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Amos Iakona
Jun 27th, 2016, 02:57:53 PM
A string of curses tumbled from Amos' lips as he felt the energy blast bite into his bare arm like an angry gnat, the violet blade of his lightsaber carving through the air about half a second too slow. He heard the subtle hiss of air as the training remote's thrusters shifted it's orientation; Amos had come to think of it as the device's equivalent of mocking laughter. They told him that he was improving, that his reaction times were far shorter than they had been when his training has first begun: but while half a second was better than a full second, late was still late. Another dart of energy lanced out and struck Amos' leg, as if trying to prove the point. Pit him against someone with a real blaster - or worse, someone with a lightsaber and deadly intent - and no amount of subtle improvement would be enough.

His brow deepened into a scowl, jaw clenching as he tried to focus. That was what the instructors always said. Clear your mind. Focus. Listen to the whispers of the Force. As if it was simple. Effortless. Maybe for them it was. Maybe there was something wrong with him, something inferior. After all, some Jedi were stronger than others, and some were weaker. He remembered a lesson from Master Aamoran about how initiates became padawans in the days of the old order; about how some didn't master the skills or the teachings quickly enough, and found themselves in the Service Corps when they came of age. They became healers. Educators. Explorers. Perhaps that was more his speed. Perhaps he was destined for lesser things. Perhaps even trying to become a Jedi Knight was -

Another wincing curse escaped as the remote fired again, striking him in the leg this time. Frustration lashed out, a snapping motion of his arm flinging out a shockwave through the Force. Most Jedi could use such things to push objects; for Amos it was more of a gentle nudge, but against the hovering remote it was enough to disrupt it's balance, and throw off it's aim. Immediately Amos launched himself into a dive, letting the Force help spring him into motion, dodging clear just in time to evade a needle of energy clashing into the stonework he had just been standing upon. The dive became a roll, and progressed into a crouch; the remote became more frantic, responding to each failure to strike a valid target by shortening the interval between each discharge. It was a mechanism designed to increase the difficulty the more adept a Padawan became; for Amos it felt more like the remote getting agitated, trying harder to hit him. It span, wobbling on it's repulsorlifts, struggling to track the target that insisted on remaining in motion. Amos dove again, a glancing blow stinging across a shoulder and bicep; what had begun as mere evasion rapidly transformed into a need for escape - or at least a need for something, some way to give up on this pointless exercise and spare himself further humiliation.

Amos' eyes searched, surveying his surroundings; instinct drew his eyes to an open storage container across the way. A few more barely successful evasions carried him closer, but not fast enough - the remote struck his calf, the zap of energy enough to make it spasm, and throw him into a tumble. Instinct took hold again, reaching for the container; the Force wrapped itself around the discarded lid, whipping it back towards where he had fallen. Grasping one of the handles, he planted it firmly against the ground, perpendicular to the stonework as a crude barrier between him and remote. He felt the vibrations of each impact, but the haphazard shield held firm; Amos found his feet, staying low and swift as he approached, tiny whiffs of heated plastisteel assaulting his nostrils as shot after shot continued to harass his defenses. Advancement became a charge, strides becoming longer; mustering the Force once again he thrust himself upwards, springing from the ground into the air, arm lashing out towards the remote with a satisfying and resounding thwack that sent the infuriating device tumbling and spiralling into the distance. As it stopped and sought him out again, Amos held out his lightsaber in plain view, killing the power to the blade - the remote's signal to stop firing.

"I hate those damned things," Amos muttered, offering the container lid a casual appraising glance before tossing it aside.

Jaxton Ravos
Jun 28th, 2016, 11:22:44 AM
Jaxton kept silent at the edge of the room as a man attempted, or failed rather, to deflect the remote shot. Another shot came, another hit to his flesh. A third, and finally the man decided to abandon the point of his training and get creative. It worked, for the most part, a touch of Force here for some redirection, letting it flow through him for a burst of energy that threw him into a dive. His movements were rushed, though fluid enough, changing forms as he continued to evade the remote's stinging bolt. It lasted only so long, as the remote sped it's targeting computer and rate of fire to adapt to a higher difficulty, eventually chipping him on his shoulder. With a quick survey of the training field the man rushed with newfound purpose, to try an reach a simple plasteel container. Hit in his legs midway he used the Force to compensate for his lack of reach, drawing the container's lid to him and using it to shield himself from the fire. A charge, a well placed hit, and finally a de-activated lightsaber signalling the end of his session.

"That's not how most choose to go through that exercise." Jaxton greeted the padawan as he came farther into the training room. "But I suppose when you're out there it's not about how you do it, but whether or not you make it." He said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "I'll tell you a secret, sometimes it's easier to do against a real person. They might have better skill and weaponry, but it's a lot easier to see when and where it's shooting at you as opposed to the remote's spherical body an multiple firing points. What they want you to do is sense it coming, rather than see it." Jaxton said, and tried to keep the tone of his voice encouraging, not trying to further frustrate the man.

Amos Iakona
Jun 28th, 2016, 09:42:23 PM
A small grunt escaped from Amos' throat, a mix of amusement and resignation. This was a basic exercise; one of the fundamentals that all Jedi needed to grasp; and one that completely eluded him, even after the several years he'd spent among the Jedi. Everyone had their own pearl of wisdom to offer. It was simple. Easy. Something that Younglings learned as soon as they could stand. All you had to do was trust in the Force, open yourself up to the possibilities, feel the rhythm of the universe around you - and other such things that were that infuriating kind of pretentiously vague.

Amos knew exactly why he struggled: he didn't believe. Reflexes faster than a blaster bolt? No matter how many other Jedi he saw demonstrate it, Amos could never believe that he would be capable of it himself. There was a reason that the Jedi Order of old began to train it's Knights as children: they wanted them to learn before life had the chance to squash their imagination and turn them cynical. Of course, in modern times the Jedi couldn't afford to be choosy: and so for every Jedi with natural talent or trained in secret, there was someone like Amos who blundered upon their potential later in life. He wasn't entirely inept: there were some aspects of the Jedi way that he had been able to wrap his mind around. But Amos was a soldier. Stormtrooper. SpecForce. Mandalorian. He'd spent too long learning to think a certain way; and perhaps he was just too old to change.

"If a real person was shooting at me," he countered with a shrug, carefully attaching his lightsaber back to hid belt, "I'd just draw a blaster and shoot back, not stand around trying to angle a glorified glowstick in the way."

Jaxton Ravos
Jul 1st, 2016, 09:58:42 AM
Glorified glowstick. What an interesting perspective. As though he'd never seen the Force before, still thought it a kooky religion for those old soldiers of the Clone Wars, addled by the terror of it into an unstable mind. Truth be told he couldn't blame the man. He was older, with a good long while of not being exposed to the Force, and believing in the 'natural' order of things. Jaxton would probably have been the same way, if he wasn't recovering from a spice addiction when he was brought into the Order.

"That's fair." Jaxton said, not bothering to challenge his assertion. He doubted he could say anything the man hadn't heard before. Instead he moved his right arm to get it out of the strap of his pack, and lowered it down with his left before unzipping it and reaching a hand inside.

"My name's Jaxton. Before I ended up here I played grav-ball. Traveled a lot." He said as he fumbled about, finally pulling out a small sphere made of leather, stitched together. It might have been white once, but now it was faded and worn, covered with patches of brown where the dirt had settled in. "Picked this up in a system where the sport of choice was called basesphere. A man would throw it at another, who'd try and hit it with a stick. If it was hit they could capture the bases, until it was caught by another player. Simple concept, except these guys could chuck this thing nearly a hundred and sixty five kilometers per hour." With a grin on his face he tossed the ball at the man, without any hint of such velocity.

"Betcha fifty credits you can't break 115."