. Jedi Tomberlin did not expect to see novice movements in this battle, so at first Zeke was able to trick him, or some things like that. But--now--I believe we will come to know...what is the true power of the Ataru. Annh."

Kaligiros smirked at the empty thinking noise as he turned his eyes back to the fight at hand. Tomberlin's arms moved at such a blistering pace that Zeke's movements had become small and conservative. The Human's tongue was set firmly between his teeth, his eyes focused in concentration at Tomberlin's sternum as attacks came from all angles. The Chagrian stepped with every movement, his pace becoming a rapid shuffle as he pushed Zeke towards the edge of the sparring circle. His blows did not follow a pattern so simple as what Zeke had produced so far, including unorthodox strikes meant only to unbalance his opponent, rather than also attempt to harm him. One such strike consisted of the weapon held vertically and buffeted against Zeke's horizontal guard. In most ordinary matches, this caused his opponent to fall to the floor, or to be struck with their own weapon. Zeke proved himself better than the mean and made a long, gliding step, as Tomberlin had done, only backward. With the shove to aid him, he made it all the way to the circle's edge; plenty of space to start Ataru's advanced movements.

"I do train, actually," Zeke said tersely, leaping in a ball and grazing Tomberlin's head as he twisted to land just behind him. "Learned a thing or two from you just now. Taught the spectators a little, too." The blue-skinned Jedi turned as Zeke spun on the ball of his right foot, ringing his metal spar on Tomberlin's three times before moonsaulting to a point behind Tomberlin's left shoulder. Tomberlin turned to press against a falling strike, turning his blade to point to the floor to sweep away the real blow that Zeke brought from low and to the left. "See?"

[Milek Tomberlin]

"Bouncing and spinning are not true fighting techniques!" gritted Tomberlin, smashing vertically as Zeke swayed back, spinning and throwing out a leg for a sweep. Tomberlin made a short hop and met Zeke's rising weapon with his own. The Chagrian pressed his metal spar to Zeke's, and with proper application of pressure and footwork the two were at a deadlock, their makeshift blades seemingly stuck together as with glue. Zeke crouched and stepped, turning his body to the outside and releasing the stuck weapons, but exposed his back to Tomberlin, who made a vicious vertical sweep at him. Zeke did a nimble backflip, holding his spar to the side and letting his movement put power to the move. Tomberlin slid on his knees to avoid the strike and stood, turning to meet a series of ringing blows that originated from turns made at the Human man's elbows.

"Of course they are. They're just not your techniques." Zeke jumped up and slightly forward over Tomberlin's next attack, standing on the Chagrian's shoulders before hopping down, rotating to bring down a raining strike. Tomberlin, for his part, slide slipped and stabbed behind himself, stepping to the rear a pace to ensure the move hit. The clang of metal on metal told him he failed, and the pressure shoving the spar away from his body told him which way to move to crash his weapon against Zeke's. The movement, consisting of a step and turn, brought enough force to bear that Zeke actually dropped his weapon. "Actually," said Zeke, "Maybe they are a bit."

[Zeke]

Zeke dodged wildly as Tomberlin pressed the advance, quickly driving the Human away from his fumbled weapon. Zeke swayed and leaned, stepping and hopping to avoid the powerful, lightning-fast strikes. And he made crazy noises the entire time.

"WAAAUGH! HHRRRG! HWOOOO! GRAAA! GLABBET! NOOOOOOO!"

Zeke had worked his way to the fighting ring's center, stepping to the side and turning on his heel as Tomberlin stepped through his space with a strike that would've knocked the mouthy Jedi squarely on the crown of his head. Zeke continued his rotation, standing back-to-back with his Chagrian opponent.

"FAT!" he cried, hopping backward and striking Tomberlin in the small of the back with his butt. Tomberlin, astonished at the childish move, stutter-stepped forward to keep his balance, his own grip loosening on the metal spar. Zeke caught it from the air, whirled on the ball of his right foot, and rapped the Tomberlin smartly across the back. "I am the wiener," Zeke announced as an angry Tomberlin turned to face him. His whole face was schooled into a sharp look that would've stabbed Zeke absolutely to death.

"Ooh," cringed Admiral Cho, speaking quietly aside to Kaligiros. "It is a hard loss to bear for Jedi Tomberlin."

Kaligiros grimaced himself. He'd never seen his Master lose a duel in person before, though Tomberlin openly admitted to being defeated by several members of the Jedi Order. He figured that it was the range of Zeke's attitude from nonchalant to outright crazy that would bother his mentor the most. Kaligiros just hoped it wouldn't come out in his training later.

"Surprised you," Zeke said. "Didn't expect my ass to kick you."

Tomberlin's jaw dropped and his brows crawled even closer together in indignity at the foul language. He shut his mouth and called Zeke's discarded practice weapon to hand, ready to begin a second duel and teach this upstart about what true fighting should be, when a Clone from the sidelines piped up.

"I thought General Zeke had two weapons? If you're going to fight again, he should use two sticks."

There was a pique of interest that swept through the crowd. Everyone wanted to see Zeke dual-wield. Kaligiros in particular was loud in his approval of the idea, an occurrence which Tomberlin found grating. Unfortunately, his Padawan was so busy sending a Clone to fetch another makeshift lightsaber that the blue Jedi couldn't even catch his attention for a reprimand. However, when he looked at his enemy, Tomberlin found the man's attitude had changed totally. Now Zeke stood anxiously shifting his weight, trying to protest over the clamor. Tomberlin set his mouth in a grim smile and waited for the returning Clone.

The second weapon was, appropriately enough, wrapped in a different color of tape. Zeke caught it as it was passed forward to Admiral Cho, who tossed it end over end to the Jedi's waiting hand. The short-haired Knight grimaced at the harsh, safety-orange wrapping that sloppily marked the part that simulated a blade, then set himself in a stance. "This is not going to go well," he said into the sudden silence. Tomberlin took the Djem So stance once more, and Kaligiros affirmed that the rules for dueling hadn't changed. Then, with a sweep of his arm, he called the fight to begin.

Zeke lunged, bringing the weapons in from opposite directions. Tomberlin rapidly struck both weapons aside, leaving Zeke's body wide open. The wily Human sideslipped and began to hammer furiously at Tomberlin with lateral strikes. Tomberlin's defense didn't break. Instead, Tomberlin slipped his weapon to the outside of the stick in Zeke's left hand, and, with a backward step, pressed it hard into the right-hand weapon. With Zeke's "blades" crossed, and his arms dragged far out of line, a single, rapid stroke against his shoulder ended the duel. Zeke's released the practice weapons and let his right arm hang, rubbing at the impacted area with a rueful grimace. "Told you," he grumbled, half-grinning through a wince of pain. "Dual-wielding is the worst."

[Milek Tomberlin]

"You attack like a child, wildly beating away," Tomberlin chastised. "Why simply beat away like that?"

"Integrity time: Most of the practice I've had dual-wielding has been against Padawans who just needed to learn to block rapid strikes from multiple avenues, and most of the time when i'm attacking in an earnest fight, I'm bringing both sabers from the same direction like if I was using just one. The second one I usually use telekinetically as a projectile or to make a sneak attack. I have almost no real experience with it. I'll lose every time trying to do this. It's really, really hard." He pulled his shirt collar down and to the side to inspect the heavy welt left by Tomberlin's strike. "Didn't hold anything back, did you?"

Tomberlin scoffed at Zeke's petulant tone. "If you did proper training with a serious mind, perhaps you'd not have come off so poorly." Tomberlin discarded the metal pole and turned on his heel, walking through the dispersing Clones. "Kaligiros, come along. We've not done proper training in days." Kaligiros sighed, watching sidelong as a few Clones, including Commander Coin, stepped up to look at the rapidly growing bruise on Zeke's shoulder. With a silent resolution to speak to Zeke later, Kaligiros hustled off to do his practice.