The Emotional Battle

[Brilenus]

leethal said:

moooooore! i want mooooooreeee!! muahahahahaha!

Same here.

admin said:

lol ok ok...ye who is impatient! I'll see if I can get the next chapter done by tomorrow, but I am a bit stuck on the sword moves part....

I always hate that too, I put things in simple facts, so it isn't that entertaining...

[leethal]

take your time miss K, just wanted you to know i'm still reading. i understand writing is a time consuming activity.

[JediKaren]

“Well, you should pass, if you do that during the test. Now, I think we can improve those moves. First, you need to think about what you are doing”

I relaxed my shoulders and arms. I took a heavy breath. I went through all the basic moves we had been taught in class, the ones we would be tested on. I mentally went through the moves in my mind.

“Good, now do them again”

I went through each of the eight starting points, swinging the stick in various directions. I looked up once done, at Mirmo, trying to read his emotions. His face was impassionate mask that evaded my light scan. He voice failed to hint what he thought.

“The problem here, is not you knowing the moves, but you have yet to convince me that you are truly fighting and not just swinging a stick”

I opened my mouth a bit and slumped my shoulders. That was hardly fair to say! After all, I was swinging a stick. Then, without a single warning from his body or mind, he called a sparring stick to his hand with the power of the Force. I found the gesture one of high fascination, enough inspiring awe to keep me distracted and not move as he quickly and smartly smacked hard on the meat of my left arm.

The short, painful attack brought me out of my awe and into a world full of shock. This was not the master I knew minutes before. Before me was standing a man I hardly knew. His body was tense and rigid, ready to react to anything. His weary eyes darted and swept the room around him, taking in all. His legs where a piece apart, light on his feet, slightly bending his knees, ready to jump aside or deliver a powerful kick. He held the stick close to him, hands gripping tightly at the bottom at his waist, slightly angling the stick to cover most of his upper body. His back was straight, but still flexible. I sensed intense waves of the Force, searching the room where his eyes could not, roll off of him. A calm alertness came off him like a strong smell. What I was before me was a warrior. The peaceful, laid back meditator was stripped away to a cold, no nonsense man who radiated the overwhelming feeling of do not mess with me.

“Defend yourself”

With that, he attacked me again, using a quick left right, I later recognized this as a distraction, and hit me hard on my right arm. The strike was jolting enough to cause me to drop my stick and give a moan of pain.

“Defend yourself, apprentice”

Again, he attacked, bringing his stick around to his right upper shoulder, and was going issue a low strike to my left hip. I ignored and push aside the pain, quick to move back and side step to my right, avoiding the attack. He once again brought his stick to his right shoulder, if to repeat the same move, but as I was stepping a backwards left, he switched his angle and caught me on the upper part of my right arm with an over head swinging move. This blow was softer and somewhat slower. I froze and look up at him.

“Defend yourself with your sword”

As I bend over, keeping learned an eye on him and his deadly stick, I felt heat rise to my cheeks. One should never let go of their sword for any reason for it leaves you incredibly vulnerable to any attack. Plus, a Force sensitive can Force grab your weapon, leaving in their mercy. What was worse was I knew this. This was a mistake that even a novice should know better. I would have to increase my pain tolerance or learn to numb the pain while in battle.

I stood up, back straight, tense and uncomfortably stiff. I have never battled a person before, knowing nothing of what to do or what to expect. What few moves I knew and common sense ideas were no help when faced with an experienced fighter. It did not help the situation that I was fighting my master, eager to do well, yet embarrassed by my lack of talent and skill.

He attacked me again, using a short, swift stroke from the lower right, using just one hand. I clumsily, with slow, unused reflexes, to bring my stick to stop him from bruising my thigh. The move was too late, too unthought-of out to possibly do more than spend precious and much needed energy. My leg weakened with that blow, forcing me to favor it and lean to my left. Mirmo took advantage of my distracting pain and whipped out another blow to my calf, causing me to stand on my right leg, hopping around like a drunken fool, using the foulest curses I knew.

“When you are hit, say on your leg for instance, that is the place you want to protect the move, seeing how it is easiest to strike again. Never let pain get in the way of your life. Pain should only encourage you to work harder to protect yourself when engaged in a fight”

I lowered a throbbing leg down to the ground, dropping my stick as a sign of giving in. I nodded, showing that I was listening, but focused on slowing my mind and breathing, to calm raging nerves and a hammering heart. I rubbed various arms and legs, easing the pain away.

“When you present your skills for tomorrow’s test, remember this and execute them as if they were being using against me”

I moaned a bit for a respond. I sensed, although did not see, a smile form on my master’s face. He put away the two sticks, then lowered himself a bit and offered a hand to help lift me up from my humbled position. I took it, leaning heavily on my right leg, and slowly walked to my room to nurse a painful body.

[Intrigue]

*Applauds*

Being a big fan of 1v1 combat, I really enjoyed it! You did well, especially since you did it on-the-spot. Kudos! I look forward to reading the rest ^^

[leethal]

I just hope someone fights back next time

[JediKaren]

lol...she did fight back! It's just I knew I couldn't have her win. In fact, had it been me, it would of gone even worse. Come on, I want more comments after getting nagged to write this hard chapter!

[leethal]

It's great! keep it up!

[leethal]

Oh my god, karen that was sooo cool!

[JediKaren]

lol...omg you double posted!

[leethal]

didn't i triple post? Well you wanted comments and I wanted a story. problem solved!

[Brilenus]

Sorry about lack of comments, but been rather busy lately. Very nice, like all those before it.

[JediKaren]

Sometimes my dreams did weird things. At times, I could redream of a dream, or be aware that I was dreaming, change a dream that was going in the wrong direction, or even continue a dream. My dream that night was a continuation of the last nightmare.

Mirmo says nothing, making me feel worse. I hate my father. Even here, so far away, he has hunted me down, criticizing all that I love, all that makes me happy. I can not be him and can never satisfy him.

My father grows angry at his silence. My father continues to spit out words of loathing disgust towards my master, aimed at him and at the Jedi. My father takes a menacing step forwards to Mirmo. I feel my father’s anger like a boiling rage, threatening to overspill into violence. I coward in the dark corners of the room, as I silently beg my master to do something. Mirmo keeps his tranquil, polite glaze steady on the insane man before him. Out of loyalty and desperate dread, I step out of my fearful hunch, to give a warning to my master. My father, filled with madness, turns around and swings a powerful slap across my face. I am forced to the ground by the impact of the hit. My face stings with humiliation and shock. Mirmo finally takes a step forward. My father whips out a gun, not a blaster, and shoots my master in the chest. My master stares blankly at the hole, now dribbling deep red blood. I scream in angst and denial my master’s name.

I sat up, my blankets have been kicked half across the room and the pillows were scattered around in my bed. My throat is sore from the scream I gave that woke up me. Sweat drips down on my face, stinging my eyes. I can feel the hair on my neck straight up as I become aware of my shaking hands.

It was just a dream. That couldn’t happen. My father wouldn’t kill anyone. Or would he? He had been in the army. He had killed in the army. He had threatened to kill me before. I forced a racing heart to slow down and regulate my breathing enough that I could feel the Force. I extended my mind, picturing my peaceful dreaming master, to him, feeling the soft reinsuring presence. It was just a nightmare.

I looked at the time to find I might as well get up. I headed for the shower to clean up after that sweat bath and to wash away the vivid visions full of strong emotion out of my head. I focus on the spray and the welcoming heat to clear my mind out. This was not the day for nightmares or stress. Today was all about getting pass this lightsaber practical exam. Today was the worse day to loose my nerves. I needed all the focus I could get. My thoughts wondered back to Mirmo, trying to understand how he could fail to stop the bullet that was a sure death. Did he not believe me? He did underestimate the rath and power anger of my father? Did he so honestly believe that peaceful meditation wins all? I shook my head to shake the doubts out of my head. Again, I reminded myself today was not the day for such thoughts.

Stepping out of the shower, drying my long, brown hair, I wondered what I should do in my time before classes started. I could go talk to Mirmo, but perhaps it was best not to talk about this and not start up calmed down fears. I could go find Lyn and hang around her, but our relation had grown enough she would pick up my mood and ask questions I didn’t want her asking. It was best that she was in the dark about my reoccurring nightmares. As far was I was concerned, she didn’t need to trouble herself with my pity past. The burden was mine to bare, though my master stubbornly protested against this.
Then I thought of what to do. Go outside. Go where there is natural peace. Go where no one can bother you or would look for you. Go outside and heal.

I took a deep breath, as much as my lungs could take, of the morning dew, of crunching grass and leaves under my feet, of the smells of millions of animals, and of the perfume of wild exotic flowers. It was the smell of the living Force, a smell I could keep smelling for eternity. I opened myself up to the full span of the Force, losing my identity, mind, and personality to the conscious of the Force. For a moment, I forgot about I was standing, slightly sweating in the heat of the rising tropic sun, and was only aware of the universal at large. But, this was only for a few seconds and my attention dropped back to the ants that had decided to climb up my legs and onto my hands. I shook them off and began walking.

I did not far because I did not want to lose sight of the temple, not knowing how to get back if I did. There was no need to go far anyhow. The various plants were of so many colors and different shades, I was sure I could find a new color no artist had ever used. There were glimpses of wild life, mostly small, darting birds and rodents, to catch the swish of a tail or heard the rustle of leaves when the birds took off. The jungle was alive with the sound of music coming from the birds whistling, creaking, and barking out their song of mating or demanding food. One could heard the distance howls and answering cries of packs hunting breakfast. I looked up to see darkening grey cloud pre told the promise of a rainy day. The clouds where low, covering a great amount of land and slow, like an evil presence slinking sneakily to siege control and ruin all hope of light. I shivered, being reminded of my dream.

I headed back to the temple, not so much for the rain, but because my stomach demanded with rude growls that I feed it. I found my master waiting outside of the dining hall. His questioning face told me he knew of my little stroll and knew there was a reason why I could take it so early in the morning. I was not about to retell of my disturbing dream, so instead I smiled, brightening up my presence, and cheerfully greeted him, asking how he was. His eyes narrowed as he greeted me back and said he was well. He followed me into the room, starting to fill with hungry Jedi. I knew I had only briely avoided being questioned, knowing I could not escape him the whole day, but glad he decided not to drill me now. As I ate, I begin to prepare myself for the up coming test, one I would glad just to get over.

[snowind]

It was really good, the mistery!. I hope he does well .

[JediKaren]

Master Mirmo was the first of the knights and masters to take an apprentice from my class of students. He took me much earlier than anyone else, and as I hear some say behind my back, too early. There was a huge mountain of mystery about us. Students wondered why he took me. I constantly caught students, and even staff at times, studying and analyzing me, as if they were trying to understand the clouded history of me. The buzz of talk concerning Mirmo was clear that even knights and masters that had been part of Mirmo’s class, could not understand why he choose me, especially after refusing to take an apprentice for so many years. There seemed to be equal amount of mystery in the subject of me. No one knew me, for I didn’t talk very much and turned stone cold silent when I sensed a pryer. Even Lyn didn’t know too much about me. She knew of my personally, my unpredictable hyperness, my ever so fast changing moods, and of my talents, but she was excluded in my history. She was the only person that didn’t mind not knowing me fully. To be fair, I didn’t know much about her and it was understood that I didn’t need to know. Our friendship was strong and steady enough to respect each other’s need for privacy.

It was other training that I received on Earth that had taught me, though it was not meant to, to ignore being looked at or knowing people were trying to look at me without being noticed. I had learned enough self control not too blush, not to let my heart race, and fumble around, but to act as though I was blind to their stares of wonder and continue my every day life. Privately, I found the looks annoying. There was nothing special about me. I was a no one. Back at my home planet, I was one in billions, just a number with no name, no money, no power or fame, and no reason for anyone to give a care about me. This unasked for attention brought confusing messages of who I was and what I should think and do.

No one knew, with the exception of my master, the only Jedi I confided in my troubles of new given interest among people I didn’t know, how much of relief it was for the attention to turn on the new chosen apprentice. I was sick of awkwardly avoiding people’s same questions on a weekly basis and hiding in strange places to escape wondering eyes. It was now my turn to do the staring on the new girl, a tall, skinny with bright flaming red hair, and try to understand why she got picked. She seemed a bit pushy for my tastes, a bit more on the bossy side that I was, with less consideration that almost extended on to the side of rude, when she was around people. Unlike me, she was surrounded by a group of adoring or pitifully jealous girls. She had a loud voice that carried her commanding presence. She was picked, well, I guessed, for her skills in the Force and leadership. Her master was not quite so pompous, but the master gave me a new appreciation for Mirmo.

We were all standing in the matted floor with gleaming white walls of the lightsaber training room, nervously chatting to each other, with a few who were going over moves minutes before the test. As usual, I stood a pace away from the group, radiating my normal “leave me alone” feeling through the Force and by the position of my after turned back. The conversation predictably turned to the new apprentice, wondering how one attracts a master and if should one find the courage to ask, or to summon the patience and hope to wait for the master to ask the student.

I was nervous about the test, but the fight the night before had struck some confidence in me, as well as purple, swelled bruises. My mind accidentally turned, in attempt to stop worrying over the next hour, about the night before. Images of my father whipping a gun out and pulling the trigger, my scream over the boom of the gun shot, and the blood running down my Master’s chest, brought back the fear I had felt earlier. I squeezed my eyes shut, mastered my brain, and focused on absolutely nothing behind my eye lids. I quickly opened my eyes, glancing around to see if anyone had picked up on my brief moment of panic. Not even my master, who was standing next to the new master, had moved from his stance. I breathed a thank you to the Force.

The room went deadly silent in fear and respect when the lightsaber teacher walked in. I saw the worried or anxious looks in my fellow students, and keenly felt their emotions, as well as my own. The teacher greeted us and bowed her head to the knights in the back, before starting her talk of how the teat would proceed. When our name was called, we were to pick up a stick from the rack, bow to her, bow to the students, and begin the drill we had been taught. We would be tested on our skill at executing the moves and our memory of the order of the moves. We had already been told this, but I could tell people needed to be told that once again.

I had thought she would call us in alphabetical order, leaving me in the middle of the list, able to watch others make the first mistake, but I was wrong. I was given quite an unpleasant shock when I heard my name being called first. The students parted, leaving me a path to step forward. With trembling hands I took the stick and stepped into the open space. It was in that moment, that I knew how to do the test. I remembered the night before, the grace of my master, the sureness of his moves, and how he was careful not to waste energy with personal flare.

I bowed twice, purposely not looking at my master, worried it would ignite my fear all over again, and raised my right hand. I remembered how my mastered used the high right shoulder angle to begin an attack. As I moved the stick to my waist, I remembered how he lowered his hands down to that level. I moved my hands to my right hip, with the tip of the make shift sword pointing to the ground. Mirmo surprised me starting that low. I maneuvered the stick between my legs, imaging a blow that was meant to cut a person in half. I mirrored my right hand stances with my left hand, though not with the same skill, seeing how I am right handed. I mentally shuddered when I brought the stick over my head, knowing it was an ultimate mortal strike and then pulled back the sword and lunged, as if I was going to stab someone in the stomach.

With still, planted feet, I swung the stick, with only a whisper of wood passing through air. I envisioned the pervious fight, copying the style Mirmo had displayed. I used his courage and subtle fierceness, without dark anger, in my moves. I went through eight different swings and then repeat one, twisted my wrists and mirrored it. I carried out several more moves before ending the test with a mandatory bow. The students clapped for me as I carefully looked at the teacher for approval. Her face said nothing and she held herself in so I could not read her in the Force. I slightly shrugged, figuring she would correct us at the end. I quickly sat down, breathing deeply, trying to calm my racing with nerves mind and heart. I could only hope I did well enough to pass.

[snowind]

It was marvelous Karen. Really good. . Fan already.