Session export: The Academy - Chapter IV

Two slender feet planted themselves upon the dusty ground of the Arxian Colosseum. The right moved forward with its toes angled slightly inward, while the left remained orthogonal to the imaginary centerline projected outward from the Savran’s forward oriented gaze. Taking one slow, deep inhale, the Shani lowered their stance while holding their beskad parallel to the ground. Both hands gripped the weapon’s hilt, causing it to emit a monotonous hum when its lustrous beskar blade began to oscillate.

Poised like a coiled serpent ready to strike, Savran thrust their blade forward, pressing off of their back foot to shift their weight forward in concert with the beskad’s movement. Holding it with just their left hand now, the Shani quickly worked through the forms they had practiced a million times over, moving with tight footwork that was both graceful and brutally efficient. Each stroke of their blade demonstrated a level of competency with the sword seldom seen in a galaxy dominated by blasters and lightsabers. It was a skill that Savran had refined through consistent, focused practice and countless hours in the field. Yet, it still wasn’t enough. Not for them. Not when they knew that the galaxy was home to masters whose prowess with the blade made them look like a novice in comparison.

And so, they trained. Trained to better themselves, to distract themselves from the accursed memories of their past that hung in their mind like a miasma. Savi always knew they they would have to come to terms with their past eventually but they intended to do so when they were ready, on their own terms. The meddling of the Dogs of Mortis had rubbed dirt in wounds that were still raw more than two centuries later. If they thought they had seen the last of the Tekuani, they were sorely mistaken. The karking bastards needed to pay. They would pay, and they owed Savran a debt in blood.

-

As their thoughts continued to dwell on how they would exact their revenge, the Dark Side of the Force rewarded Savran with more energy, more speed … and more power. Cast into a caustic sea of anger, of rage, the Shani’s movements became less graceful and more aggressive. One could even say they had become animalistic–feral. They hadn’t noticed that a crowd was beginning to gather to watch them train, a mix of wonder and fear spreading amongst the onlookers as they watched the saffron-skinned femme move faster and faster. The impromptu demonstration rose to a violent crescendo that didn’t end until Savran finally noticed the presence of another in their proximity. Too close. They whirled around, their feathered mane flaring madly as they rose their blade to point at … a young woman.

A sharp inhale became the first of several calming breaths to follow. Savran returned to an upright, neutral posture while retracting their beskad and deactivating its vibration generator. Although their visage adopted to a more reserved expression, they regarded the Pantoran with a lowering gaze.

“What are you doing here?” they asked, though their tone made their question seem more like an accusation. “I could have injured you.”

Lost amidst the labyrinthine depths of her datapad, Arden meandered through the sprawling expanse of the training grounds. Her eyes, fixated on the electronic canvas of her notes, traced the illuminated pathways of knowledge. It was a tapestry of scholarly discourse and her own meticulous observations, woven together in a symphony of intellectual pursuit.

The digital screen revealed a trove of information, a gateway to a forgotten world that beckoned her curious soul. It was a recent archaeological dig, hidden in a remote corner of the galaxy, where her restless spirit had led her. Within the depths of that excavation site lay the remnants of a once-thriving civilization, its existence shrouded in the annals of history.

As Arden delved deeper into her notes, the scenes of the dig site came alive in her mind’s eye. The ruins sprawled across the landscape like a slumbering giant, bearing the weight of forgotten epochs. Each weathered stone and crumbling structure whispered stories of triumphs and tragedies, of lives lived and lost. It was a tableau of the rise and fall of empires, where the passing of time had etched its mark into the very fabric of existence.

In her tireless exploration, Arden had meticulously cataloged the fragments of the past. The inscriptions, once cryptic and indecipherable, yielded their secrets to her keen intellect. She unraveled the mysteries concealed within the decaying architecture, piecing together the puzzle of a civilization lost to the ravages of time.

But as her eyes lifted from the captivating glow of the datapad, they collided with the threatening sight of Savran’s spear. The clash of realities shattered the fragile bonds of her archaeological reverie, bringing her back to the present with a jarring force. Arden’s eyes widened, and the gears of her mind ground to a sudden halt. The world around her seemed to slow, each second elongated as she found herself staring down the menacing point of Savran’s weapon, its lethal gleam casting an ominous shadow over her face.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, half-hidden behind a veil of lazy indifference, Arden shifted her gaze from the spear to the figure who wielded it. An undercurrent of annoyance flickered across Arden’s features, though she swiftly suppressed it, molding her expression into a mask of composure. Her tone, laced with a hint of impatience, carried the weight of her exasperation. “But you didn’t, so you stopped me for… no reason, it would seem?” Her words, though curt, held a touch of brutal honesty.

Arden’s social skills, or rather the lack thereof, were no secret. Her brusque manner and impatience often set her apart, a jagged edge against the tapestry of polite society. It was within the realm of academia and the study of ancient artifacts that she truly found solace, surrounded by the quiet contemplation of the past. The trappings of social convention held little sway over her mind, which was consumed by the echoes of history.

Even as her gaze lingered upon Savran, a flicker of guilt danced within her. She never intended to be rude or dismissive, recognizing the desire for human connection and understanding that lurked beneath her prickly exterior. Yet, she struggled to navigate the complexities of social interaction, her mind preoccupied with the grand tapestry of the past rather than the subtleties of polite conversation.

With an inward sigh, Arden redirected her focus back to the sanctuary of her datapad, determined to salvage the remnants of her disrupted concentration.

Lips tattooed the color of obsidian pressed together tightly as the woman spoke. “Take a look around,” replied Savi, who raised their beskad again to gesture to the sprawling edifice that enclosed surrounded them. More than a dozen other warriors were gathered here, each toiling away to hone their skills in combat. Save for a few curious passersby, the colosseum’s viewing gallery was vacant due to the lack of an actual event.

“This isn’t a park or promenade for you to take a leisurely stroll, especially when you aren’t paying att–”

Savi cut their words short when a vinegary smell filled their nostrils. As if on instinct, they parted their lips with a long, forked tongue to sample the air between them. It was faint but there no doubt that this was the smell of guilt, conveyed to them by the Force. Perhaps, responding with aggression wasn’t the best way to handle this one. They hadn’t done anything other than be mildly annoying, after all.

When Savran looked the Pantoran over more closely this time, the weathered gray of an armory lightsaber caught their eye. It was standard issue weapon given to most Force users following the graduation from the Academy, which meant that this woman likely fell into one of three disciplines: Sith, Jedi, or Force Disciple. They felt a tinge of curiosity spawn in their mind.

“Well, since you’re here, you might as well put that saber to good use,” they said, taking a few steps backward. “Besides, you owe me for not accidentally taking your head off.”

The guards had incircled Race from all sides. Their commander strode confidently down the hallway to meet up with the would be infiltrator. Weapons were raised on the prisoner from all directions and Race knew better than to try to escape.

“You made it farther than last month but still you must agree that you can’t break into the Shadow Academy.”

“Look, if I didn’t have to announce what day i was performing this drill you wouldn’t know when to TRIPLE the guards.” the human captive said emphasizing his disadvantage.

“If you didn’t announce you were coming you would have more holes in you that Sullust.”

“Or I would be in your vault.” Race countered. Since the last attack on Arx these exercises had become pretty common place. Having to announce what day he was coming put him at a severe handicap and likely did nothing but provide the guard captain with a placebo boost on his ego. But, the pay was good and it allowed him a bit of a respite from the normal Inquistorius work.

Arden’s hand, holding her dataslate aloft, quickly fell slack, a dumbfounded look striking her face. Her eyes darted from Savran to the lightsaber at her side, a mixture of surprise and skepticism clouding her features. Were they serious? Did they really want a sparring match, right here and now? The absurdity of the situation hung in the air, and Arden couldn’t help but cock a single brow in response.

With a reluctant sigh, she slid her dataslate into a secure pocket, her focus shifting entirely to the imminent challenge before her. There was a flicker of determination in her magenta eyes as she reached for her lightsaber, her hand wrapping firmly around the hilt. As she ignited the blade, a soft yellow glow bathed her natural blue skin, casting an ethereal shimmer that seemed to dance in harmony with her resolve.

Arden gave the blade a few deft twirls, her movements fluid and practiced, a testament to her familiarity with the weapon. The classic opening stance of Form IV, Ataru, came naturally to her. Feet shoulder-width apart, her off-hand held outward as if inviting her adversary’s aggression, while her lightsaber angled down, parallel to her off-hand.

Unbeknownst to her opponent, Arden’s opening stance concealed a depth of strategy. It was a feint, a calculated move designed to keep her adversaries off-balance and vulnerable to her agile and unpredictable movements. She had honed her skills in combat, blending her innate speed and agility with the versatility of her lightsaber technique. It was a dance of deception, a performance that blurred the lines between illusion and reality.

As she assumed her opening stance, the air around Arden crackled with anticipation. The weight of the moment settled upon her shoulders, but she remained steadfast, her eyes locked onto her opponent. She was ready to face whatever challenge lay ahead, to push the boundaries of her own abilities, and to prove once again that beneath her seemingly brusque demeanor and unorthodox approach, there lay a formidable warrior with the heart of a rebel.

(Meanwhile…)

Well, here she was, back in the halls again. How long had it been? Four years? No, five now. The couple of changes in headmaster had clearly led to some redecorating, here and there, but it was still the same Shadow Academy. While that was true, it would hopefully work just as well for her new little friend as it had for herself.

Eilen had definitely looked better. She’d gotten a little unkempt over the months on Ol'Val’s salvage jobs, and while she’d grown more accustomed to her sticker-bombed space rig than her pilot’s suit lately, it certainly wasn’t as sleek. One might even say she was starting to match the shoddy droid at her tail. But she hadn’t come to make an impression; she’d landed a shuttle, not raced in with her starfighter, to make space for the kid that had had been crashing at her small place on Ol'Val for a week.

Now that they were actually inside the intimidating spaced-pyramid structure and experiencing the Shadow Academy proper, Eilen turned to Ro'ki with a light, crooked grin. “See? Told you it was less creepy inside! Kind of a, uh, running theme with places on Arx, as far as I’ve seen, heheh…” Her fingers pattered against the metals of her salvage suit in a moment of buzzing thought. “…So! You wanna hop right to finding books and stuff, or check out the sights? There’s some good ones, higher up - the connective bridges, the combat center, master archives–” She tapped a finger for each as she went. “–Uh, though, we wouldn’t be allowed in the last one, eheh…”

Although their mask of casual indifference offered no insight into the true sentiments hidden just beneath its surface, Savran felt a tinge of pride when the Pantoran woman resolved herself to accept their challenge. The electronic hum of their saber’s blade was a sound that still conveyed a clear message of power even to the ears of someone who hadn’t ignited their own in more than two centuries. Arden’s look of fierce determination reminded Savi of a younger version of themselves. Did she fight as hard as she did, as well? There was only one way to find out.

Savran dropped into a stance of their own, the same stance they’d assumed earlier to initiate their practice. Then, they sprang forward, the hard soles of their slender boots digging into the dusty ground to propel them like a varactyl in full sprint. Few details escaped the Shani’s scrutinizing gaze, especially in combat. As such, they familiarity with the various forms of lightsaber combat allowed them to see through Arden’s ruse with ease, prompting them to deliver a single thrust of their beskad toward the Pantoran’s center of mass with the goal of shattering her facade in one brutally efficient strike.

However, what Arden would realize is that should Savi’s strike break through her defenses, that no injury would follow. The Shani was pulling their strikes, allowing the blade to come just close enough to let their opponent know what could have been. Savi had no training weapons of their own, only weapons of war, so that would have to do.

It was undoubtedly worlds away from what he had been used to back on Corellia. He hadn’t had the time yet to get used to Ol'Val, staying with Eilen as he was; now, he was thrust into a whole other thing altogether. The Shadow Academy campus. Books did not interest him much, exploring the incredible grounds on the other paw. His dark eyes wandered the space while he semi-listened to what Eilen told him.

Next to the hybrid, he looked positively done up with his dyed head fur and casual trousers and shirt, even if slightly dishevelled. All new, having decided it would be best to not embarrass his new friend by walking through campus in the outfit she met him in. The Selonian waved and grinned, “Sights, of course!” He had little interest in books. “You used to come here, then?” he asked curiously.

“Yeah!” Eilen’s tail flicked up with the briefest hint of pride as she led them forward. “Not exactly an alumni or anything - no fancy degrees, eheh, but… it was my first chance to ever be a real student, instead of learning on my own. I had to give it a try. And I learned some cool stuff, while I was at it!”

They neared a passage that Eilen turned them toward. “Um, anyway! The combat center’s pretty close by. That’s a super cool sight we can start with! It’s just this way, a bit of a walk.”

Ro'ki nodded. His teachers hadn’t much liked him, something about being a distraction and would he just bloody sit still?! “Too much sitting still if you were to ask me… Not enough… doing stuff. Talk talk talk but they’ll never just let you do, you know?” He pulled a face, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes. “Just give me the hydro spanner already, right?”

The Selonian shrugged some, and swishing his tail fell back in step with the much taller Eilen. “Could just be me, of course.”

Arden, confident in her feint, smoothly transitioned into her proficient Djem So stance, poised to deliver a decisive strike. Yet, as she angled back her blade, a flicker of surprise danced across her face. Her opponent had seen through her deception, their keen eyes piercing the veil of her bluff. Without hesitation, they pressed forward, launching a counterattack that pierced through her open defenses.

In that split second, Arden realized the gravity of the situation. Her opponent’s strike, though stopping just short of a lethal blow, served as a stark reminder of the consequences that awaited her in the field. Stepping back, her mind raced to recalibrate her strategy, to brace herself for a more serious fight than she had anticipated.

Deep within her being, Arden delved into the wellspring of her power, drawing upon the swirling currents of anger that had become an inseparable part of her. It was a delicate dance, navigating the fine line between harnessing that anger and succumbing to its blinding fury. But she had learned to tread the path with measured steps, tapping into its full potential while retaining control.

A surge of strength surged through the pantoran disciple, like a wildfire unleashed. With a flick of her hand, she channeled the Force, aiming to disrupt Savran’s balance by yanking at their legs, throwing off their footing and staggering their stance. Almost seamlessly, Arden followed up with a quick and precise slash aimed at her opponent’s core, an attack fueled by her connection to the Force.

Walking the path of controlled anger, Arden possessed the ability to modulate her strikes, restraining the blow before it reached its full lethality should it find its mark. It was a display of discipline and restraint, a testament to her mastery of the Force and her determination to navigate the complexities of combat without losing herself in the fury that surged within.

Savran took in every reaction, every minute expression that Arden made. The young woman had clearly registered the gravity of what could have been … what could have happened to her after leaving herself open. When she stepped back and paused to presumably reconsider her approach, Savran took advantage of the lull in combat to speak.

“Bluffs are a means of supplementing your tools in combat but if you rely on them too much, it’ll leave you exposed,” they said, twirling their sword with a flick of the wrist to point the blade’s tip at Arden once again.

As Savran watched their opponent prepare herself, they noticed a subtle shift in Arden’s presence in the Force. Threads of power coalesced around the Pantoran’s form only to be ignited and burnt to a crisp by a conflagration that exploded from within her. That anger, that rage … Savi knew it intimately, as well as the power it fueled.

“Force fury…” they muttered to themselves, surprised that such a young Force user had learned to call upon the obscure Force ability at will. What depths of pain had this one endured that allowed her to call upon such a power at will?

Lost in their musings, Savi hadn’t noticed another shift in Arden’s intentions, nor had they sensed her impending use of the Force to offset their balance. The Pantoran’s attack worked, though only for a moment. But that was enough for Arden to position herself for a strike. A flash of yellow appeared in Savran’s vision when Arden’s lightsaber drew near but the Shani dropped their blade into a hanging block to bat the lightsaber away. A small shower of sparks scattered from the point of impact when the two weapons clashed. The maneuver took a bit more effort than their previous strike not only because of Arden’s little telekinesis stunt, but also because the weight of her strike had increased noticeably–a product of the fury she channeled, no doubt.

“You’ve decided to use the Force then, huh? So be it.”

©

A quick flick of their wrist sent Savran’s blade careening toward Arden’s shoulder, but they twisted the blade at the last minute to hit with the dull, broadside of the weapon should the attack land.

Planet Arx, Continent of Uskil Shadow Academy Campus

Don’t be suspicious. Don’t be…suspicious.

Renora walked with purpose as she entered the corridors of the Academy Campus. In all honesty, this was her first visit to Arx. Back when she was a member of the Iron Legion, the Brotherhood was still centered around Antei. Yeah…that went so well.

It goes without saying she was hesitant to be on another centralized world.

Yet, she needed to access the archives. Battles were often decided in the preparation phase and that’s exactly what Renora was going to be: prepared. Now, before anyone breaks out into a rendition of “for a lifetime”, Renora had quite enough of those for any number of lifetimes. This was a far more delicate matter with less grandiose aims. She didn’t have any contracts on the go, so this one wasn’t for business. It was personal.

She cast a fake smile at the researchers passing by, faint wrinkles tugging at the edges of her eyes yet still not managing to let the smile reach her pale aquamarine eyes.

Still not suspicious.

The tap of Savran’s beskad on her shoulder served as a stark reminder to Arden—a point scored for her opponent. But the pantoran was not one to be outdone so easily. With a quicksilver reflex, she retaliated, her free hand darting out to seize hold of Savran’s clothing, pulling her adversary closer and, with a deft motion of her head, threatened a collision of skulls.

Yet, in the heat of the moment, her form faltered, and her precision wavered. Her grip lacked the strength she intended, and her once-masterful footwork betrayed her, stumbling on the shifting sands of the training ring. The maneuver she envisioned turned into a less-than-impressive display, leaving her offensive vulnerable and incomplete.

Realizing the imperfection of her strike, Arden knew better than to remain in a vulnerable position. In one fluid motion, she leaped backward, putting distance between herself and Savran. With the swiftness of a seasoned combatant, she repostured herself, readying for the next bout with unyielding determination.

Her mind raced, analyzing her previous moves, searching for flaws and weaknesses to rectify. Composure regained, her magenta eyes locked onto Savran, her focus unwavering. Arden was ever the adaptable fighter, learning from her mistakes, always seeking to improve.

As the pair prepared for their next exchange, the air crackled with anticipation. Arden’s spirit burned with the desire to prove herself, to show her mettle in this battle of skill and will. Her sloppy moment would not define her; it would only strengthen her resolve.

With the poised grace of a predator, she awaited the signal to resume their duel, her mind clear, her rage unyielding, and her will absolute. The next strike would bear the weight of her focus and determination, and she vowed to make it count.

Savran remained silent, widening their stance in anticipation of another clash. They began their advance, keeping their eyes locked on the pantoran woman who looked like she had a thousand things on her mind.

“You’ve shown yourself to be proficient with your saber,” Savran said, pointing their beskad’s tip toward her in a hanging guard, “but combat isn’t only about how you perform with weapons.”

It had just as much to do with how one’s mind dealt with the pressures of battle, and with the psychic assaults of one’s Force-wielding enemies. And that was precisely how Savi intended to test her in this second phase of their impromptu training session. They reached out with the Force and probed Arden’s mind, searching for a fault they could exploit. A few moments of investigation produced exactly for what the shani searched: an opening for them to exploit. The desire to prove herself lay on the surface of the pantoran’s mind, and Savran would use that against her. What followed was the imposition of doubt in the young woman’s mind. Would she ever live up to the expectations of those around her? To her own expectations? Of course, she wouldn’t. How could she?

When Savi was certain they had a firm hold on Arden’s mind, they stepped within range and thrust their beskad’s tip toward her shoulder.

Curled up at an impossible angle in a chair, Severin had at least three different books perched on him at varying degrees of instability. One book was a book on Selenian wildlife, another was what seemed to be a textbook on biological chemistry, and the third was one of Sev’s well loved journals. Said journal was worn along the spine and covers, the pages softened with continued use and adorned with different sketches surrounded by swirling handwriting in Kessurian.

The man himself held a concentrated expression on his face, his brows furrowed with the effort and his eyes locked onto the book about Selen.

He was on a mission.

Or more precisely, a quest. He was planning to worm his way back into Dajorra and onto Arcona’s home planet in hopes to study the wildlife there once more. He hadn’t gotten much of a chance the last time he was there. The Kessurian-Echani hybrid hummed softly as he flipped the page, eyes narrowing for a second as the strain of reading for– how many hours now? Three? Four? –had started to get to him.

A pencil twirled in his left hand as he studied, then scribbled down a few notes.

You know, usually Renora was better with directions. It didn’t matter that every hallway looked the same as the last, most complexes were like that (especially if they were military), so she would eventually find her way. What she found lacking this time was signage.

If she actually cared, she might lodge a complaint with someone that mattered. As it was, she didn’t care.

And she wasn’t about to ask anyone.

The former Legionnaire stopped and glanced upward in frustration. Her eyes fluttered closed and she exhaled, letting the annoyance pass with it. New plan: find the nerdiest of the nerds—the elder nerd—and follow them. But don’t look like she was following them. And so Renora’s programming training took over.

Taking longer than she’d ever admit, the woman finally came to the entrance of one of the archive access points. Of course there were more than one. That was beside the point, though. She just needed access.

Arden stood shaken, her inner equilibrium shattered by the intensity of her own emotions. Doubt clawed at the edges of her mind, gnawing at any semblance of progress she had hoped to achieve. As the shani adversary advanced, beskad poised for a strike, Arden braced herself for the inevitable clash.

The near-fatal blow came hurtling towards her, but in the face of danger, Arden’s instincts kicked in. With a fluid motion, she hefted her lightsaber, angling it across her body to meet the deadly attack head-on. The resounding clash of blades reverberated in the air, an act of defiance against the encroaching darkness.

Drawing upon her training and willpower, Arden skillfully manipulated the momentum of the deflection, transitioning it seamlessly into a powerful cross slash aimed at Savran’s torso. But Arden’s proficiency didn’t end there. In a display of precision and control, she dismissed her lightsaber just before it would have made contact, then swiftly reignited it as the blade cleared her sparring partner’s body.

It would have been a decisive victory on its own, but Arden always sought to surpass herself. With a quick shove of her free hand, she sent forth a wave of Force energy, intending to knock back the shani opponent and assert her dominance in the sparring match.

Yet, the lingering doubts that clouded her mind dimmed the full potency of her attack. The Force responded to her command, but the strength of her conviction faltered in the midst of her inner turmoil. The wave of energy proved less forceful than she had intended.

Eilen couldn’t help but smirk. Prior to attending this academy, she’d only ever had the manuals to read and the free time to practice. Baro didn’t have to be around for most of it, and she sometimes still tried without him when he should have been. The accidents had been few enough. “I think you’ll do alright,” she assured.

They walked a little further before reaching the gateway to the combat center. Eilen’s ear flicked as they approached; something was going on inside. She turned back down to Ro'ki and grinned. “Ready to see some badassery in action?”

Ro'ki arched a brow, “Always.”

He did wonder what kind of badassery one could get up to at an academy, but he looked forward to finding out. The Selonian made sure not to stray from Eilen’s side.

“Good! Because this…” Eilen keyed open the entrance and threw out her hand in an effort to look cinematic as the light poured in. “…is the Combat Center!”

Sure enough, some pair of ladies were throwing down. Neither were people she recognized, but if her second impression of women’s wrestling was anything to go by, it would be quite a show. Eilen quickly ushered in her follower and thought to find seats, until it quickly dawned on her that Ro'ki probably preferred to stand, like herself.

“Looks like a Force throwdown,” she whispered excitedly to him. “This oughtta be great!”

Ro'ki eyed the two combatants. He had little experience with Force-Users, let alone ones duking it out. He knew Eilen was one but, having not known her long, could not recall witnessing her use her powers. The Selonian scratched his cheek absently, taking in the scene, “So… fights like these are regular?”

Eilen surmised correctly, and Ro'ki remained on his feet.

Arden’s saber strike very well could have ended this little spar of theirs, but the Pantoran deactivated their lightsaber before the weapon’s superheated blade made contact. For a second, the thought that the young woman was trained in Trakata crossed Savran’s mind. But they dismissed that thought. It was more than likely that they were simply showing them the same mercy they’d shown her earlier. Besides, where would she have learned such an obscure form of lightsaber combat?

Savi lifted a hand in anticipation of a more powerful Force push, but it never came. They sensed Arden when confidence wavered and used that as an opportunity to riposte. Amplifying the speed of their blows with the Force, Savran into a dizzying chain of strikes: precise, stinging kicks and knees combined with the occasional acrobatic maneuver common amongst Teräs Käsi practitioners made them a challenging foe to overcome. They set a blazing pace, fueled by the thrill of battle.