Out that Sarlaac Pit

[Sirdi Kōhō]

When it came to the Jedi Code, there was always the three pillars—the Force, Knowledge, and Self-Discipline. They were meant to guide initiates throughout their lives; heady stuff. Sirdi knew. He had a whole datapod on the stuff. Besides the mess hall and his swoop bike there wasn't much to distract him. So, he read and read. There were document files on the Jedi Code.

He skimmed it.

Nightly. It helped him fall asleep.

He could recite the code, but he barely understood it. Then, there was the stock pile of vids on file. He watched those a lot.

The lightsaber training holos kept his eyes locked. And, eventually his arms loose. The stances, forms, strikes, styles, practices all had names he couldn't pronounce. When the re-shipment of synthetic crystals landed, he was one of the first to get a training saber. Between closing his eyes, crossing his legs like a 5 year old youngling during storytime and pretending he was meditating, he was getting zapped by a remote in his room.

Sirdi tried new things before like nega-ball or gungan dance but none left him with welts. A saber swung the wrong way here, missed blast there and he was licking his wounds. Not the kind of growing pains he expected when being reassigned to Ossus. Still, he got bored. Boredom mixed with frustration was a recipe for trouble: swinging a blade around was the best kind of trouble.

So, that was the cycle. He sucked. He hated sucking and sucked a little less. Every night and often in the morning he played the Shii-Co holovid or as he called it That Frellin Sarlaac Crap. The holo hovered about. He'd practiced the maneuvers at first. Then, grabbed the saber. After a few cuts of the air, he started up the remote. He'd block a few.

Then, ZAPP!!!

[Sirdi Kōhō]

The durasteel corridors didn't hum at night like during the day. The dorms were devoid of unrest. Jedi occupied each room. Silence meant peace, knowledge and all those other mantras. Each door jammed shut for sleep, meditation and who knows what. However, on this evening, there was a murmur. Or, rather a yelp; room 216 let out a "ouch!".

Zap! "Ouch!"
Zap! "Frack.."

Bzz! "Ha!"

The bolt bounced back off the practice saber. The inside Sirdi's room was lit with activity. His training laser sword illuminated the room in yellow. It purred with life. Sparks blazed from the remote's shots. The whiring blade croaked when the saber was hit. And, the saber was hit because Sirdi was blocking.

"Body tahgets..." He mumbled. He heard it over and over from the records. The trainer gave the 6 points. Sirdi soaked them up like a sponge. It was the implementing part that was hard.

"Head."

[Sirdi Kōhō]

14 years ago


Red blaster bolts blew by as yells and shrieks echoed in a large dark hangar bay. Above glowed small lights from the high ceiling to ensure the landing dock was dim. A gleam of white sparkled in the darkness. The glistening, polished, colorless shine was fluorescent but the black eyes at the beings’ heads revealed gloom. In the figures clutches were blasters. Their trots were orchestrated. They moved as a unit. They were one. They were stormtroopers.

“Keep your head down, damnit!”

Behind a stack of boxed cargo holds crouched an armed man; he was human. His skin brown and iris browner, his brows were furrowed. His shoulders were wide. His strong jaw line and stare revealed he was an adult but the chin fuzz showed he was barely one. Straps holstering weapons wrapped around his chest. A paramilitary shoulder strap armored his left arm. Twin blasters pistols were clutched by his head fully charged and ready. Alongside him were two youths. Their features were similar. Their eyes just as soft, but weak with fought back tears. One was an older girl, berets in her hair but lean physique of a growing adolescent. The other was even younger and a boy. All three’s backs were pressed against the containers and ahead shone a beacon light of a corridor exit. Above flew more blasts. The troopers were incessant.

“Go, take Sirdi! Run!” The young man barked at the young girl. “And watch your head..”

[Sirdi Kōhō]

The stun blast whoosh pass the Jedi initiate’s head skull like a wayward bird. He ducked. Crouched with his legs apart for balance, he watched as the remote hovered and swayed to the side. It twisted about. Then, it lifted. Once more another shot flared from its holes. Impulse told Sirdi to leap out the way. Fight or flight instincts had taken over more times than he could remember. The last time he leapt he hit a wall. His dorm, like all the others, was small. Too much evasion to the left and he’d be on his bed shocked by the remote and ailing a bruised knee from the tripping. Too much dodging to the right and his mirror would be cracked. Also, he’d have a very unhappy neighbor.

Neither was good for his image.

So, he let training take over. His shoulder lifted and wrist locked. The clutch grew together around the training lightsaber’s hilt. This was no time to let sweaty palms embarrass him. As his shoulder lifted so did his arm. With an elbow out and arm slanted high, the stun shot right into the laser sword’s blade. A singe crackled over him as he smirked.

“Aha!” Zap!

“Frag!” The next shot got him in his exposed right side.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

4 year ago..


Bridges draped the green cities. Clouds smudged the blue of the sky. The planet was lush. The natives were blessed. Neimoidia’s people dressed in robes flowing to their feet. They looked like they floated across the ground. Sparkling buildings stood on the green hills, windows wide open and rooms filled with valuables. Rich in resources, shipments commonly blew in from space. Landing docks sprawled throughout the city as shuttles swarmed the heavens.

The people seem festive.

A chortle filled the streets along with garbled slang, chatters and grumbles in market squares. Banks awaited withdrawals. House windows watched as their rich owners filled them with stress or jolly. It was rarely jolly, though. Those in the middle lived the high life. They enjoyed their riches. They enthralled the relief of cool air and bathed in the sun’s beauty. In the middle, in the market square, is what Sirdi met the girl.

Out in the fields, big kinky curls rolled in grass. It was the girl. She was sun kissed but the color of sand. Her smile was wide and her eyes small; face shaped like a diamond with cheeks high and round. It was as if a Twi’lek model had been turned to human by magic. Laughter echoed in the open fields near the park. No one was near beside one. And, he – well, Sirdi was too close.

Sat atop her, his weight kept her down. Tears formed in her eyes as she continued to laugh. His fingers trailed her sides and arm pits as she wiggled and giggled. Snorts interrupted some of her chuckles as she swung and slapped as best she could.

“St—st—stop!!” She pushed at him but he only got closer. “My sides,” she laughed more. “My sides are hur—“

He kissed her.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

The remote swayed right. Sirdi pivoted. Sweat stained his back. The shirt sticked to him. He blinked quickly. The ceiling light flickered. Tomorrow he'd shop for a new bulb. Tonight he snarled. The remote spat another stun. It missed. His pivot saved him.

Once more the remote moved. It circled him. He twisted. His stance opened. The feet went wide and his knees were shoulder length apart. If the light saber wasnt lit in his hand, he could be confused for an offensive player in smashball. Sirdi looked ready to pounce. But, when the remote went back around him again his body didn't move.

However, his eyes did.

Those dark eyes followed the stun shooter all the way to the corners of his gaze. His teeth grind against each other as he gripped the hilt with one gloved palm. Hunched down, he was alert.

In a jolt the stun zapped out and he double fist-ed the saber's grip. Held behind his back, he caught the spark in the bright blade pointed vertically. Posed like contortionist, his back arched forth and his legs propped him up on his tippy-toes as he curved his whole body.

"Back"

He spun about, tossing the hilt between hands. Bent like a raging bull, his eyes were wide. And, he wore a big grin. Finally, it was starting to become fun.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

6 years ago

The Corellian Engineering Corporation, often abbreviated as CEC, was one of the three largest starship manufacturers. After the Republic fell, it continued to thrive with civilian sales as well as Imperial contracts. Both the Galactic Empire of old and Alliance to Restore the Republic forged unions with the neutral C.E.C and profits were made. In the Bright Jewel Cluster's prized orb Ord Mantell, Corellian ships dotted the skies and scorched the sector with their flaring engines. Transports gathered cargo of man or resources from the Ord Mantell's two large moons and throughout the cluster. Amidst the urban sprawl where buildings caste shadows on wayfarers and spacers alike nestled spaceports for the light-speed jumpers.

Pink clouds watched from above as droids bartered as translators between bulbous eyed offworlders and tendril armed blue fleshed giants who demanded lower prices on their fruits. Sells flourished here in this land because all the natural resources. Shops set up around the spaceports to capitalize on the tourist. Everyone who lived in Worlport avoided the shop keepers.

The bustle was eternal. Even in the late afternoon. The two moons peaked above the the horizon. Underneath the sun tired of gazing at Worlport's people and began to retire to another part of the world. A cool swept over from the north. Beyond the Lady Fate Casino, swiping pass the Hotel Grand and Government House and onto the spaceport, the breeze kissed a Devarion woman's cheek. She was fur-less. Two circles where horns would flare spotted her forehead. A light red tinged her skin like ember and her eyes were orange. Age had not yet wrinkled her face but bags sat under her eyes. Tight pants and a sleeveless jacket adorn her as a blaster dangled in a holster at the loose belt strap at her wide hips. Her arms were big, even for a Devaronian. The triceps bulged in her undershirt while she stretched them to the sky at the door of the spaceport. A yawn pushed tears to her closed eyes as she relaxed.

"Lets go," she groaned and stepped in the spaceport. Behind her was a young Sirdi. His cheeks were big and he was lean and short. He carried a backpack. Inside the bag clunk ship tools. He gripped the pack straps and gathered his steps in a hurry.

"Get beside me. Get off my back, kid!"

Sirdi didn't say anything, just smiled and moved to her side. He knew she just lost at the casino and was enjoying her attitude. He'd warn her over and over not to mess with the place; she never listened.

"Now, when we get to that Dock stay with your mouth shut - We got business to do, alright? None of that back ta--"

Sirdi cut her off by walking ahead of her, his back to her. He turned over his shoulder with a cheeky smile, "Ya mean sum'n lik dis?"

[Sirdi Kōhō]

The drone hung in front the initiate's leer. It skid back and forth. The remote was programmed to keep him off-balance. It gave off a dulling buzz melody while moving; an unwanted and smooth refrain to the feverish crackle of Sirdi's training saber. The saber swayed with the remote. Out the window's blinds sat Ossus moon. It was starting it's descent. In the dorm's corner wall beamed a night light. The glare wasn't enough to match the stinging blaster bolts or the saber's flare. Yet, the restrained radiance kept the room alive and warm. The lack of air conditioning made the room hot. More sweat beads trickled down the back of Sirdi's neck. Even his legs were moist. They were stretched like he was prepped to pounce. In his right hand he loosen his grip.

In a snap of the wrist he reversed grip the saber like one would hold an ice pick or dagger. There wasn't enough for two breaths after his grip change before the remote back on the offensive. Once more, he lifted his shoulder. His blade crackled with purpose as it met another blast. Before he could regain composure, most shots came as the drone danced from left to right.

Eyes closed, Sirdi pivot one foot. The blast zap the carpet between his spread legs. Then, he rotated on his back foot sweeping the saber like a rake to catch another charge aimed at his waist. He continued to rotate into a 360, dodging in fluid motion another barrage before returning to his first blocking pose with the reverse gripped saber hiding his face. The last of the stinging lasers was held at bay with Sirdi's amused smirk.

"Whatcha got," he teased.

The lifeless drone shot more. Three at his upper body and two at his lower. Sirdi handled the first set of the barrage with a bend at the waist to the side. His blade shifted slightly to catch the last shot that was off-center. Then once more, he nearly swept the ground with a raking motion of the blade as he cartwheeled out of the way of the lower body zaps and fell into a crouch onto his bed.

"And legs."

[Sirdi Kōhō]

6 years ago

The Consular-class space cruiser was 115 meters long, black and 8 meters off the ground. The Dyne atomizer engines were ablaze. The cruiser’s sublight engines were extended from the main hull. A lean design, the ship was originally built for diplomatic transports to troubled spots. Over the eras, seedy spacers retrofitted the Corellian cruiser design for smuggling. Others in times of war saw fit to arm the vessel for war. This specific ships history was as dynamic as the design itself. Previous owners ornamented the transport with laser cannons and interior decorated compartments for cargo storage. One proprietor was a pirate and constructed weaponry within the upper deck and salon pad.

When Sector Oober claimed the vessel much of the aforementioned was done away with. The cannons were removed. All external and obvious remnants were detached. Everything else was cleaned, polished and refitted. Everything was new. Even the engines were fresh off the line. And, its croon wept for the sky. Dust blew. Dock droids finger a countdown. The dock doors were slid open above the ship. The ship’s armor fit to gleam as the sun set. By day the clouds were pink and overlooked the docks. By night they were lilac and awaited the cruiser. Soon, the ship would be amongst the purple sky. Yet, first the captain would have to prep the passengers.

“Ladies and gentleman and all inbetween, I’d like to direct your attention to the monitors. We will be showing our safety demonstration and would like the new few minutes of your complete attention,” the Devarion women’s raspy voice strained for a polished professional tone.

“When the seat belt sign illuminates, you must fasten your belt. Insert the metal fittings into the other, and tighten by pulling the loose end of the strap. To release your seat belt, lift the upper portion of the buckle. We suggest that you keep your seat belt fastened throughout the flight, as we will experience turbulence leaving the atmosphere.

There are several emergency exits on this space craft leading to the escape pods. Please take a few moments now to locate your nearest exit. In some cases, your nearest exit may be behind you. If we need to evacuate the aircraft, floor-level lighting will guide you toward the exit. Doors can be opened by moving the handle in the direction of the arrow. Each door drops into the escape pod lift and used to fasten you in.

Oxygen and air pressure are always being monitored. In the event of a decompression, a mask will automatically appear in front of you. To start the flow of breathable air, pull the mask toward you. Place it firmly over your breathing orifices…,” the crew staff demonstrated with their own mask. “If you are traveling with a child or someone who requires assistance, secure your mask on first before assisting another. Keep your mask on until a uniformed crew member advises you to remove it.”

The Devarion moved the intercom link from her mouth and cleared her throat. Behind her in the co-pilot chair scuffed the young Sirdi, “Psst, I aint gunna be helpin’ em a bit.”

“No one asked you, bub.” She returned the link to her lips and continued. “In the event of an emergency, please assume the bracing position.” She paused for a second, as she mouthed bracing position once more with a smile before returning to the speech. “Ya know, when you lean forward with your hands on top of your head and your elbows against your thighs.”

“Very professional, Marika” Sirdi teased.

“Please buckle your seats for take-off,” Marika spoke into the comm., with her eyeing Sirdi with distaste. His chuckled waned as the intercom link cut.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

Modulation replaced the captain quarters with more seating. At least 30 passengers were on board for the flight. All of the students were company kids. Each was a privilege tadpole scrounging from their father or mother’s teat through their teenybopper years into their late 20s. All the saplings weren’t urchins. A few sat idle in their seats doodling on their pads or thumbing readings; polite and keeping to themselves. Others babbled about their big plans with partners about their return to the academy & personal projects. However, most gurgled drinks, garbled words and groaned at the staff for more. Whether the more was food, drinks, holodisc movies, games or droid massages it didn’t matter. It was without fail a barking command with attitude. The attendants hid their scowls wisely. Some of the passengers wandered off through the quarter’s upper deck room. Before long they were quickly returned to their seats. Their steps wavered; they couldn’t handle their drinks well. It seemed the affairs would never end:

The destination was Zeltros.

Above the seating and on top the panel sat the navigation station. Marika could hear the grumbles. She didn’t mind as her windows revealed space and its jewels. Those stars – they stared back at her with wonder. Her people’s men were known to wander. She was often chastised by the other girls back in Montellian Serat about being a tomboy. Her mother had two children by her age; she couldn’t be bothered. She was more intrigued by nav-boards and setting hyperspace coordinates blindfolded. Without a glance at the keys, she had set course for the Inner Rim via Hydian Way. A few jumps through the sectors and they’d be on their way in no time.

In the meantime she had plans her own personal staff. “Sirdi, get your rear down their already. We got a job to do.”

He rolled his eyes.

She didn’t even care to look back over her seat at him. So, he took the opportunity to mock her with a stern expression and exaggerated mouthing of orders. He balled a fist and jumped from his seat, snarling at the back of Marika’s chair. “Yes, madam,” he scoffed. On an about turn on his heel, he high stepped and trotted out of the chambers and down the hall. He could almost hear her rolling her eyes in the chair behind him as he went down the step ladder into the pit of hell called the seating cabin.

Half of the fare was asleep. Not much more than two hours had passed since lift off, but this was nearing Ord Mantell’s standard nightfall. A silly grin swept across his face as he watched them snore. He slithered down the isle, eyeing the few awake. None looked back. They were too busy. Music players were lodged in their skulls thru their ears or their eyes were fixed on some sort of entertainment or game in front of them. Yet, he could see their gaze was wavering and lids growing heavy.

He continued down the isle’s walkway to the Falleen flight attendant beyond the isle’s curtains. She poured more drinks. Her back was to him. He could see all the ripples in her spine. They were striking. She did not miss a beat as she whispered, “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry Sirdi I’m mixing the sleepers in.”

“Nah – I did'n come ‘er fa all dat. I’m trynna find where dey put dey goods.”

“Compartments. By their le—“ A loud snore interrupted her.

“By wha?”

“ Their legs.”

[Sirdi Kōhō]

For two weeks the ex-freight hand deflected shots. Every other night Sirdi upped the ante. A remote drone could do more than sting. Remote bots had lethal shots too. Still, suicide was not on the initiate’s priority list. If the stun shots hit they’d only welt, bruise or bleed his skin but not kill. The power levels were never raised any higher. He knew better.

In the two weeks of practice he never bled. He never bruised. And, he never felt the swelling of a welt. However, he did ache. His joint muscles pulsated. Throbs swelled at his shoulders. Knee pains tormented his guard stance. Whether excitement or tenderness, his legs quivered every practice. Heavy arms plagued each parry. Sweat made him a sticky mess. And, worse of all, his stomach grumbled.

Daylight bore through the window’s blinds. On the dresser sat a clock. It read 15:50. For the sanctuary’s mess hall this meant lunchtime. For Sirdi, this meant almost getting a welt. While he eyed the time, a blast zipped by his head. The shot whizzed into the wall. Before he could think, he spun about on his back leg. The next incoming shot was batted away with a reverse-gripped swing. Habit made his reverse-grip his go-to hold.

More blast came.

He dodged.

Sirdi hopped on his bed. The bed springs shrilled. The echo bounced of the wall. In the hall footsteps followed. The mid day rush was on. Sirdi was going to miss the grub if he didn’t hurry. But, he couldn’t split his focus. As the scuttle growled through the dorm, he bobbled the hilt between reverse and orthodox grips idly. The drone wrapped around his head to feign a shot. Sirdi’s eyes didn’t follow. Instead, he darted to the side. Angles were important.

When the next beams blitz barrage came, he moved and blocked in a dance. Three orange rays singed in his blade as the others missed him entirely with a quick evasion. When the last dodge sent him off the bed, he braced himself with a crouching land. The remote drone powered down. And, so did the training saber. Sirdi sighed.

“Finally,” his belly groaned. “Food.”

His dorm door sled open with a buzz. Not a second later, Sirdi sped out into the halls, scampering behind the crowd.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

The nerfburger bounced as the plate dropped on the mess hall table. Hubba chips were set nearby. The blumfruit juice sweetness was still stuck to inside of Sirdi's cheeks. He snapped another bite off his churro. He slammed his drink down with a smile. It was rare the chefs got such a good shipment.

A couple months had passed since he ate a hefty meal. Before the base reassignment, he was working the grill. The suppers were large and breakfast full.

Rations could keep soldiers going. Soup slop could fill an orphans mouth just fine. But, for a former Rebel chef? It was an abomination. He adjusted. He always did. He never heard the other Jedi complain. How could he? Instead, he just packed seasoning. It helped..a bit. Still, anytime walked the lunch food line, training saber at waist - just dangling on a string - he looked slightly disappointed at what the menu read.

But not today.

"Ah, da good life," he stuffed a mouthful of burger in his sarlaac pit with no regard. No one looked over. They were too preoccupied doing the same. Every pie stuff with goodness or pressed into a smile.

[Wei Wu Wei]

"So, how's that lightsaber training going for you, Sirdi?" Asked a calm voice.

Wei Wu Wei, Jedi Knight, sat down across from the young man. It wasn't in his nature to start straight off with a question, much less a question meant to surprise someone, but just this once the Force Cripple couldn't help himself.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

"Rrrrrmmmm gmmm."

No matter how cutting his words they wouldn't tear through the mushed burger mouth. His eyebrows were high. His eyes were wide. He was eager. He restrained a grin as he realized.

After a forced swallow, he smiled and tried again. "I mean, really good. I got a sum stuff down ya kno'?

Sum stuff.." His eyes trailed to the meal. There wasn't a lot he didn't get - all those names, form styles. It was a bit weird.

[Hobgoblin]

The funny thing about Hobgoblin (or rather, one of the funny things) was his propensity to turn up unnanounced in an otherwise quiet setting and stir up commotion. If asked about it, Hob would argue that he was not disturbing the peace so much as he was creating flash-events that the community could join in with.

The flash-events he was most known for creating were food fights, and despite Hob's wishful thinking, not all of them were as popular as he might like to believe. Whether the goblin would let public opinion deter him from an otherwise harmless activity was a separate question, the answer to which was: no, he definitely wouldn't.

"Greetings Master Wei!" Hob said cheerfully, plopping his small frame onto the next chair down. "How are you this fine day?"

Before him on the table he'd set an entire rhuberry pie still in the pie pan, red filling oozing from between the lattice crust. What was perhaps of greater interest was what was missing: eating utensils, a plate, or any kind of drink to wash the dessert down with.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

Their little green big eared visitor had a reputation. Sirdi had only lived the Ossus life for a couple months. The place was strange. Far from the extravagant beauties of pink heavens on Ord Mantell & Coruscant’s bright less, it took some getting used to for a ship hand. The others made the process easier. Most were hospitable. Many were conversational. All were revealing; he learned a lot. Whether it was tricks of the trade or ancient sayings, he was introduced to an odd world thought by most decease. The oddest myth were some of the locals. Plenty survived amidst The Great Empire’s onslaught against their order. But, none of the tales were anymore eccentric than those about the Hob. Rumors spreads through the Sanctuary of his origins. Often they surmised he arrived from nowhere; he kept popping up.

Some of the more curious chatter surrounded his absurd food fights. Some of the younger mess hall drifters licked their chops at the proposition. Any chance to let their head down was fun. The lulling jingles of the jukebox went well with the fights. Jizz-wail jammed as food stuffed their throat. Amidst the chomping and slurps, few noted the cane-wielding pest wobble in.

His voice resonated with Sirdi, though.

Sirdi never had seen the man. Yet, it didn’t take a science to read the goblin’s madness. As Sirdi turned his head to the voice’s source, he took in the pie with wide eyes. Fright pull ajar his mouth and his defenses raised as he leaned aback. Without a blink, he switched his big stare to Wei.

Nerves allowed him only an, “uhh…” as his lips mangled into a grimace.

[Wei Wu Wei]

"Master Hob!"

Wei had no troubles whatsoever with the being, or his flash-events. However, it seemed it might be better to cut this one off at the pass.

"We were about to discuss lightsaber practice. I see you're about to practice eating that pie for the contest the Council will be holding next month. SHall I help tie your hands behind your back so won't be tempted to use them?"

The Force Cripple smiled at Sirdi and winked.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

When Master Wei's eyes cut Sirdi's direction, the initiate was gone. Hunched over, he crept slowly away. The hubba chip bowl was cupped in one hand, holding the last bits of a churro and parts of the burger sat in the clutches of his jaw while the remains were in his other hand. There was no way he'd get caught in the middle of this hysteria. While the rest of the mess hall chattered, grabbed their drinks, he tried to make his way to the door. Hopefully he'd make it out in time.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei gestured for Hob to follow, then stood and caught up to Sirdi easily.

"Are you ok? Did Master Hob or I offend you?" the Force Cripple asked with concern.

It had crossed his mind that Sirdi could potentially have some sort of anxiety disorder, but didn't want to assume. Reacting out of fear and anxiety was not Jedi behaviour. Granted, Sirdi had not been a Padawan long, and had several years of habit to overcome at that. Then again, Wei had the patience to bear it out.

"If you need to leave the mess hall, or if we make you uncomfortable, then that's ok. You can say so. But bolting out the door when you think we're not looking is not ok. Jedi work through things. I expect you to behave like a Jedi and be frank about when you have a problem."

[Sirdi Kōhō]

"Food."

Sirdi grabbed, bit and gulped the last of his churro. He edged through the group to the door. "I like it," he garbled through a last swallow. "And he," Sirdi nodded back at the small fry hanging behind Wei.

"He has uh...reputation." Sirdi eyebrows rose at that. Most knew of the trouble Hob could get into.

[Hobgoblin]

Taking your eyes off a being with the reputation of a trickster was an ill-advised move. In the space of Sirdi and Wei's departure from the table, Hob had gone from beaming brightly at Wei's reply to gone from his seat.

The pie, however, had not disappeared.

Knowing its time had finally come, the pie chose this moment to defy gravity like it had practiced. Hovering about a foot above the table, it tore itself in half. A light spray of rhuberry sauce showered the area as the pie halves flung themselves at a pair of victims on opposite sides of the room.

Thanks to the pie's superior preparation, even the victims' Force sensitivities weren't enough to let them avoid a dessert-to-the-face attack. The two initiates stood, wiping crust and berries from their eyes in hopes of spotting the perpetrator.

"He's over there," someone else said, pointing at a pair of green ears poking just above the surface of one of the empty lunch tables.

"Boo!" somebody hollered. "Boooooo!"

"Let's get him!" yelled another voice.

A carton of milk flew beneath the table, prompting the ears' owner to hop atop it. The milk carton was joined by several other pieces of food, flying through the air in retribution for the goblin's supposed hand in the assault-by-pie. They did not, however, achieve their goal.

Hob's tri-clawed hand plucked his walking stick from his belt loop and deftly engaged the oncoming food assault. He swatted down or deflected away the horde of edible projectiles, even managing to spear a particularly large blumfruit with the walking stick's pointed end.

It didn't take long before the initiates who sacrificed their lunches to the cause ran out of ammunition. When the assault had ended, a fairly large mess covered the tabletop and the nearby floor. Hob, however, stood untouched atop the table, his precise and measured defense having achieved victory against the superior odds.

The goblin did a quick two-step dance, flung his arms wide, and grinned. "Ta-DAAAA!"

It was at that moment, at the apex of the goblin's victory, that a large H'nemthe yam flew from nowhere and struck Hob squarely in the nose.

The throw's force took the goblin off his feet. Spiraling through the air as gracefully as a yam-struck goblin could, Hob landed back-to-the-ground and skidded to a stop not far from Sirdi and Wei.

Hob blinked in surprise, sat up, and gazed at the cafeteria. A large glob of yam fell from his nose to splat on the floor.

The lunchroom burst into laughter and giggles at the goblin's comeuppance. Hob himself chortled delightedly; it had been some time since his last food fight and no one had broken his guard then.

Eyeing the mess of food that marked the site of his epic defense, the goblin politely asked if it would dispose of itself. The food obliged, bits of sandwich and vegetable wafting gently through the air and falling into the nearest waste bin.

His work done, Hob turned to Sirdi and Wei. "Good fun, that was!" he beamed through a still yam-caked face.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei looked at Hob and smiled patiently. "And again, a group of hungry, bleary-eyed Padawans miss a perfect opportunity to practice the Jedi tenant, 'There is no passion: there is serenity.' Oh well."

The Jedi Knight gestured to the open fields. "Now, we were originally discussing your progress in lightsaber training. Come, and we'll assess your progress and give you some pointers. Master Hob, will you be joining us?"

Hob's reputation as a trickster was well-earned. If that tendency carried over into lightsaber combat, it would prove a valuable experience to the former freighter worker.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

Sirdi watched and laughed apart of the choir of onlookers as the yam splattered across Hob's face. The green fellows skid and smile was charming. Although the small fry green guy had a dastardly rep, it was clear he wasn't malicious. Under the wrinkles of skin belied a fun-loving stranger, and Sirdi wasn't one to bare much contempt - despite his rough voice. "Awl dat was a bit funnee.."

A hand slid back in his pocket and he turned about heading out the door. "Ay, Master Wei - rih? Tha' how ya say it - well, where we gunna go to do this anyway?"

[Wei Wu Wei]

"Where we have room to move and peace to be still. We need a safe place to practice, but Lightsaber Combat for a Jedi is just as much about state of mind as it is technique. I'm sure you're aware of the Jedi Code--or at least the first line. There is no emotion: there is peace. We're going to practice that today alongside your technique and see how well it improves your capabilities."

Just outside the small compound were grassy areas for kilometers, dotted here and there with trees.

"When you're ready, activate your lightsaber and hold a ready stance."

[Sirdi Kōhō]

"Here, eh?"

The grass crunched under his feet as he stepped out. At his waist dangled the hilt from his belt on a string like an ornament. Not too long ago, he could say he had never seen such a thing. Now, after nights stuck in the dorms, it was practically another limb. Or, so it seemed. His stanced went wide. His knees parted shoulder length and bent only a tad. One hand released the string from his belt and the other twirled the hilt into a firm reverse grip at his side. Once more, he held it like a dagger.

"Ok den," the familiar hum mused from the handle as the synthetic crystals came alive in a focused beaming blade. "Ready..."

[Wei Wu Wei]

"Ok. Your stance looks good. But remember, physical posture and technique can only take a Jedi so far. The mental state of peace that all Jedi should strive for and maintain is critical to unlocking their fullest potential. The Force is not a tool: it is our ally, and will aid us with great strength if we can make ourselves open to it. It's why the Jedi Code begins with 'There is no emotion; there is peace."

Wei stood across from Sirdi, reached for his own saber, and assumed the Form I ready stance. In all, he looked much like Sirdi, except Wei held his lightsaber in the more traditional grip. "Jedi don't fight for revenge, or for enjoyment. They fight because they have to. Any combat is intense--it's easy to let your emotions run high, especially if you or someone you know is in danger of losing limb or life. That's when it's all the more important to stay calm. You should be the Eye of the Storm in any conflict. No matter what tumult is around you, you remain undisturbed. So to practice entering that mindset, I want you to stand here for a time. Breathe deep and slow. Listen to the hum of your lightsaber. When a thought enters your mind, recognize it, then put it away. Whatever it is you're thinking, it can wait until later."

As if to set the example, Wei took one large breath, released it slowly, and shut his eyes. The Force had already met him when Sirdi activated his weapon, and now that Wei could focus on it, he could feel the whole planet pulsing beneath him. His senses expanded into the ground and up into the atmosphere--and at the edge of that, the galaxy spinning through space, and all the power and life that it contained.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

Sirdi peered, raised his brow, nodded and blinked as Master Wei elaborated on the complexities of the Jedi Code. It all seemed quite strange to Sirdi. He understood the need for peace, but in the face of danger - in the face of possible death - it seemed foreign. But, he knew the concept. A calm was always necessary, or he'd have flown wayward a number of times in his spacer years. Even the basic shooting simulations run at some of the Rebel bases he once was stationed at required a semblance of tranquility to succeed. So, he grasped at that concept as Wei instructed.

He closed his eyes as the Master did, and let the air flow.

It went deep within his lungs as he raised his brows. He could hear the wind wisp by. He could hear the chatter off in the distance in the town. The hum of the saber whirl through his lobes. Yet, he felt little. Well, beside the sweat dribbling down his back, sticking his shirt to his body. There was a heat on Ossus he hadn't yet gotten comfortable with. It wasn't unbearable. It was unnerving.

"Soo..." Sirdi began, his eyes still closed. "Wha eggsactly am I s'pose to think?"

[Hobgoblin]

The yam-faced Hobgoblin quietly accompanied Sirdi and Wei to their practice session. Although Hob had trained long enough ago that he'd learned many forms of lightsaber combat from the Jedi Masters of the old Order, seeing how the new teachers taught was always of interest. There was usually a twist, a spin on the lessons that added something new. Hob loved to see those. Hob also loved to see the reactions of the students, even though they were the same too.

'Tell me what to do,' the refrain inevitably went. 'Tell me how to make sense of this. I don't understand.'

"What to think?" Hob interjected when Sirdi asked the question. "Tell you what to think, must Master Wei?"

The goblin paused, then suddenly turned his head and sneezed. A fair amount of yam splatted to the ground. Hob's brows furrowed, and the realization that his face was still covered in yam seemed to take hold.

The remaining yam floated gently off his face and coalesced into a single glob, floating above his tri-clawed hand. "Subservience, the Jedi way is?" Hob continued. "Submission? The following of orders, always? Doing and thinking always what you are told?"

The yam glob took several shapes; a spiked ball, a pyramid, even a cube formed from several cubes. "Who we are to be, the Force does not tell us. A guide, it is. Who you are, you must decide."

"So, Padawan," Hob said, discarding the yam glob to the ground with a smirk. "Choose what you think. If Hob's advice, you want, that is."

[Sirdi Kōhō]

The former Rebel mirrored the green imp's smirk. He got it. Also, the yams still on the small man's face was hilarious. It was hard withholding a laugh. Especially since the moment called for an air of seriousness. With a suck of his teeth, the Padawan returned to his thoughts. He blinked. He breathed. He drained the air through his nose. His chest lifted. His back straightened. His gripping hand's fingers thumbed the hilt. His fist clenched and relaxed. His stance stayed wide. His eyes closed.

Around him rustled the grass. Within him the air flowed. An ease came over his legs. A heavy bunch of food laid softly in his belly. The lunch was good. The heat wasn't so bad. He ignored the sweat trickling along his mid-back. Each inhale and exhale edged his senses further. He didn't think elsewhere; Ossus and life he led here was all he could think about - for now.

His eyes opened and mused "Ok.." He waited patiently for the next instruction, his grip loose on the saber's handle.

[Wei Wu Wei]

"Good. You're getting there. Now, as those thoughts enter your mind, acknowledge them, and let them go. Brush them aside. Give them no more attention than you might your own breath. Then, when you are empty, you'll find you're actually filled with the power of the Force."

Hob's advice was good. Wei was never the best at sensing the thoughts of others, but he could tell that Sirdi's mind was present. That was a good start for a Padawan. The moments passed. When Wei decided Sirdi was calm enough, the Jedi Knight flicked his wrist. The tip of the lightsaber blade snapped forward, giving the impression Wei might have been fishing, rather than practicing a strike.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

The clutch tightened. His lids lowered. More air swirled about his nostrils. His lungs filled. Through his body he felt a tingle. Warped and wrapped around him was a sensation; the Jedi would call it the Force, but he felt it like a touch, taste and smell. It was alive and there. His eyes stayed closed as he bathed in it's essence, reeked of its aroma, and sucked his teeth to savor it's nectar.

"Ok, lets go?" He opened a single eye, his mouth smeared with a smirk

[Hobgoblin]

"Yes! Go, we shall!" Hob remarked suddenly.

A quick succession of moments suddenly chained themselves together: a blade of dark green sprang from Hob's hand, a vicious rrraaaahhhhhh escaped his lips, and the small green being transformed into a set of flying robes lead by vicious pointed teeth.

The short saber swung at both Wei and Sirdi's weapons, battering at them with more flexibility than force. If all went as he thought it might, his surprise attack would lead to their surprise defense.

After all, the best learning came through doing.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei parried Hob's blade in a fluid motion that could have looked unintentional to the untrained eye. But rather than retaliate immediately, he stepped backwards and around Hob, to better position himself. Sirdi could have the first rejoinder. After all, this was mainly for his benefit. Besides, having an opportunity to observe how the Padawan reacted to someone like Hob would give him some wonderful insight into how Sirdi dealt with the unexpected.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

When the green dwarf soared, Sirdi flinched. The shock sent him aback. And, out the way of a swing; fight or flight instincts were here to save the day again. His heartbeat jumped, his hands gripped to his saber tighter and he bent his knees more. The orbs in his eye sockets grew wide and he glared. He crouched in a balanced stance with his back leg stretched and kept his distance. His off-hand was ahead, as he watched the Master's movements.

He wasn't sure what was next, but with each breath he tried to calm himself. He had to be ready. Sirdi wasn't skilled in attacking, but Form I was about defense. So, he'd play to his strengths - or, at the very least follow his training.

[Hobgoblin]

While the Ataru style Hob used now was skilled in handling large numbers of opponents, it generally fared poorly against only a few. Makashi, Djem So, or even Juyo would work better against Sirdi and Wei as a pair. Or at least, it would if Hob genuinely wanted to defeat them. This was training, so the goblin felt it only fair to limit himself by mismatching is style to the situation.

Regardless, unpredictability remained key to the Ataru style (and Hob himself!) and so he sought to strike in ways that would defeat their balance rather than their spirits.

After spinning his way through their guard the first time, Hob landed a short distance from the pair. With a spin, he turned and flung his lightsaber at Wei, then quickly leapt after it. The older Jedi easily deflected Hob's weapon right back at him. Catching it in midair, he flung the weapon at Sirdi the same way. If he was quick of mind, the younger Jedi could learn strong defensive basics just by watching the older Jedi's technique.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

The blade came flying at him before he could register the green master was returning his onslaught to him. Sirdi glanced Wei's defense beforehand, but he was still trying to regain his footing.

Balance was important at a time like this, but Sirdi was more apt to twist and turn. So, before he could lift his hilt for a block he let his right knee buckle. He fell back, nearly tumbling to the floor before bracing himself with a hand. Hob's saber swept over his falling body.

"Frell."

[Hobgoblin]

Hob landed a few feet in front of Wei and spun several steps sideways, beyond lightsaber reach. Ataru fightstyle handled lone opponents very well; the more creative the user, the better it handled them. Additional opponents in coordination with the first increased the difficulty.

Sirdi and Wei were not well-coordinated.

Hob's thrown lightsaber arrested itself in midflight, then spun back the other direction. Hob, who was again in the air, snatched up his weapon as it whiffed over Sirdi's prone form. Then, he used it to strike at his opponent once again, this time seeking to capitalize on his earlier success by battering Sirdi's weapon away.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

Before Sirdi could jump back to his feet Hob's blade came swirling back over his contorted body. He slurped at the air, trying to get a breath in to recharge his body. With a bolt of energy, he pushed off the ground with his hand. Thrown back to his feet, he buckled at the knees as he saw the charging green winkled imp flail at him once more. The onslaught was endless. Sirdi's reverse grip on his saber was loose. Too much of his attention was spent on his staying upright. All the throwing, jumping, and barrages of slashes were shifty; the patterns were different than the training exercises in his room.

So, when Hob swung Sirdi was busy gathering his steps. He backed away, lifting his blade haplessly lifting the light sword in front of him for a block. He held the saber up in a lunge step, powered by his back heel. Sirdi grit his teeth, fearing the worst was next - he was imbalanced and rushing every move so far. Somehow, someway, he would have to find a way to get on the offensive.

[Wei Wu Wei]

"Hold."

Wei stepped forward, palm out.

"Sirdi, I want to take this time to remind you to be patient. There is no passion; there is serenity. The Force seeks balance, but does not imbalance itself in the process. Seek to overcome your opponent, but do not allow yourself to be overcome in the process. I would like to teach you an element of Soresu. If you can master this concept, one day you will be invincible."

Wei stood by Sirdi and took up the beginning stance of Soresu: Low to the ground, presenting a narrow profile. Wei presented his left side toward Hob, with that leg and arm stretched towards the green being. His right hand held his saber over his head and angled down, pointing between the index and middle fingers of his left hand, which were shaped like a V.

"Normally you won't have an opportunity to set up in a classic opening stance like this," Wei said, but as you can see, my target zones are nearly covered up. Then..."

The Jedi Knight rose towards his opponent by pushing off with his right leg, stabbing along with the motion, then drawing the saber back in. "as I meet my opponent, I thrust forward with the intention of meeting the opposing attack--whether a blaster bolt or a saber, it makes no difference. I push the attack aside as I thrust, then bring my blade to point in the air, parallel to my center line. I keep my elbows in, then block by maneuvering with my wrists and elbows."

Wei showed the Padawan how to block the 5 target zones--head, right arm, left arm, then right leg, and finally the left leg. "By keeping the saber close, I never need to fear over-extending. I also force my opponent to close with me. Soresu is not just a mentality of blocking--it is about making the opponent fight on your terms. If they mean to overcome me, they must attack. If they do not care to bring the fight to me, then we do not fight and I still win. If they fight me, they waste their energy crashing against my defense until finally, then they are too tired to mount their own defense, I dispatch them at my leisure."

"When you spar, watch for an opening. If one presents itself, take it. If the opportunity does not bear fruit, you can recover quickly. Do you understand?"

[Sirdi Kōhō]

The Padawn watchful eye took in it all. When the word invincible was muttered out the Knight's mouth, Sirdi perred up. Soon, the swordsman displayed his skill. He taught and Sirdi made mental notes: the low stance, the sabers held close, the finger placement, raised blade, and the 5 zones from the basic from training.

These building blocks made it easy to mock, but hard to match. An exact copy of Wei's would require repetition. But, if he was going to make it his own, master the style, he'd have to spar - he'd have to fight. Experience was the best teacher.

Thus, as the Master Knight finished his lesson and Sirdi bent his knees. The sabers went high by his head. He opened his body but pointed the sword. His eyes focused on Hob.

"Ya. I think I got it"

[Hobgoblin]

The goblin's face creased in a beaming smile and his own eyes considered Sirdi in turn. The apprentice thought himself ready, or at least, was determined to prove it. "For what lies ahead, ready are you?"

The goblin's finger flicked lightsaber and his green blade became a darker shade of green. He tested it with a few swings against the ground; instead of cutting through the dirt, it bounced off as though solid.

Raising his arm as high as it would reach, he hurled the weapon to the ground, blade first, then stepped back and folded his hands together. The weapon ricocheted off the ground and into the air, whirling at his opponent as though wielded by a phantom of the goblin himself.

How Sirdi handled himself against a weapon with no opponent to defeat would show whether he'd learned anything from Wei's tutelage.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

When the Master imp slung his blade to the dirt, Sirdi'so brows narrowed. The grip on his hilt tightened. Only a ray of daylight could shine through the clasp. Sirdi's arms lowered but knees stayed bent. The beaming blade glimmered feverishly and diagonally in front him, prepared to deflect from the 5 points. The practice in his room would come in handy, for Soresu was about technique but more so a philosophy.

The Way of the Mynock was about resilience. One would must be the calm in the storm. The idea at the duelist core was defense was the best offense; Wei put it best, "make the opponent fight on your terms". So, when the Force allowed the saber to float at him with malice, he was focused.

The mantra of making the enemy fight on his terms echoed through the lull in his mind as his eyes' orbs were lit like a torch by the incoming green lasersword. His shoulders relaxed, elbows rose, knees bent to lunge him forward and hands gripped harder. He slashed down. The slash was like a swat to a fly. The incoming sabers was deflected to the side.

Then his eyes locked on the culprit, his body once more lined up and blade ready across his body to block anymore attempts.

[Wei Wu Wei]

"A good start. Remember to breathe. Elbows in. Waste no movement. Your eyes can deceive you: don't trust them. Remain empty, and the Force will fill your mind and guide your movements."

Wei wasn't sure why Hob's saber changed colors, or what the nimble trickster was trying to accomplish with the telekinetic act. So far though, Sirdi was managing the unusual strategy.

The Force Cripple kept his saber ignited and breathed deep, trusting the Force to guide Sirdi.

[Hobgoblin]

The floating lightsaber, now more practice baton than slice-and-dice weapon, swung at Sirdi several more times. With each swing, Sirdi blocked, and the saber would ricochet backwards until Hob's power ebbed away it's momentum. With each stop, it gathered strength until it had enough to hurl itself at Sirdi again. The swings took time, and at first, Hob used only a light touch of power on his weapon to bring it to a halt, giving the trainee plenty of opportunity to prepare for each coming strike.

The length did not last, however, and Hob began to bring the saber back against Sirdi faster and faster, pushing the return speed up in the hopes of gently pushing Sirdi's limits.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

The elbows were in, his breaths were even, his eyes were sharp and the hilt was wet with his grip's sweat. An ease kept his shoulders from tensing up as he raised them up and down. When the speed increased so did his swipes. Each of the phantom duelist's swings were swapped back or side stepped. Efficiency was key; he did not always have to excert effort to avoid a hit.

A simple move of the leg or slight crouch was enough to avoid a cut. He kept his maneuvers in an imaginary shoulder wide box. But, when he did bat the floating saber back and slow its momentum he would edge forward some.

Sirdi was bringing the fight closer to Hob.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei said nothing about Sirdi's progress, but he couldn't help smiling a little as the Padawan edged closer to his opponent. Hob might allow Sirdi to close the distance. He might not. In an open area, Hob had all the room in the world to do whatever he wanted. But Sirdi did have the right idea, and that was good.

[Hobgoblin]

Possessed of a greater urgency, the lightsaber began whirling through the air even faster than before, a miniature storm of green color battering against his opponent's blade. Before, the weapon attacked with a series of horizontal slashes and cuts; now, it flew in at a variety of angles, sometimes bouncing off the ground to attack upward, other times angling down from a position in the air. The weapon sought to dissuade his opponent from gaining ground using superior speed and dexterity.

However, despite Sirdi's advancement on his position, Hob did not move from where he stood.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

His impulse was to dodge the angled blows, but his mind said otherwise. He set up a barrier of blocks. His elbows shifted from up and down in unison, using his blade like a shield. When the floater saber intensified, and slung harder, Sirdi would use the momentum against it.

Horizontal side sweeps were met with evasive side steps and downward blade slams like bashing a roach, shifting the attack with ferocity. Still, his lunges forward after such responses were longer. He was cutting more distance, taking those moments as a chance to gain control.

When he got within two lunges of the great Hob, he slowed down to a stop. Sirdi stared through the blurring blaze of green floating slashes at the true assailant. He was waiting for a misstep or any movement to capitalize on. It was time to change this onslaught into a duel.

[Hobgoblin]

Sirdi certainly seemed to be picking up defensive basics quickly. Perhaps the strong, but not overwhelming pressure of lightsaber-on-lightsaber combat allowed him to more intuitively grasp how to defend against direct attacks.

Hob had much more than direct attacks in his arsenal, however.

The green lightsaber broke off attacking Sirdi's weapon directly and spun backwards just out of immediate striking distance. Free of any interference, it began to spin in place, faster and faster, until finally its tip dipped into the ground and kicked up a spray of rocks, dirt, and dust at the defensive encroacher.

And with as much ground as there was, the wielderless lightsaber had plenty of ammunition to keep its opponent busy for days.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

Dirt clogs and dust filled the air. Sirdi stood in front of it, blase in his hand. His mouth was agape. Under his breath he murmured a "What the frack". Just when he was primed for the attack, Hob throws dirt in his eyes. A snarl replaced the surprised on his face. His blade lifted and he grit his teeth weathering the storm of rocks with his burning blade barricade.

The next move on his mind was to simply escape. Fight or flight was kicking in. Hob was a Master. Rumor had it he was the geezer was so old he may have been the original Jedi. Still, the green gramps had enough sound to pull at all those years of experience that other old folk forgot. Sirdi respected that. So much that he'd rather give up instead of pull dirt out his teeth and rocks out his shoes for the next few hours.

Amidst the blast of debris, he yelled out, "The frell do I do about this? can I run now?"

[Hobgoblin]

Hob extended his hand towards the rocks and dust. Abruptly, everything paused in midair; each tiny pebble or particle suspended in perfect motionlessness.

Then they dropped to the ground, their potential energy lost to Hob's command of the Force.

At the same time, the spinning lightsaber pulled back from where it was spinning up debris and leapt towards its owner. Hob's tri-clawed hand snatched it from the air, drawing the blade into the duelist's salute frequently practiced by Form II experts. "Well you have done, for your first spar," he complimented Sirdi as he put his weapon away. "When in the Force, strong you become? Such small attacks will not bother you. For the Way of the Mynock is one of great endurance, and a true practitioner of its ways shrugs off such small encumbrances. TIf a master of such defense you become, become the shield on which your enemies break, you will."

Hob looked to Wei. "Anything to add, have you Master Wei?"

[Wei Wu Wei]

"When there's spray of dirt, a flash of sparks, or anything that disrupts your vision, just shut your eyes." Wei said. "Your eyes can deceive you. Don't trust them. Learn to rely on the Force. It is a Jedi's greatest ally. As you learn control, calm, and peace, the Force will give you more insight, more resilience, more energy to carry through."

"I know by now most Padawans know that lightsaber combat is pretty much all I'm capable of. But if I didn't have the calm and balance to trust the Force, I wouldn't even have that. So when you practice, go over the techniques slowly. Make sure you get them exactly right. Find the position for the perfect stance and hold it for an hour--or work up to it if you can't. Shut your eyes and focus on your breathing until everything is moved to the background. The Force will meet you in that moment, and you'll find you're more aware than you were before."

[Sirdi Kōhō]

All the talk of the Force weirded him out. Although he'd call on it before, putting a word to the talent still unnerved him. Especially, when the subject was light saber training. How could relying on magic help with swinging a blade? Sure, it was everywhere. And, sure, he was aware his intuitive response to the ways allowed him to block some of those saber swings, but it was strange.

"Sounds spooky, but ok." He mimicked Hob'so salute, turned it off, then lazily holstered his training light sword at his waist. "Anythang else I should get tuh knowin?"

[Wei Wu Wei]

"For now, I think you've got enough to work with. You're a good student, Sirdi. You show great promise. Of course, if at any point in the future you think you would like the extra practice, want to review, or have some questions answered, you know how to contact me."

Wei nodded to Hob. "Thanks for being here to help, Master Hob. If there's nothing else you think needs to be said, shall we call this session adjourned?"