The first duel

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Anbira felt out of place in the Whaladon's cargo hold. He saw other Jedi in the midst of their training, and long before he arrived, the cacophony of thrums of dozens of lightsabers could be heard, swinging, clashing, striking, and so forth.

Anbira was no stranger to a lightsaber. He'd carried one now for seven years, and on more occasions than he could remember, relied upon it to deliver him from destruction. But that was in the face of the Imperial war machine on Felucia. For all their might, stormtroopers and walkers were one thing to deal with. He'd never prepared for the contingency of facing a force adept or Sith in battle. There was simply no way to do this, aside from rigorous practice in kata. Drill was one thing, but experience in a duel was another entirely.

Content to watch for now, Anbira stood at a far wall, hand brushing through his beard as he looked from Jedi to Jedi.

[Abarai Loki]

"The observation lounge is two decks up," the voice came from a boy nearby, "This is a place of sweat and blood."

In his arms was a bundle of wooden swords and sat atop the pile a couple of training remotes. He placed them on the floor and rose again to his full, and rather limited height, eyes falling at last upon the bearded stranger. A tilt of his head, allowing the boy to survey him down his nose, at length he spoke again.

"You. You're the gibberish-speaking pilot."

[Anbira Hicchoru]

With a thin smile, Anbira detached himself from the wall, approaching the diminuitive Jedi. He stopped, and gave a slight bow.

"And you must be Abarai Loki."

Word traveled fast on a ship of this size, and it didn't take Anbira much listening around to hear infamous words about the no-nonsense Jedi taskmaster.

"I'm here to train. Is there a bias against gibberish-speaking pilots I should know of in advance?"

[Abarai Loki]

The bow did not go unreturned, in greeting Loki gave a curt nod, wandering eyes inspecting him from top to bottom. Then, disregarding his question, said:

"You already have my name. Grant me yours, and we shall see to your training."

[Anbira Hicchoru]

"My name's Anbira Hicchoru."

He paused, looking beyond Loki a bit in thought. Adding the title Jedi Knight seemed tacky and redundant in this place. Returning his attention to Loki, he continued.

"I have the unique problem of no shortage of lightsaber combat, but lack any practical experience in a saber duel. I'm here to rectify that."

[Abarai Loki]

"You are not alone in your inexperience, Anbira Hicchoru. The lightsaber was almost shunted from existance. Owning one was a privilage but having another with which to cross blades... a gift."

There was an immediate appreciation in finding someone with a desire for self-improvement, it was a concept close to the boy's heart and something he deeply understood. Anbira's attire, a hodgepodge of traditional robing and Imperial armour, was a source of much interest for Loki and after another cursory glance, addressed him with a note of recognition.

"You are a soldier. Tell me about your combat experience."

[Anbira Hicchoru]

It was something he was becoming used to explaining, so the stigma of doing so was dulled.

"Prior to my, awakening, I was an enlisted trooper in Imperial Recon. Four total years of service, one active year of combat duty with the Felucia garrison."

He paused, to see if Loki had any questions of this before continuing.

[Abarai Loki]

"One year," he mused, wrestling with disappointment. Anbira's account of his service was spartan, for if there was one time he craved detail... he would not push the issue.

"Felucia. I do not know it. Show me your weapon."

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Anbira presented his saber forward, holding the weapon horizontally for the younger Jedi to inspect. Unlike some sabers, the aesthetics of Anbira's weapon were spartan and brutalist, as if he had put the thing together entirely from salvage and stolen items of opportunity, which was true. It was, however, clean and showing a good amount of care going into its upkeep.

[Abarai Loki]

Loki mirrored Anbira, pairing their lightsabers for inspection. His weapon was, by comparison, entirely minimal with a smooth surface and no awkward protruding activation plates or frequency dials. It was exactly thirty centimeters long with a smaller girth to accomodate his grip, the emitter was sunken, and spanning half the length of the hilt was a series of small intricate characters engraved lovingly into the metal.

"Our lightsabers tell a story. A Jedi carries his weapon through life, and it is in turn shaped by his life, as he is shaped by it. You are a resourceful man, Anbira Hicchoru. A survivor."

He looked up with a glimmer in his eyes:

"Show me."

[Anbira Hicchoru]

A moment of hesitation appeared in Anbira's expression, but a non-corporeal voice filled his ears.

"Size matters not. Forgotten, have you?"

Caring not to respond to the ethereal reminder, Anbira drew back, squaring his stance as he brought his weapon to bear in a hold high over his head, the blue blade sparking to life with the clarity of a thunderbolt.

Trusting in the force and eschewing his doubts, Anbira brought his weapon down in a decisive overhanded strike, with enough force to shake anybody who cared to deflect it. It was a tenet of Djem So, a technique he knew by fundamentals but not by experience.

[Abarai Loki]

A flash of blue in his icy gaze, Loki's lightsaber sprung forth. In a smart quarter turn he avoided the brutal slash and, blades stroking, allowed his weapon to snake around that of his opponent. Now he applied strength and forced Anbira's lightsaber down, using its own momentum, and at some point during the angry sizzling duet, his direction changed. Released like an arrow, the seering tip of his blade lunged for Anbira's throat.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Surprised at the deft redirection of his weapon, Anbira sprung into reaction. Rather than parry or block, he moved with the redirection, sliding his blade to the side, drawing it up, and with a quarter step around, he pivoted at the hip to drive a second attack, which would either swat Loki's blade aside, or end this duel quickly. Counter-attack always. Don't bother defending or dodging. The best defense is a good offense.

[Abarai Loki]

The advance of Loki's blade ended to prevent Anbira removing an arm. Instead he allowed his opponent's strength to run in its course, redirecting his blade, and then again he took control. In an instant, his weapon came full circle over his head for a decapitating blow from the opposite side.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Unable to recover in time to swat down Loki's strike, Anbira knelt low to let the blade pass over him. The stink of ozone melded with another smell as a few scant inches of Anbira's mane were severed by Loki's blade, and fluttered to the ground with a smoky trail. Inverting the handle of his saber, Anbira rose in a sweeping uppercut, which he righted again at the apex to deliver another forceful chop, both strikes carrying enough force to clear his enemy from his center.

[Abarai Loki]

The uppercut was a smart move but too clumsy to throw the boy off balance, and in his heavy offense, Anbira had provided him a critical opening. A sharp pivot came with the close of his last attack, bringing him dangerously close to his opponent and his sweeping uppercut, it passed his ear with a rush of air. Their shoulders brushed as he completed a second turn, bringing him full circle behind Anbira, and now pressed back-to-back, Loki folded his weapon in his hands and delivered a reverse stab intent on piercing the Jedi's heart.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Anbira saw the pivot, but his weight was already committed to the force of his uppercut. There would be no way for him to recover and counter the backstrike. Rather than attempt and fail, he moved with the momentum forward, rolling his shoulder into a tumble to carry him a body's distance from the boy Jedi. Quick up to his feet, he reignited his saber, squaring his guard and holding the blade at center, angled forward. Inwardly, he cursed his loss of momentum, and his inability to push a counterattack in the scant moment the boy had shown his back to him.

Now they were again facing off, this time on Loki's terms.

[Abarai Loki]

"So you can dodge."

The tone in Loki's voice suggested he could very well have been giving a lecture on corporate banking, but beneath that cool surface he felt his entire body quiver with anticipation. It coursed through him like electricity and took a gargantuan degree of control to prevent it surfacing; a turn in his lips, a light in his eyes. Months had passed since his last real challenge, and whether or not Anbira's swordsmanship would slake his hunger it would surely, at least, provide a welcome snack. He took note of his posture.

"Djem So. A novice duelist would think twice before utilizing such an aggressive style in combat. Clearly, you are not without confidence."

He took a step and lightsabers crashed, the distance between the duelists closed in a heartbeat. Anbira's blade had not parried his attack but instead Loki had brought his weapon to bear upon it in a bid to test himself against his opponent and his mighty strength.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

"It would seem wrong to make a habit of it."

Anbira showed the barest of smirks, almost unnoticed through his thick beard. His long hair, now more disheveled, cast a few errant strands over his face. He gave a curt shake of his head to cast his locks to the side, never taking his eyes off Loki.

"I've had a long time to study for the exam, let's say."

Which was true. He knew the theory of Djem So extensively. This was the very first time he could run the experiment, so to speak.

Eager to meet the challenge, Anbira chopped forward to intercept Loki's strike. He already knew enough from what he'd seen that it would be instantly unwise to underestimate the Jedi on account of age or stature. His ears echoed with a million admonitions from Master Yoda of such hubris. He rooted his center, keeping a strong base as he pressed on with the aid of the Force. He knew that's exactly what his opponent would also do. The show of strength did not disappoint at all.

If nobody in the hangar was watching the duel before, they certainly were now. A wide semi-circle of various Jedi students and other bystanders was gathering, giving plenty of space out of respect, but unable to tear themselves away from the two duelists, pressed into the crush of locked lightsabers. The plasma blades, unyielding to each other but unable to budge, screamed and crackled against each other, singing protestations that seemed to come from the souls of each fighter.

"You must know by my style, I can't abide a stalemate."

Losing an inch against Loki, he grimaced, turning into a smile.

"My instinct is to attack. You paint a difficult target."

Repositioning his center, Anbira righted the balance again. Then, considering his position relative to Loki's, and the capabilities of reach, he pushed forward with his rear bracing leg, stepping forward into a press kick he hoped would find his opponent's center, break the stalemate, and potentially put him to the ground, allowing a coup de grace stroke.

[Abarai Loki]

Loki reacted, accepting the brunt of the blow in order to keep sabers locked until the last moment, and they broke. So that was the extent of his strength. Where he had poured all his power into holding his opponent at bay, blade to blade, Anbira yet had the capacity to right himself and deliver such a crushing blow. The force of the kick lifted the smaller Jedi off balance, and he twisted to minimalise its impact, forward foot now falling to the rear. There was not a flinch but the slightest flaring of the nostrils indicated a shortness of breath and the inevitable stabbing pain that accompanied it.

He had lost ground to his opponent and found himself pushed backwards in full anticipation of the next onslaught. He would weather it, accepting his power, and in doing so gain an understanding of Anbira's abilities with a display of absolute confidence in his own.