Log:Mandalorian Training
Mandalorian Training
OOC Date: August 3, 2019
Location: Ordo Compound, Mandalore
Participants: Narsai Ordo, Aryn Cole
If one needed to feel like a total stranger upon a world, where everything they did was watched, analyzed, assessed, and calculated into some sort of perceptive likelihood of threat; one needed only visit one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy; Mandalore.
Aryn Cole stood atop a terrace near the space port, the only space port that was open to outsiders. It was a glimpse into the war-torn landscape of a once proud world and culture. "From the dust we rise, and through the vigors of trial and time, it's to the dust we are destined to return," Aryn recited to herself as she ran a gloved hand over the bannister of stone and surveyed the thick amount of dust she had appended from it. Thousands of years of warfare stained the soil here and all she could feel was despair.
The wind captured the length of her light green cape, carrying it back from her shoulders to reveal that the doctor wore a set of scout armor designed for any clime or place, yet in the presence of so many Mandalorian warriors, Aryn felt under-equipped and outclassed. Her scarred face turned toward the horizon briefly, catching the light just right to accentuate the angry mark over her eye as she studied what landscape she could make out with young, light blue eyes.
Despair certainly, but there was more to it than that. There was history, culture, effort, glory and purpose once felt...and hopefully being rediscovered. At least, that's what Narsai took from it all. Wrapped in her own black and red armor, the redhead woman was awaiting in the clearing of the training space. Her helmet was removed, resting tucked againt her hip while she waited.
There were plenty of reasons for people who weren't Mandalorians to avoid this world...hell, there were refugees that want to leave the planet one plenty of days! If Aryn actually had the will to show up? Well, that was a good start to the no-doubt grueling training to come.
It took some time, but Aryn arrived slightly ahead of schedule. She had grown up under the expectations of a father who demanded punctuality; being on time was interpreted as being late. Helmetless like the Mandalorian, Aryn approached with some familiarity and dipped her head respectfully. In their brief time together facing the horrors of space, Aryn had developed a respect for the armored warrior. "Mandalore." When she looked up, it was to grin. "I think I like you without a helmet. You have a pretty face." Aryn's hands hooked to her belt and she looked around their present surroundings, determining that they stood in the sands of some sort of proving ground. She felt nervous, but Aryn tried to stand confidently.
A smile, but there was a note of amusement to it as Narsai herself nodded to the other woman and then looks to the helmet she herself carried. "Maybe, but it's quite a lot less resistant to blasters and blades than the helmet." A smile, she takes a step closer, closer still and then...steps past Aryn to gesture a sweeping hand over their little clearing.
"This space is used by the warriors that fight on Mandalore to try and bring some security to those that choose a path other than that of a bandit or a warrior, it helps train those who would help me push back against warlords who would rather rule their own corner of a hollow shell than see our culture brought meaning once more." A pause, she turns back to look at Aryn, "but today, it's going to be used by you. There are things we will practice here, others that can be practiced away from the eyes of others to avoid sharing secrets one might not want shared."
Young as she was, the youngest Mandalore in their history perhaps, Narsai certainly seemed to carry all the confidence in the world as she stood at the center of the proving ground. "I've seen you fight, you do not start with nothing. You handle a blade competently and know what it's like to feel the impact jerk up your arm. So let's start simple," she pauses and reaches to lift her helmet into place, obscuring her pinned-back hair and fair features. "Show me what you can do if you -don't- have a weapon."
Aryn stands and turns, her gaze following the youthful Mandalore. It's done to show Narsai has her attention, but also out of genuine respect. When Narsai indicates their surroundings, Aryn spares a moment to look over them again with newer expectations. She can't help the feeling that resides in her tummy, the sudden anticipation of a fight, even if it's for training. She'd never been good at fighting save with a sword.
Her gaze comes back to Narsai, observing her place her helmet over her head, the tell-tale of what might follow. Aryn nods, and triggers the activation of her own helmet. It emerges from the thick collar of her armor, forming over the back of her head until it cascades down the front of her face, sealing. Its appearance is that of an emotionless characteristic with eyes that light up with a faint purple hue. Aryn spares another moment to unclamp her cape, sweeping it clear from her form and casting it to one side in a single motion. It reveals the concealed crystal sword strapped to her back!
Free from possible restraint, the young Jedi doctor commits to the attack, adopting a balanced stance (for once), and leveling a swing that has some juice behind it. This finds only air, but it 'whooshes' by and is drawn back to reinvigorate her defensive guard.
A sudden twist, a movement of her own arms and Narsai pivots as the blow misses. It's only after the Jedi doctor backs of defensively that she'd suddenly find an armored arm that twists around to trap her arm and draw her back for a sharp blow against her midriff from the other elbow. Despite that armor, the Mandalorian moved like its weight didn't restrict her at all.
She's still moving, trying to twist the other woman's arm back and trap her arm back behind her.
Aryn found her arm captured and being wrenched, but the true insult to injury was the blow that disoriented her; a sharp strike to her midriff has her voice come over the helmet's emitter as a slight heave that made her cry out. Favoring where her arm was going, Aryn bent at her knees and jumped, twisting in a manner that would have landed her facing the Mandalorian free of the arm lock. Instead, she lands off balance, yet still facing the other warrior. The technique was sloppy but its intended purpose of avoiding a compliance hold was made. Aryn surged forward then, putting her shoulder into Narsai's torso to drive her back. One leg pivots to station behind her's as if setting up for some sort of hip-toss or leg sweep!
It's quite the acrobatic attempt, one that would probably work in most cases...but the Mandalorian woman seemed to be able to react to it. That attempt to try and shoulder-check to sweep? It's met by a twist and a backwards step complete with a hook of her foot. Attempting to draw Aryn's leg further than her intended step, she's intending to either pull her off-balance or force her into an uncomfortable split.
Narsai herself steps back, hands raised, but there's pause enough to suggest she might have otherwise attacked or drawn a weapon in a more 'real' situation. "Adaptability is good," she speaks with a voice distorted by her helmet. "Keep going!"
Aryn is brought off balance and held in that position until she isn't, and the pause emphasizes the sudden opening and is mentally as painful as it might have been physically if Narsai had made the effort to take advantage of it. Split apart, Aryn takes her fighting stance again and watches, the purple hue of helmet glowing where the eyes should be. The call to keep fighting spurs Aryn to the attack again. It's a brilliant spinning kick, but Narsai is either too fast or simply saw it coming. It 'Whooshes' by again, and Aryn lands, stepping into the offensive to chase after the Mandalorian.
This time, the blows don't quite land on the doctor, but they certainly come close. The spinning kicks and movements has her tilting her head, her own guard raised readily. "Echani?" she questions lightly as she keeps her hands ready and backs off lightly while gesturing for Aryn to advance while she speaks. "Easier to do with no armor, and often suprising." she gives a little grin. "Not the first Jedi I've met who fights that way...but effective if you can master it..." she trails off.
Aryn dances, avoiding harm this round and sliding off to one side. Dust has been appended around them as a result, and Narsai's question only gets a confirming nod that she had titled the technique appropriately. Aryn is breathing hard now, tired, and the rush of adrenaline has begun to taper leaving her feeling a bit exhausted from all the motion. Narsai beckons her forward, and the exhaustion shows in Aryn's advance, especially after she swings and misses again. It makes her audibly laugh.
This time, Narsai doesn't attack again. Instead she simply steps out of range before raising her hands. She'd seen enough for the moment. "Mandalorians technology over our history has been built on discovering, assuming and adapting. We've invented and perfected things, but even the ancient Mandalorians adapted the Basilisks and our armor from things we encountered." She steps closer now, lowering her hands. "The same thing is true for good combat. Adapt to what you encounter, absorb what works and discard what is useless. When you're in a hand-to-hand fight? Strike fast and hard as you can, find the gaps in your opponent and punish them..."
The young woman pauses, giving a soft laugh, "But I suppose that much isn't really unique. Our experiences in fighting Jedi and other foes has lead to our own 'styles' and methods forming the way they have." She shifts, drawing close enough to speak low lest they be overheard. "Tell me Aryn. Have you built a lightsaber yet? Did they teach you that?"
Aryn's helmet retracts and disappears beneath her collar. Its absence reveals a red cheeked Doctor whose face is moist from sweat. Her hair is matted to her cheeks a bit but she directs it behind her ears and listens as Narsai speaks. When she draws nearer, Aryn looks to the Mandalorian visor.
"Yeah," and to put confirmation to her statement, the inconspicuous device is disconnected from her belt and brought to view. She does not activate it. "I consider it more my strength than my fists and kicks." She admits, still out of breath. "I consider myself a life-long student. Not to just their teachings, but everything. I want to know more, be more. It's hard. I look at you and I see generations of stoic warriors, hardened by lifetimes of war and battle. I see my reflection in your visor, I see a tired girl. Heh." A deep breath, and she laughs again. "Progress is a slow current."
Narsai's own helmet comes off and she glances about. Thankfully the training space was mostly empty, but even then the Mandalorian warriors would probably glance their way, but Mandalore wasn't freaking her out so people weren't going to be drawing weapons just yet. The redhead woman sets the helmet aside, tilting her head to the side. "What about now?" she muses lightly with a grin, "We are all more than we appear after all."
Without her helmet, that glow is reflected in her features before she lowers her hands. "You've used a normal blade, so you're used to the shock of a weapon hitting something else and vibrating up your arm...Many are not. A sudden shock can throw a Jedi...or a Sith's arm off and make it easy to unbalance or disarm them." A smile on her lips, she gestures to the other woman. "Progress is better than 'perfection', only one of them has room to grow. When you're ready, I'll teach you about fighting others who have such a weapon...unless you think that the weapon is unbeatable of course."
"I'm not /that/ naive, Mandalore." Aryn replies back, laughing. She fastens the weapon back to her belt casually. "There is no ultimate weapon. Its effectiveness relies on the person that holds it. Tal Varso says that weapons used with purpose, directed by passion of duty, become extensions of one's self; the manifestation of will." Aryn says, quoting a philosopher from some point in history. "What Varso doesn't say is that when someone better comes along, will and purpose and all that poetic stuff doesn't matter. Philosophy and romanticism doesn't stop a well placed bolt to the head." Aryn manages a tired smile, and laughs. It's clear she's been around soldiers before, she's begun to inherit their dark sense of humor.
"Perhaps you can teach me more about your people too. Maybe one day, I can be a confident warrior like you."
