Father vs Son

[Julian Orspach]

He smirked a bit, his eyes narrowing into slits as he stood with one leg back, non-chalantly he retrieved his lightsaber from his belt. Well it was Nomi's lightsaber, but it was his for now. He let the weight of the perfectly balanced hilt lead his hand down and he stared intently at his father whose idea this duel was. He loved training even now it was something that got his juices flowing, theories were great, but practice was better and to be finally training with another Jedi again was something he yearned for especially one as good as his father. it had bene over 20 years since they had dueled and never was it on equal footing, it was always Arty going easy on him because he was too young, now they were adults, now they were Knights and Julian was more than ready to prove himself to his father and the other Jedi watching, Erril and Ashlin among them.

"Are you ready?"

He noticed Arty's nod and immediately Julian dropped into a full Soresu stance his now ignited lightsaber by his head and his other arm forward, the blue blade hummed steadily as his eyes and senses fixated on Arty waiting for him to make the move.

[Arty Orspach]

"Am I ready? More like are you ready, you had the upper edge on the Crusader, now it's time for you to learn your place my son."

Nailed it. Perfect intimidation factor, Arty's tried and true matte black hilt flew into his head and he took an Ataru stance before Julian dropped into his Soresu....Soresu?!?! Arty's eyes widened a bit, Julian didn't use Soresu, at least not that he ever knew about, Julian was Ataru and had dabbled vapaad, but never Soresu. Nevermind that question would come later. He took a breath and felt Juilian's purple eyes goading him on, the younger Jedi had know idea what he was in store for him. Arty had been out saving the galaxy since Julian was in diapers and moreover, he had helped train his son in the finer skills of lightsaber combat before Master Taran took over as his master. This was not going to be a difficult fight.

He launched a powerful full frontal attack, leaping into the air and bringing the full force of his blade powered by his body weight down in a massive blow designed to knock Julian's lightsaber either out of his hand or push it so far away that he could tap sensor on his chest and win the fight in one move, all too easy...

[Julian Orspach]

He did not react to the verbal assault, he knew its intent and he simply ignored it letting it roll off his shoulders, his grin tightened a bit as he watched his father move, he expected a disarming attack was sure to be his first ploy and he was right, the speed of Arty's attack was considerable and did not leave much time for reaction nor any real time for thought, but he didn't need the time, his instincts had told him this was coming, he allowed the force to flow through him and assist him in his response. The key to defending against an attack like this was to not block it.

Julian's blue blade hummed as he twirled it into a defensive position and as Arty's blade impacted his rather than attempting to fight it off, he absorbed it and allowed the energy of the hit to redirect his blade, the smaller and more agile of the two Jedi used the momentum to twirl to his right and the energy traveled through his blade which brought it towards the center of his father's back in a slashing motion.

[Arty Orspach]

As he landed and his blade impacted Julian's he had expected his son to fight against the force in the blow, but instead he had expertly dodged it, in a way that was not entirely typical of Jedi who was as strong both physically and mentally as Julian was. Then in sheer bewilderment, he saw Julian move and in half of a half of a second, bring his blade directly towards Arty's back. Arty tried to move quickly, but felt the ding of the sensor go off and the force of the repulser as it pushed Julian's blade preventing it from making lethal contact with Arty. His eyes widened as he looked over at his son who for all intents and purposes had just defeated him with ease. His own eyes narrowed as he extinguished his lightsaber and righted himself.

"That sure was lucky of you. Two our of three? I wasn't even going full force yet, I was holding back a bit, but clearly that wasn't necessary."

He scanned Julian's features, looking for a reaction, he hadn't seen one from his failed verbal attack moments ago and it was clear that didn't phase him, but maybe he could get a bit under his skin a bit and shove him off his mental balance a bit and show him who was really boss.

"Since when do you use Soresu anyway?"

[Julian Orspach]

"Since I grew up and became responsible for others and their safety. Ataru is a form that is fine if you are in a situation where it's one on one and you can afford to take risks. It loses it's appeal when you are leading other Jedi and some of them are counting on you for their own survival. Taking risks at that point even if it is something you know is calculated is a bit selfish because if you fall, who is going to take your place? Will your death lead to the death of the rest of the Jedi you are fighting with? Those are questions I had to ask myself in that position, about the time I was sixteen or seventeen. I concluded that not only was Soresu more conservative in it's approach but it allowed me to conserve energy and have a greater situational awareness than Ataru did in the heat of battle. Not only that, it made me a more effective leader among the other Students, they looked to me and didn't see this headstrong Guardian who goes at it all or nothing, but they saw a measured young Jedi whom they could learn from, that was my hope anyway. I guess you'd have to ask them if it worked."

He paused for a moment thinking about Arty's other comments and another verbal assault. It wasn't going to work, he should just give it up, not only was it ineffective against him at all, it was borderline childish at this point. His features remained neutral and he shrugged and took a step back, dropping into his Soresu stance again.

"If you really want to I suppose we can go again."

[Arty Orspach]

Arty blinked at the statement, every last word of it, it caused his eyebrows to shoot up in unison.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with my son?"

Sarcasm and jokes aside, he couldn't help but feel a deep pride in listening to Julian speak. He sounded like a true Jedi, a decade of being trapped in that armour and doing those...force knows what and he still sounded like a Jedi. A Jedi that Arty himself would be glad to follow into battle. It choked him up a bit just thinking about it in fact. He managed a smile and then...."If you really want to I suppose we can...."

Did he just? No! No way in the name of the force did he just offer to let Arty keep his dignity versus lose again. Did he have any idea who he was messing with? Arty ignited his blue blade again and took his Ataru stance and smirked. This time he wasn't going to play around, this time he wasn't giving an inch, he immediately closed the distance between the two of them and led with a flurry of powerful and violent attacks designed to keep Julian on the defensive the entire time...

[Julian Orspach]

There was a chuckle. Arty had missed out on so much of his life that it was no wonder that he didn't fully know him anymore, but that wasn't his fault, in fact it wasn't really anyone's fault except for maybe Johnathon's but still, even if he hadn't been around Arty would have still been off frozen somewhere? He really needed to ask about that story a bit more in depth once he got around to it because a lot of it was confusing.

Arty's Dun Moch had done nothing, but Julian's was so subtle that it didn't necessarily sound like Dun Moch, but it could be interpreted that way if one so chose to do so. Which clearly Arty had, it lured him into another series of swift and violent attacks as was his trademark. Arty was quite skilled with these attacks and was more than an accomplished swordsman, but it is quite possible that Julian may have had more experience than even Arty.

His lightsaber flew down to defend the attacks quickly, it was true Arty had been holding back a bit because he could see and feel that this was a full on assault whereas before, there was just a bit of hesitance about it. He backed up and allowed Arty to push him back, although defending against the attacks, he wasn't quite as on the defense as he appeared to be. Each impact with his blade had some give to it, which caused Arty to expend more effort and energy in his next attack. A redirect here, a give there, he patiently waited for the perfect mistake in the flurry, the one that would....THERE!

Another overpowered attack that offered just the right amount of energy to be turned back on itself. Arty's blade impacted Julians, he absorbed the blow and brought his blade up down and up towards Arty's wrists in a tight and fast arc...

[Arty Orspach]

Son of a....is all he could think as he felt and saw the redirect coming, without a second to lose he quickly took one hand off the lightsaber and leaned back moving his hands up and away. Julian's counter was quick, which meant had this been an actual fight he would have come within a hairs length of losing potentially both of his hands.

He knew this left his torso exposed so without a breath he quickly moved his lightsaber down into the ready position again staring at his son, he took a step back. This wasn't going to be nearly as easy as he thought, Julian was talented, the younger Jedi was clearly highly skilled in fighting something different was needed, but not something so drastic that he required switching forms. He took a deep breath and resumed his attack, but this time his strikes were more measured, more controlled, he took that extra time to ensure that he wasn't leaving a hole to be exploited again.

[Julian Orspach]

Denied. No matter, not every counterattack was guaranteed to be a success, it wasn't about landing a winning blow every single time, it was about patience and waiting for the right opportunities, multiple always presented themselves in a any combat situation, it was about recognizing them and acting. He took a breath and steadied himself bracing for the next flurry of attacks, a stab here, a slice there....parried....parried....and parried.

Then a forceful redirect of a parrry and Julian took a massive step back to avoid the blue blade slicing directly for his chest, there was a mistake of his own a nearly fatal one, but he did not have time to dwell on it or think about just to recognize it and incorporate the lesson into the fight. Arty had left himself open but it was a trap, he wanted Julian to stab at him but he didn't, instead he took one hand off of his hilt and sent a force push directly at Arty's torso to either knock him off balance or throw him back. Either would do but the latter was the safer situation than the former the former would require him to loosen his own defenses and focus on a purely offensive move.

[Arty Orspach]

He waited for the stab that he had been expecting, he was going to bring down his blade and hit the repulsor on Julians arm's ending the fight immediately and disarming him. He had seen through the defenses and recognized that with each attack Julian caused him to expend more and more energy and was slowly widening the holes in an effort to create one large enough to strike. Smart, but not smart enough my son.

As he prepared to bring his lightsaber down to sever, well at least fake sever his son's arms, he saw Julian move and felt a mighty push that felt like a punch in his stomach. He tried to brace but it was too late, he was sent back and flew onto his back, his lightsaber falling out of his hands and rolling to the side. There was a moment of pure adrenaline, he was slightly stunned, he had been force pushed before, but he just wans't expecting it in that moment, but that was not an excuse as anything could happen. The mistake was assuming, which he had been doing in both fights and clearly his assumptions were all wrong and that was frustrating.

This whole thing was frustrating. He shook his head and turned to call his lightsaber back to his hand.

[Julian Orspach]

Oh that is the least desirable outcome he thought as he immediately seized the opportunity and leaped in a force assisted motion to bring his lightsaber down at Arty who was still lying flat on his back and fumbling to get his lightsaber back in his hand. Julian saw the hilt flying towards Arty's hand as he made the leap, but he was committed at this point and this was a fight. It was a risk, but it was a measured risk and one that had to be taken given the situation, was it a risk he would take when leading other Jedi? In this situation? Maybe, given the fact that Arty was the one off guard here and the attack had not gone the way Arty wanted it to go, it did mean that Julian had the upper hand and that was the point, patience had paid off. He had the high ground and would be in the best position to disarm and or force a surrender.

[Arty Orspach]

He saw the blade coming down on him, the hilt of his own lightsaber finding his hand, and springing to life. The blue blade coming into contact with the other blue blade in a brilliant flash of light, he struggled to hold the attack off and tried to kick at Julian's leg, but he tried to push back, and it seemed he was given an inch only to have both blades shoved back down and then the repulsor went off and given the severity of the attack, it automatically extinguished both lightsabers to avoid potential energy. This had the unwanted side effect of causing Julian's fist still holding a lightsaber to be inadvertently driven into Arty's face.

"AHH!"

Arty rolled over to the side and stood up and clipped his own lightsaber to his belt, blood running down his nose and over to his lips. He glared at the younger Jedi for a moment, how had he just been beaten twice?! By a man whom he held as a child, he krifing changed his diapers for force's sake. Ugghh! He looked over at Erril and Ashlin before returning his gaze to Julian.

"This proves nothing!"

[Julian Orspach]

He felt his fist hit his father's face as he felt foward, sometimes the safety features weren't full proof, but they were better than training sabers, especially when you needed practice with a new weapon like Julian most definitely did. He watched his father stand up and could feel the frustration in his aura, he non-chalantly stood up himself and clipped the saber to his belt. His gaze was neutral as his own father glared at him in bewilderment. He felt a bit of pride for a brief moment recognizing that he had defeated his father in a duel twice. That said he knew why he had defeated him and that was something he was not as proud of.

"Of course not, it's just a duel. No one was trying to prove anything."

He offered a somewhat warm smile to Arty, it was one of those smiles that conveyed grace in winning, but it may or may not have sort of reminded Arty that he had just lost, but that couldn't actually be part of the intent could it? Maybe....his purple eyes drifted to Erril a bit wondering what he thought of the situation, Ashlin's thoughts would be equally interesting, but Ashlin did not train Arty Erril did and Julian would be interested in a secondary discussion with him in a bit if he so chose to indulge him.

"Sorry about the nose, these safety sensors are great for not killing each other but sometimes I think they're a bit dumb when it comes to not maiming each other."

[Arty Orspach]

He stopped and wiped some of the blood away from his face spit some more of it onto the ground. This whole situation had been frustrating, he didn't hold back in that last fight, not at all, he went at Julian full tilt as if he was actually his enemy. He found his mistakes and adapted to them quickly and then adjusted his technique and he was still beaten. On one hand he should be proud of his son, on the other was he really that rusty that his son beat him or was his son just that talented. He knew how he lost the first battle, he had underestimated his opponent and did not take it as seriously as he should. He thought as he stood there about the second fight again for a brief second as Julian tried to soften the blow. He was softening the blow now?

Arty cracked his neck and stood there in disbelief. Was this even real? Of course it was and despite the failures of the first fight, there is no reason he should have lost in the second. That technique had worked on countless enemies in countless duels, both training and real world. He had often used different techniques, but when facing someone in Soresu, his strategy had always been to overwhelm the defenses and it had generally worked. Never had he been beaten like this. It wasn't that he had lost, that was not it at least entirely, it's how he lost. Julian was clearly physically and mentally stronger than him and that was something, but there was something else, his technique was better. It didn't matter what form he used, it could have been any of them and it would have met the same thing. Julian was more skilled with a Lightsaber than Arty...and that was saying something. It's not that the second fight was overly close either, it was much closer than the first but when Arty really thought about it, aside from the close call Julian had with the single mistake that he made, there just wasn't a real chance that Arty was going to win except by a lucky strike.

"Yeah, you did well. Just took me by surprise....it was probably the decade in carbonite."

Arty smirked, but knew that was a lie. His ego was bruised and while he wasn't particular arrogant, he was proud of his skill with a lightsaber and did not expect any of this. It was a shock to the system more than anything. How did Julian get so kriffing good?! SERIOUSLY! How did anyone get that good?! He rolled his eyes at the situation, he had to make things...better.

"We'll give it a few weeks when I'm more recovered and then we'll try this again..."

Nailed it. That was a lie. He didn't need time to recover, he felt fine and he had trained in the brig for hours upon hours a day, he knew very well he was as close to one hundred percent that he was ever going to be. He needed the time to train, the time to analyze the fight more and search for weaknesses in his son's technique. He looked towards Erril for a moment and silently wondered to himself. Could he flippin beat Erril?! Not a question that he would have ever thought the answer could have been anything but no before today, but after that duel...he was decidedly undecided as to whether or not his former master could best Julian.

"That'd be interesting..."

Did I just say that out loud?! UGGGH!

"You and Erril should fight sometime...."

[Julian Orspach]

Julian stood there for a moment watching his father, he could see the wheels turning, he was visibly confused at the very least. Distraught might be the more accurate term. Julian however was a stark contrast, he stood there perfectly still, thoughts were going through his mind of course and not all of them were good thoughts.

He won. That was of course one of the thoughts, a thought that brought a bit more of a confusing sensation the more he thought about it. How had he won? Tactically of course, there was no way he could be as good as his father, much less better than him. Could he? No. He dismissed the idea immediately, but found his mind returning to it. It wasn't the carbonite, he'd been out of it for weeks and Julian knew that. Julian also knew that when Arty had faced Kaini on the Crusader that Kaini....he had defeated him as well, but there was something different about that, Arty's heart was not in that fight. Arty had recognized that Kaini was Julian and he was attempting to kill the Chancellor, not Kaini. Still, he remembered sensing that Arty was not at full power there, mentally or physically, he did not have that sensation today except in the first fight.

He took a breath and looked down at the ground to the right, his eyes then rose to meet his father's

"We can duel again, that would be fun. Next time, no Dun Moch, I'm much better at it than you..."

There it was, he half smiled, taking the smallest sip of pride from the cup of victory, but simultaneously admitting that he had deliberately and successfully tried to get into Arty's head with just a few well placed words designed like guided missiles to attack his subconscious. He did not necessarily like that he knew how to do this subtly and well, it was likely something he picked up as a Sith, but he supposed that after much meditation and perhaps guidance he could figure out how appropriate it was to implement in the right situations.

He felt his eyes drift to Erril again as Arty suggested they duel. That was a thought, surely Erril would absolutely obliterate him though, there was no way he was a match for Erril, but it might be fun and maybe he could learn a few things from him. He'd rather fight Nomi first and then maybe Jakhai if he was still well, then Erril. Dueling was fun, but he was still half worried that he might slip into Sith patterns if he wasn't careful, but it really hadn't happened today....so maybe that was unfounded.

"He'd probably destroy me, after all he trained you!"

[Erril Winterhold]

The duel unfolding in the middle of the small atrium in the temple on Tynna – though in truth it was more of a cloister, by that terminology – had begun as a reminiscing discussion of how things had been on Nexus, and then expanded into more general storytelling. Upon arrival at the small temple and activating its carbon-freezing hardware, they’d found that most of the Jedi in carbonite would need more advanced decarbonizing technology to be properly “thawed”, and at least four of them would require emergency surgery the second they were revived. There were five slabs in good enough condition to thaw immediately, and they’d only managed to revive three Jedi before the machinery suffered from a terminal feedback issue in its processing core and broke down. It didn’t need new parts to work again, but it did need about thirteen years’ worth of TLC, and so while Erril and Master Kirzan took their time carefully rewriting portions of the base code, and some un-identified contact of the Erril’s was off acquiring machinery upgrades by way of paying up on a favor that hadn’t been cashed in for almost 20 years now, there wasn’t much to do but sit and talk in the crisp, wintry Tynnan air. Talking led to storytelling; storytelling led to outlandish assertions; outlandish assertions led to cajoling; cajoling led to Arty telling Julian to “put up or shut up” when the latter had commented almost out of hand amid the laughter that the former’s claims of prowess didn’t seem as difficult as they were being made to sound.

And so Erril had sat with the other Jedi, wrapped in a heavy blanket to fend off the cold air biting at his thin body, and watched as the circle was completed, and the learner became the master.

The outcome was unexpected to be sure, but Erril was intrigued even beyond the simple dark horse victory. He could see a few issues with Arty’s form, some of which he’d known to exist since the man had been his padawan, and a few others he noticed only now, and suspected to be of a more recent origin. However, it was Julian who intrigued him the most. The way he had handled Arty’s first berserker-like attack was satisfying to watch, but not particularly remarkable given its relative sloppiness. However when Arty realized that Julian wasn’t a little child to be toyed with or a monster to be carved open, and actually tried to beat him properly, that was when things got interesting.

During his period of seclusion on Naboo, Erril had made a deep study of the Seven Forms while collaborating with Andrew James Valor to try and render a true Form VIII. By the end of that study, He’d concluded that Ataru was, in all but respects apart from its spatio-mechanical philosophy, an inferior lightsaber form. There was nothing it could do that other forms couldn’t, except for disorient a single opponent under the right circumstances. In Erril’s opinion it was little more than a milestone in the grand scheme of things, but certain Jedi like Aero, Arty, and even his own daughter made respectable use of it, so he usually kept his teeth together on the subject. But the way Julian dissected Arty’s fighting style – Arty who had crossed blades with Erril enough to know well the tendencies of Soresu – caused the elder swordsman to pay closer attention.

The bout lasted almost three minutes – a practically impossible number for steel-on-steel swordsmen, but even by Jedi standards it was a timespan that belied the stamina of both combatants, and it gave Erril ample time to observe Julian put his father through the paces, and ultimately exploit the inevitable tiny openings in Arty’s tenacious style, the way Soresu was meant to. It was a perfect demonstration of Form III; a demonstration of the hurricane’s calm eye remaining still amid the winds, but it was more than that, too. As Erril watched Julian, he was reminded of the first time he’d watched Valor cross blades with another swordsman. There were errors, but they were few, and far between, and veiled behind a mesh of lightning-fast refrains. Julian was a technical master of Form III, and probably didn’t even know that his skills were ready for the next challenge. The older Master was deep enough in his introspection by the end of the duel that he didn’t really register the first glance his way amid his ponderings. However, when Ashlin nudged him he perked up again and more completely processed the words his ears had heard.

Erril glanced between Arty and Julian more openly again, resuming his customary expression of polite interest. “I would sooner destroy a stained glass window than an artist like yourself, but since you bring it up…”

Erril leaned back, running a thoughtful hand along his stubbly jawline as he continued to glance between the two of them. His eyes fell on Arty, the slightly winded but still straight-backed man who had been his pupil at one time, and whom he was now proud to call a peer... but He couldn't help himself, the door was wide open.

“Arty I noticed that your fulcrum has shifted a little bit away from your shoulders down more into your hips. You need to bring that back up and get your shoulders moving wide again; Ataru is one of the only forms that doesn’t benefit from any kind of tight center stance.”

He glanced over at Julian. “Now there’s a reason for him having that issue, mind you. During the last couple of years on Nexus, after we figured out that we had to cleanse the monsters rather than kill them, we had to change up our combat tactics, and your father proved to be one hell of a grappler once he put his mind to fighting without a sword – creatures anywhere from half his size to thrice his size were just grist for the mill most days. That lowered stance is really important when you’re using… actually you know what? I might indulge with you in a moment, but I think he could show you what I’m talking about better than I could explain it.”

Erril raised his hand as one might in a classroom, and the air around the assembled Jedi rumbled in dynamic consent to his request; both the sparring partners’ safety belts snapped off – along with their lightsabers – and came to a halt in the air before him. Erril ignored the objects to had come so suddenly at his beckoning, however, and gestured at the father and son again, motioning them toward each other.

“One more time, if you please.”

As Erril plucked the belts and sabers out of the air and set them on the ground before him, he leaned forward with interest again. He didn’t doubt that Julian was an accomplished unarmed fighter as well but he was built like a swordsman from head to toe. Given the reasons he'd already mentioned, and especially given that Ataru was far better utilized as an unarmed style than as a lightsaber form, Erril felt fairly confident he knew who was going to win this round. What he really wanted was to see was how Julian would adapt to a sudden change in the rules of engagement, and this was as close as he could get for now. Adapting to disadvantages in combat was an important step on the path to creating new advantages. Controlling the eye of the storm was one thing; controlling both the eye and the unrelenting arms simultaneously was something else.

[Arty Orspach]

Arty had stood there wanting nothing more to leave for a shower so he could sit and soak in the hot water, if not just to wash the blood and sweat away but to contemplate what life must have been like for Julian in those years at the temple before he became a Sith. He breathed in forgetting his near broken nose for a second, the blood tickled the back of his throat as it was pulled up his nose and flowed down his throat. He coughed instinctively and covered his mouth, some blood covering his left palm. He placed the mechanical index finger of his right hand against his nostril and blew out through his nose. The pain was sharp and he was quite sure that the stars in front of his eyes were quite impressive as the dark red, nearly black goblet of a blood clot flew from his open nostril and landed on the floor in front of him as he then wiped the remaining bit of blood from his upper lip and wiped it on his pants.

He quirked an eyebrow at his former Master and nodded regarding the fulcrum statement, that most certainly made sense, and was a damned good excuse if he did say so himself. He wished he had thought of it mere moments ago, but excuse or not it was legitimate. Julian had spent the years fighting people, probably droids as well but predominantly people and he had imagined that not a small amount of them were wielders of a lightsaber. He stopped for a moment and looked at his son understanding what that had meant. Sure some of those wielding lightsabers had been assorted darksiders and Sith, but after a certain point they were all mostly Jedi and Julian was the one standing here and now, Arty knew what that meant, he nodded almost quietly to himself in understanding for a moment. He wished he could have been there for him, but that was enough of the sappy thoughts. They were Jedi and here they all stood as such.

He smirked for a moment and tilted his head back as he felt the blood trying to make an escape down his upper lip again. Nope. Not going to happen.

He breathed in several times deeply through his nose knowing this would have the benefit of drying the blood and stopping the bleeding after a few moments.

"I guess I hadn't noticed my stance before, stupid mistake on my end not noticing the changes that the lovely Nexus world had on me."

Then of course there was the suggestion that the two of them should fight again and Arty thought back to the carbonite and Tibanna and the fact that Erril had not fared all that well with the gas. In fact none of the Sephi did too well, Erril was sickly constantly, Luka damn near died on one occasion and Ashlin wasn't doing so well either. His eyebrow shot way up and he cocked his head to the side and looked at Erril as if he had snakes coming out of his head.

"Did the carbonite damage your brain? You really want to see me get hurt even more is that it?"

Arty crossed his arms in front of him, the servos controlling his robotic hand hummed quietly as he tapped his finger on his other arm.

"Ever since that electric door, I swear if I didn't know better you enjoy seeing me get mildly hurt."

He shook his head in disbelief and took a defensive stance and grinned at Julian.

"Why not? Maybe you won't be so lucky this time. "

[Ashlin Li]

With only a little residual hesitancy on her part, Ashlin had gravitated to sit beside Erril during the competitive skills display; or whatever one might call the pride match happening between the two Orspaches. All things considered, her positional or conversational closeness with the elder Sephi-blooded Jedi was still a very new precedent in her life, and one that she’d never thought much about or imagined appreciating as much as she found herself doing in recent days.

All conversations aside, though, from the moment the pair of blue lightsaber blades sprang to life, Ashlin had found her attention occupied with watching the two swordsmen.

Arty was four years older than she was. He’d been knighted long before her. They’d never been in a class grade or much of a cohort together, but she had still known him for the entire length of her memory.

Julian was now two years younger than she was; as accurately as she’d been able to work out for the moment anyway. He was her younger sister’s childhood friend, and she’d barely known him at all… Until a week or so and a lifetime ago, to an extreme that she’d barely even scratched the surface of processing in her own mind.

Whatever thoughts she had about the match outcomes were kept politely unspoken behind her fascinated expression. It was Erril’s critique they were both much more interested in anyway, and for good reason. Although... when Erril then slipped into a very masterly mood—speaking of which, Ashlin was distinctly reminded of a certain very recent lightsaber repair conversation they’d had together—and took a more authoritative hand on the situation while he instructed the pair to do it again… Ashlin let an amused half-smile tug on her mouth and found herself shifting two feet over on the bench to distinctly dissociate herself from the elder Jedi. Not too far from him, though. She was finding that she rather liked sitting with the teachers.

A bone-chilling wind cut their direction and neither of two duelists seemed to be bothered, which made sense of course. But… typical.

“Well… you are very good at getting mildly hurt, Arty. It’s actually very impressive.”

She kept the amused expression on her face while her gray-blue eyes flicked briefly to catch Julian’s, with the subtlest impression of protectiveness while she glanced him over. But he looked well, too.

Ashlin sipped from her thermos of hot tea.

[Arty Orspach]

Arty raised an eyebrow at Ashlin who had scooched in closer to Erril and then who moved away from him once Erril spoke. Arty absolutely didn't dislike Ashlin, she had always had a decent rapport with him. However, her overall behavior as of late had bene rubbing him the wrong way on several occasions, it wasn't anything overally wrong per say, but it was like fingernails on a chalk board at times with the way she was doing certain things. So what was normally considered somewhat playful banter between the two fell into the same ilk as the annoyances and it just hit the Jedi Knight's ear wrong. Wait? Was he a Master now? He had indeed trained a Padwawan to Knighthood, but the council hardly had what one would call meetings on the Nexus world or Tynna.

Arty rolled his eyes at her and then smirked.

"Oh don't I know it. It's one of my many talents like, oh I don't know...telekinesis."

He paused.

"Oh, how arrogant of me to suggest that's a talent. All Jedi are experts at that, so rude of me to suggest that Jedi training one-oh-one is a special talent..."

Arty stared blankly at Ashlin for a long moment and then blinked and looked towards Julian and Erril for a moment but didn't say another word.

[Julian Orspach]

Julian looked between Erril and Arty for a moment. He listened to everything that Master Winterhold had to say and nodded respectfully. If he was being honest with himself he was still mentally somewhere in senior Padawan mode when it came to taking instruction from someone like Erril. He was a Knight and that was fine he was more than capable but he hadn't been one for long and in fact had more experience as a Sith than a Knight, a thought that always brought a chill to his spine the more and more he started to dissect the situation. He wasn't going to say no to Erril, but the simple truth of the matter is that he was not sure how much he enjoyed dueling anymore, he was of course a Guardian and it was his job to keep up on his skills, that much he knew. The thing that kept pegging at his mind at first in a subtle manner and now in a more persistent way was that he had beaten his Father. What did that mean? He listened to Erril call him an Artist and it struck a weird chord with him. He breathed in through his nose and exhaled taking it for what it was, a compliment.

"Yes Master and thank you. I don't know whether I should be happy I wasn't with you on the Nexus planet or not. I know he's a good grappler he showed me some stuff when I was a youngling, before Master Taran took me as his Padawan and before he took Jarik. I remember one time, I think he broke my cheekbone when I was about nine. I don't remember which of the healers fixed it, it was either you or Luka..."

His eyes drifted down and to right for a brief moment as he looked at the ground and then back up at Erril and his father just in time to hear the banter between Ashlin and his father. He snickered a bit at Ashlin's comment but it was Arty's that made his eyebrows narrow a bit. All of the lack of wanting to actually duel left him for a moment as he stared at his father.

"That seems relatively uncalled for, she did save your son, meaning me from the Dark Side using nothing but some Force stuff that I don't know that I'll ever come close to replicating in even a remedial fashion...",

The half Zeltron Jedi Knight cracked his knuckles, his purple eyes narrowed and he felt a bit of anger brewing in his stomach. Immediately he tried to push that away and focus himself, anger had been a source of power for so long that he in this moment struggled a bit to refrain from it. He loved his father, but sometimes he was remembering that Arty had no filter to speak of when it came to this sort of thing. Julian thought about what it must of been like for someone as hot headed as Jarik to be the Padawan of Arty, no doubt that the banter Jarik received from Arty cut straight to the core when it needed to.

"Your move old man."

Julian closed what little distance there was between the two of them and took a stable defensive stance.

[Ashlin Li]

“No, no. Now it’s my move still.”

Ashlin had met Arty’s stare with a shrug and a quiet look until he glanced away. She intended to finish repairing things with him sooner or later. Not… right now, maybe. Apparently they were going to fight a little more first. But, probably sooner than later.

Sighing, Ashlin leaned over and picked Arty’s weapon from the air where Erril had summoned it. Taking it in the first place was not quite her style, but now it was already right here, so... She dropped it into her other hand. Deftly cracking open the hilt casing with one of the smart little tools from her pocket, Ashlin removed the power cell, and then promptly dismantled the entire thing down to the crystal mounts, energy field regulators, and the focusing assembly. She discarded the mounts and regulators on the wooden bench beside her with a few barely-audible clinks as they joined the other hilt components, and turned her attention back to the crystal. Ashlin dropped the Guardian blue heart of it and the smaller focusing crystals into her palm and let the clear winter sunlight shine luminously through them like the bit of perfect beauty they were, casting pale blue rainbows of prism lights on her skin and the atrium tile. The Force was here, and the world was almost as cold and perfect as Ilum for a moment.

She took a piece from the primary crystal mount back into hand and replaced the soul of the weapon into the first part of its setting with respectful fingertips and then looked back over at Arty.

“Don’t get too mad at me, but it would be kind of fun to see you put this together again and retune it without any of the Jedi 101.”

The rest of the housing pieces for the energy chamber flew back into her palm along with the focusing crystals, then the remainder of the inner components, which neatly rewired and replaced themselves all into correct positions until the power cell and field conductors were the last to join them. The hilt casing and handgrip reassembled themselves in reverse order of her dismantling the weapon.

“It would have been rude, though. Although if you want to, I guess we could race sometime. That might be fun for both of us, actually.”

The brown-haired young woman shrugged and let the last of her illusion fade away, setting the unaltered lightsaber hilt down on the bench in the space she’d just vacated beside Erril. She pushed her braided hair back behind her shoulder and shared an appreciative, but perfectly fine, strand of emotion with just Julian. They were all okay. Besides that, she was genuinely interested in seeing how this turned out.

“I'm done, thank you.”

[Erril Winterhold]

It only took a few moments for Erril to realize he may have chose in err when he opted to assume his instructional tone. It was a very easy thing for him to do after nearly four decades of studying and teaching swordsmanship, but on this particular occasion he wondered if he’d failed to read the room. He was no empath, but even so, he observed a distinct shift in the mood almost in perfect time with his insertion into the happenings, and especially with his assertion that Arty and Julian should spar one more time before he considered picking up a lightsaber himself. But there appeared to be quite a bit bubbling under the surface of which he hadn’t been aware.

The elder master exchanged a covert glance with Master Kirzan to see if the other more seasoned Jedi had any helpful perspective to offer, but the expression he discovered informed him that he was not going to be counting on any back-up.

Somewhat at a loss over the accumulation of exchanges, Erril was about to offer that no additional sparring was needed if people were feeling more like taking a dinner break when Ashlin declared her intent to push forward, and then began to disassemble Arty’s lightsaber right before their eyes. Ashlin was undeniably capable regarding assembly and maintenance of lightsabers, as Erril had most recently witnessed during their brief stint on the Crusader, but as she broke their friend’s lightsaber down to its most basic components, he couldn’t help but feel as though she’d overstepped her privilege to a degree. The amount of energy most Jedi put into fine-tuning their lightsabers even after it had been fully assembled was tantamount to a painter revisiting a finished work over the course of a few months to satisfy their need to adjust based on time spent ruminating over the – and then she began telekinetically reassembling the weapon, the way the padawans of old had done in the halls of Ilum’s sanctuary. A relatively simple feat for some, but practical impossibility for Ashlin. And yet, whether it was because he was distracted by other factors, or simply trusting his eyes too much, Erril had been in no way aware of what was actually occurring beside him.

The old-feeling Jedi pursed his lips, failing to hide a self-conscious smirk as he realized he'd just stumbled over what was probably more of a parlor trick in the grand scheme of Ashlin's abilities. Everyone had their own skills.

He glanced up at Ashlin’s face when she observed that she was done, but didn’t seek her eyes out. Nor did he particularly try to make eye contact with Arty or Julian when he glanced across their faces either. In that moment he felt less like a master and more like an uncle – one with no dog in the fight either, at the moment.