Lunar Training Faciltiy Arx Minor 40 BBY
It had been quite some time since Marick had worked directly with the…Council as Evant had decided to now call them. He had of course kept apprised of changes, and while Evant had not fully revealed the intent behind the role of ‘Exarch’ he knew he’d inveitibly be working or interacting with members of this Council that looked very different than the one he served under Telaris and Pravus.
That was probably for the best.
The Fist of the Brotherhood entered through the electronic sliding doors and looked around with a critical eye. He had heard of the new facility, of course, and was supportive of any project that looked to sharpen the battle skills of members of the Brotherhood.
“Only one path to victory…” The Togarian mused aloud.
“That’s the idea,” a low, calm voice answered. A Hapan wearing a gray and white robes appeared holding a datapad.
“A crucible, if you would,” the Fist replied.
“Sure,” Marick replied evenly. “Either way, I appreciate your willingness to test out this new technology. I’ve also asked a friend to assist in this as well.”
As he finished the thought, just on queue, a familiar green-skinned man with dreadlocks and dark robes entered. He quickly took in the facility, and everything about it, noting the lack of exits, and then furrowing his brow at the Togarian.
“Tyris,” Ruka greeted formally.
“Ruka,” the Hapan replied easily. “I appreciate you sparring the time from your duties. And before you ask, yes, I’ve tested this technology myself.”
He held up his hands and moved them around to demonstrate himself being in one piece. “I’m still reticent to throw the journeyman at it, though. I’ve also invited Master Rahjin, unsure if you’re acquainted…”
“The new Fist,” Ruka said stiffly, though he still dipped his head and shoulders in formal fashion. “We’ve been present on the same holocalls since the War, ay, but that’s about it ‘sides what you’ll find in a dossier.”
Violet eyes, ringed in black ink and scars, shifted to Tyris.
“So how’s this going to work? I read your notes, but…” he shrugged one armored shoulder.
Marick nodded once. “The grid you see before you will create a virtual reality simulation that should, for all intents and purposes, function like a full-scale sensory illusion. You will be able to "load in” your registered armor and weaponry through the terminal.
A disembodied voice, robotic but very clear and crips, chimed in from somewhere overhead.
"Greetings weary travelers, would you like to destroy some evil today?"
“C3D3, like EDI, is derived from research technology efforts from the Children of Mortis’ crystals. I wish I could explain how it works, but he will be handling the simulation details.”
He tapped a few times on the datapad and gestured towards the terminal off to the side. “Inside the grid, you will be able to move, run, jump, and leverage the Force or your weapons as if you were out in the field. The difference, being, you won’t permanently cause any damage.”
He glanced at the Fist. “The Children of Mortis are one of the most dangerous threats we’ve all come to face. Sparring matches aren’t going to cut it if we want to be ready…”
Rajhin nodded in agreement, “more realistic training will allow leaders across the Legion and the clans to bring more warriors home….and victorious.”
The Togorian cracked his knuckles, “I do not hold back anyway.”
The Mirialan’s violet eyes knifed over to the Togorian, a flat, hard look for his declaration before turning back to Marick and the terminal grid.
“I don’t kriffing like this,” he made clear. “The whole making our people experience pain and sithspit like it’s real. Illusions, they just as bad as if it was happening worse even, ‘cept in there, you saying I could cut somebody’s legs off ten times over and they’d just endure it, ay? Come right back out and do it again?” He shook his head, mouth a grim line, gaze flinty. “I’m doing this because no way in hell is anyone going in there before I know it’s safe, and before I know just how scarring it’s gonna be without nobody holding back.”
“I figured you’d understand,” Marick replied very calmly. I’ll be in the observation bay above and on comms. The displays there show me what you’ll be seeing. “And no, you shouldn’t feel anything if your legs are cut off. However, you might have a tingling sensation in your legs for the next few hours afterward. It did not affect me as so.”
Ruka grunted at that, seemingly slightly mollified.
“We leave our real gear out then? Anything we need to change into?”
“Whatever you’re comfortable in, but you can leave your weapons and gear in the lockers”
Nodding again, the Proconsul looked to the Fist as if it say well? and proceeded towards the lockers, where he began to discard his armor and remove his weapons, four different sacramental blades and his lightsaber. When he was down to the bodysuit that hugged underneath his armor and robes, he padded over to the rig.
Rajhin dutifully removed his weapons and armor until he was also down to a bodysuit. The Togorian cautiously approached the device as if a slight misstep would break it.
“Let us see how well this simulation was made.”
Marick nodded and tapped a few buttons on his datapad. “I’ll be above.”
The grid lit up with a florescent emerald glow once both Ruka and Rahjin stepped on.
“` "Greetings Mortals!” the robotic voice droned cheerily.
“Adept Ruka Tenbriss Ya-ir. Biometrics: Confirmed. Loadout: deploying”.
“Adept Rajhin Cindertail. Biometric scans: confirmed. Loadout: deploying.” “`
As C3D3 spoke, Ruka and Rajhin became bathed in an almost blinding light as the world around them seemed to fade away.
Their armor and weapons materialized onto their persons. Even a blink, or a flicker of the eyes and one second there was the body suits and the other they were back in full armaments.
”` “Desired venue, or should I select for you?”.
“`
Rajhin’s amber eyes squinted at overwhelming brightness of the void he now found himself in. “Do you have any venues of actual battle sites such as Arx city or,” he paused as he glanced over at Ruka, “the more recent attacks on clan territories?”
"Do I have venues of actual battles..." C3D3 was clearly trying to mimic Rajhin's cadence of tone. "I'll pretend that wasn't asked, because of course I do. However, I have a better idea, if you would..."
The grid flickered and then where once there was squares and geometric patterns of light, there was…an elongated platform about 50 meters long. It seemed to be floating through space, over a planet of some kind, as in the background, detonations at a massive scale went off in sequences of the different attacks by the Children of Mortis. Lava spikes and molten rocks shifting and changing to clouds of ochre light.
The platform was spherical, but had runic carvings on it. Jagged stalactites spurted up from the platform, and it seemed like it was being held up in the atmosphere by a series of complicated servos pulsating with kyber energy. There was nothing else, save for two suspended, floating smaller platforms on each side of the strip of steel and stone.
"Welcome, to final destination, Guardians of the Brotherhood! May the odds be in one of your favors."
Ruka had nodded gamely at Rahjin’s suggestion, thinking it smart. When he saw the…pipedream that they were given, he stared for a long moment, lips parting. His eye twitched.
And then he sighed and, somewhat hesitantly, reached to draw his ‘dagger.’ The hilt of the emerald blade felt real enough in his hand to cause his stomach to twist and sweat to prickle on his palm, so that was… something.
“Feels like it’s there,” he reported aloud. He pivoted on his heel, and with a flick of his fingers, then his eyes, launched the blade into a stalactite across from them. It struck with a resounding, oddly crystalline ping.
“Well kriff me…” the Mirialan muttered, spinning slowly around again and glancing at Rahjin, but mostly at the environment, feeling like he was standing in a holo.
“ACCURSED MACHINE, THIS IS NOT WHAT I ASKED!” Rajhin growled as he paced and took in his unnatural surroundings. He took his beskar spear, or what he perceived to be his trusted weapon, turned it downward and stabbed it into the ground with a powerful thrust. The ground gave the same resistance as if it were the stone it appeared to be.
“Curious,” Rajhin remarked as he readied his sword.
“` "THE IRON LORDS ARE WATCHING, GUARDIAN!” C3D3 mimic’d the shout from nowhere and everywhere around the simulated arena.
“THERE IS ONLY ONE PATH TO VICTORY” “`
Ruka sighed.
Fighting one of the fight-happy kinds while overseen by a dramatic droid.
Great.
But it was for their people, so the Mirialan put even those idle annoyances out of his thoughts entirely and let himself drop in his mind, down below a black, mirror-sheen surface, sink into the depths of the water and the Dark and the battle mind that married to his form. In one hand, his lightsaber fell into his palm with barely a thought, blazing blue into their chromatic cosmos of a staging ground. The other lifted, despite not needing to, and with a flick of his fingers and narrowing of his eyes, Ruka sent the beskar spear his opponent had so generously elected to stab into the ground up into the air and clear off the platform.
“` "Oh, clever clever,” C3D3 whistled robotically. “But that’s not very ‘plus ultra’ of you.”
As the spear sunk into the depths of seeming space, a pair of heart beats passed, and then the spear re-appeared from the opposite side of the platform. It flew threw the air, propelled by an unseen hand, and then landed back in its original spot that Rajhin had set it in.
“In human culture, I believe they would call that a ‘jerk-move’” C3D3 chirped happily. “`
“We’re simulating combat, not ‘plus ultra,’” the Mirialan deadpanned to the…ceiling? Nevertheless he remained in his stance, ready for the Togorian’s charge.
Rajhin walked up to the newly reset spear and calmly pulled it out of the ground. “DAMNED MACHINE, DO NOT INTERFERE!” He tossed the weapon back over the edge.
“This clever young warrior took advantage of an opponent’s hubris, the Children will certainly have no qualms about using ‘jerk moves’ against us.” The Fist’s words dripped with both respect for Ruka’s initiative and disdain for the AI’s battlefield sensibilities.
The Togorian took up a two-handed grip on his Sith alchemical blade, breathed deep and called upon all the rage he felt in the past few months of Children attacks. With almost supernatural speed he launched at his Arconan opponent unleashing a flurry of powerful blows.
While the Force allowed Ruka to know the barrage was coming clear as day, clear as a bell, clearer than anything, that foreknowledge did not mean he was fast enough to dodge away from the enraged Togorian. Even as his body moved instinctively to twist away from the strikes it sensed coming, there there there, Rahjin’s blade sliced through his armor, scoring along skin and muscle and causing him to stumble in his retreat.
The sensation was overwhelmingly strange. Not pain, not what he expected, not what his nerves and mind knew. That strangeness staggered him far more than the injury would have otherwise; those he was used to pushing through, to moving with. This was just… tingling and buzzing and–“Gaaaah,” groaned the Mirialan at the feeling, pushing at his side and saber arm as if trying to brush off a colony of ants. He didn’t have long though to be surprised. The Fist was on the attack, and he was forced to keep moving with their battle’s raging rhythm.
Rajhin moved on near instinct as his Miralian opponent struggled to recover the initiative. For all the speed and fury, the Togorian was strategic in probing Ruka’s defenses with every attempted blow. In his younger days the Fist would have been far less patient after drawing blood from an opponent while employing rage techniques but through years of experience he had learned to keep his focus.
A warning rippled through Rajhin’s awareness just as he began a powerful downward slash. His opponent parried the blow with his own weapon then extended an open palm toward the Togorian’s now exposed midsection. Rajhin steeled himself as best he could in the moment but at point blank range there was no avoiding the translucent blast of Force energy.
The Fist barely managed to stay on his feet despite sliding backwards from the impact of the telekinetic blow. The pain he felt from the strike was strange, like a dream or reverie of past combat, not quite real. Getting the wind knocked out of him however, was very real.
Rajhin coughed as Ruka took advantage of the opening to make a few hops backwards to create distance and regain his own composure, ”WELL PLAYED YOUNG WARRIOR!”
It wasn’t even the allusion to his age that got another sigh from Ruka, nor the shouting in and of itself – though that did sit right behind his eyes like a hot knife, he had plenty of experience ignoring migraines induced by muscled testosterone addicts that talked like they were messaging in capitalized bold at all times. Years of living in the same city as a Garmis did that to a man.
No, it was more the enthusiasm that grated, and the often-hailed as unfun Mirialan was prompt to follow up immediately rather than give Rahjin any more room to breathe, compliments or otherwise.
His hands lifted again, but this time not to form a fist and chamber a hammer blow of force. Instead, they wove, fingers flicking, and his lightsaber flew from his palm even as one emerald dagger flew from his belt. With a jerk of his wrists they lanced across the space, one a solid, shining, pinwheeling hum of blue plasma, the other a glint of green barely seen before it was gracing the Togorian’s defenses, stabbing for the slot between ribs.
Acting on pure instinct, Rajhin raised his left hand and willed a luminous shell of Force energy into existence around him. He extended the shield as far out as he could but having to cover in all directions the former Jedi Guardian could only manage a meter in diameter. It offered some breathing room from the floating weapons assailing him.
Amber eyes darted around the sparse battlefield as the Fist’s mind raced to formulate a plan. He had mere seconds before his defense would give out. Rajhin could feel the sluggish crash of his rage technique subsiding. It was now or never. He breathed deeply as his opponent’s blades crashed into his barrier with deep THWUMB sounds.
The Fist dashed forward with all the speed his body could manage, hoping to take his opponent by surprise. With his focus on keeping the shield up as long as possible, he was not able to call upon the Force to aid his movement. Every muscle in his body burned as the unnatural boost from earlier left him.
As Rajhin lept to tackle his foe he could feel Ruka’s emerald dagger slashing him across the back. He wasn’t fast enough.