We Were Friends, Once(Rugs)

[Jazen]

Tylan didn't even need to try to feel Locke's growing irritation at this point; the boy was practically telegraphing it now, through his actions and most notably, though the subtle hints of the body. That didn't stop Tylan from lightly running those Force fingers across Locke, to get a true feel from how angry he was growing. Not that many Jedi knew, but Tylan was very good at feeling out another Force user without them knowing, without them feeling that light touch silently probing their emotions. It was an effective tool to use....when used for the right reasons.

To his disappointment, the fury he felt in Locke was much higher then he would have wanted. The boy was frustrated at his inability to connect with Tylan....but why would that bother him so? Tylan had never expected Locke to be able to hit him, Tylan was still a few years off before that might happen. But he's surprised Tylan and his improvement was clear. Why was it that everyone based their level of skill off of how many times they could make a hit? True, if you could not hit your foe it did no good...but losing control over your emotions would serve you not.

Putting that aside as something they would need to discuss later, Tylan turned his attention to the almost beautiful counter Locke threw up to prevent another embarrassing trip to the dirt. The time was little between the throw and the push. Locke was, for the most part, didn't resist the throw at all. But it a move many would consider a mistake, Locke made it work. By not resisting, he did not get tugged from his feet; instead going with the move made it easier for him to adjust his body.

And to finish his counter, when Tylan threw that powerful push of air and mythical energy at him, Locke threw one back. But not a push, nor a pull...but a wall. A wall of blue, pure energy that deflected Tylan's push to either side as simply as a rock deflecting water. The flawless counter made Tylan smile, even as he spoke his words. But the situation was not lost on him, as Locke's counter had put him within a short striking distance. So Tylan quickly made sure his stance was firm, his saber ready and his mind prepared for what the boy would show next.

"Locke, you're getting frustrated. You must relax, focus. Your first moves were better then this." He huffed a chuckle at Locke's....well, he assumed it was a compliment in a way, though Locke sounded angry when he said it. "Well, if you know it, then show it. But I thank you for the compliment."

Tylan almost stopped what he was saying next in the middle of the sentence as Locke lunged at him again. Almost. As his blade came up to parry Locke's, he continued speaking, deflecting the blows with the same...well, not the same ease as before, but still not much of a problem for the Soresu master. But he furrowed his brow nonetheless at Locke's newest assault....mostly because it lacked the grace, the beauty, the calmness that the first exchange had been gifted to have. His blows were wild, frantic...fast too, but without the flowing grace from before, they were nowhere near as effective. The blows were heavy, but with Locke's frustration growing, that made them easier to predict at be in position to counter.

And like Locke, Tylan abandoned the notion of the circle. The boy had proved he could make Tylan move. Now it was time to get a little more serious....if only to prove to Locke how being calm in a fight would be more effective then flailing about. "Locke....before you were," he parried the blow to the side, "moving perfectly, with a.." he deflected a blow up, "true credit to your style." He kept his next words to himself as Locke suddenly yanked on him, a move which Tylan countered by bracing his feet and using a push of his own to counter the pull forward...pushing against the ground to, in a way, blow himself back.

Either by luck or plan, Locke followed up with a push of his own. Combined with the push from before, it would have thrown Tylan stumbling back. In fact, it did....but not the way Locke would have hoped. Tylan did spin and stagger....but his stance was relocked almost as quickly, his knees bracing as the heavy handed blow Locke threw his way struck out for what would have been his back before. It was not a Makashi blow...no, this was clearly Shii-cho. Tylan's blade came up from the diagonal...it was time for Locke to see what his frustration gained him. Tylan's muscle's hardened, his arms surged forth with the power of the Force at their back...and he slammed his blue blade into Locke's before it could come down.

But the blade only used enough Force to make sure Tylan's blade was not slammed aside by Locke's. For only a moment the power was equal...and then Tylan let the power weaken on his part, let his blade sag to the side to let Locke's saber slide off to the side. And then Tylan twirled his blade around in his hand and snapped it towards the back of Locke's hand, a disarming move if the blade were really active. Then his knee came up, aimed to strike Locke in the gut, which Tylan would follow suit with push from his left. Not from straight on, no....but swinging down from below towards Locke.

And the whole time, Tylan whispered, mumbled a series of words that Locke would not like. Nor did Tylan. "The flailing of an angry child."

[Rugs]

Locke didn't listen to Tylan before he attacked. He didn't listen as Tylan tried to urge him to calm down as he attacked him. He just attacked. Wildly. Furiously. Viciously. He didn't care about what it was Tylan had to say right now. He didn't care about his form being pretty or graceful. The only thing he cared about now, with a white-hot single-mindedness, was scoring a touch on Tylan. Grace and beauty in a fight wouldn't serve him anything if he couldn't stop his foe. Nor would making steps to get stronger, if every step he took never got him to where he wanted to be. And he'd known Tylan so long. Surely he could at least hit him once, right?

If being raw and brutish was what it would take to accomplish his goal here, then by damn, he'd do it.

Their blades flashed as the duelists danced, and Locke called on the Force to change the tempo. Tylan was ready for it, or reacted so fast he seemed to be ready for it. So Locke pushed. Tylan was ready for that too. That wasn't supposed to happen. How could he be this good? Or how could Locke still be this bad?

He slammed his saber's blade down at Tylan savagely, as if he were actually trying to kill the man, but it was caught. Locke could feel the strength Tylan had behind the block. He struggled to Force the blue lightsaber back, but he couldn't. Silently he cursed the frailness that his body had given him. If he had been strong like the other students, he could do it. But he had not been. No, he'd been the weak one.

And so it was that he still blindly struggled against Tylan's blade as his own got shunted to the side. Any other time, he might have noticed it happening, would have pulled his blade back so as not to be trapped, but not now. In his sudden zeal to try to prove to Tylan what he could do, he'd created the means for his own defeat.

The strength he put behind his efforts forced his blade down to the side. He staggered forward with it, trying to recover. It was already too late. He felt the sting of Tylan's blade graze across the back of his hand--the hand that would be gone or crippled if this was a real fight.

Before he could fully stop himself, he felt something slam into his stomach. He gasped loudly from the pain of the blow, started to hunch over as his lightsaber fell from his hand. As he doubled over, trying to breath, the Force swept into him from below. There was nothing he could do to defend or respond to it. The blast knocked him flat on his back.

Again.

As he lay there on the ground, breathing hard from the knee to the stomach and from the effort of attacking so wildly, he became aware of Tylan standing over him. The Knight's lightsaber moved in his hand until the tip hovered barely an inch above Locke's chest.

"The flailing of an angry child," he muttered softly as he stood there, blade held out above Locke. He'd won. Again. Locke couldn't tell if Tylan sounded disappointed or if he was just imagining it. Either way, he suddenly found it hard to look him in the eye, and turned his gaze to stare off to his right.

"I... I just wanted to get a hit on you," Locke said softly, suddenly feeling ashamed of the way he'd let his temper run away with him. "I didn't think..." He shook his head, and looked back up at Tylan, feeling almost as stupid as he did when he let Tiino down in a similar way. "I'm sorry."

[Jazen]

Tylan had hoped that his latest series of attacks upon the angry Locke would not succeed. Somewhere in his mind he hoped that the lad would pull a surprise trick, have masked a ruse of anger to catch the elder Jedi off guard. But he knew, both from his experience and the touch of the Force he'd lapped to Locke before, that this was not the case. That kind of anger was the truest form of it...and there was no underlying plots in that mind, no schemes at all. It was what it was.

A pity....it would have been a most impressive trick. He'd have to remember that one. It could come in handy later.

Locke's saber dropped to the floor when the sting of Tylan's saber met the back of his hand, the blade fizzing out. Before the hilt could even clang against the courtyard floor, Tylan's knee met flesh and bone as it came up hard into Locke's stomach. Not hard enough to shatter the bone mind you, but enough to have him gasping for the air he was suddenly going to find himself devoid of. And when a man was devoid of air, taking any action in that state would be woefully painful. Most men couldn't. And Locke was no exception. That force blow hit clean and true, sending the gasping boy up into the air for the briefest of moments before he ended up flat on his back.

If that didn't take the snuff out of him, the boy had more problems then he expected. To ensure that Locke stayed down, for his sake more then anything, Tylan lowered his saber towards his chest, holding it but only a few inches from his chest. A signal that this phase of the duel was over...and the time to reflect was now.

Obviously getting knocked on his behind had finally cleared his head....or maybe hitting his head on the floor did that. Tylan didn't care really what of his attack had knocked the anger clean from the boy....so long as it was knocked clean. And from what he sensed...yes, there was no anger left lingering there. That fury had subsided, the touch of embarrassment and shame taking its place at the table. That was good....at least he'd had the sense to admit he'd made a mistake. With a smile, Tylan's saber powered down and a friendly hand reached down to help lift Locke back to his feet.

"Wanting to get a hit is never a bad thing Locke. But getting angry about not being able to, to let frustration and anger cloud a rational mind, is what will be your failing. By thinking clearly, keeping your mind calm and collected in the heat of battle, will you be able to see your foes weak points and take advantage of them. Losing that will allow your foe to see yours. And to those that can reach into your mind...letting your emotions get the better of you will make them the most dangerous foe of all. Remember Locke; a Jedi rules his emotions, not the other way around. It's how we remain true to the path and allude the call of darkness.

Besides, if you try using Soresu with that state of mind, your defense will be as frail as a wilted tree. Be as still as tree and as calm as a midsummer breeze you must be, if Soresu is to be any use to you at all." Smiling, Tylan called Locke's saber back up to him, taking the weapon in hand and offering it to the boy. "You did do well Locke. Stop thinking as me as the wall to pass; it will blind you to your own improvement.

You did surprise me. Now then, when the wind returns to your sails and your certain your body is up to it, let us continue shall we? This time I'll be the attacker, you the defender." Snapping his saber back to life, Tylan moved to stand outside the circle, making an indication for Locke to take the circle instead. When Locke was ready, a move he would likely signal with a salute or a word, Tylan would step in and snap several simple yet quick shots with his saber to Locke's sides, then from above and below. A test to start. Then the real test would come after.

[Rugs]

Locke stared at the end of Tylan's blade for a few short moments after he spoke. He knew it couldn't hurt him, not beyond a painful sting, but if they'd been fighting for real...

Well, if this had been a real fight I'd have more to worry about than his saber an inch or two away from my chest. It almost hurt to admit the truth to himself. He could kill me whenever he wanted to. Fortunately that wasn't something they'd have to worry about. Tylan was a good friend to him, and a mentor as well. Getting frustrated at him wasn't going to change that, and friends didn't fight for real. Not to kill each other.

Right?

Tylan's voice pulled Locke out of his thoughts and he looked up to the Knight. A hand was offered to help him to his feet, and he took it, listening to Tylan with a sheepish look on his face. He knew the truth in his words. He knew that if he fought like he just had against a real opponent things could get very ugly, very quickly. He'd made a fool of himself just now.

"Better a fool for a friend in training than a fool for an enemy in the field." Tiino's words echoed in Locke's head. Tylan wasn't the only one who'd been able to frustrate Locke. Though it had been a very long time since he'd let his frustration give way to attacking in a blind rage as he just had.

" You did do well Locke. Stop thinking as me as the wall to pass; it will blind you to your own improvement," said Tylan as he called Locke's dropped saber to his hand with the Force and offered it to him. The words resounded in Locke's mind. So much so that though he heard the rest of what Tylan said, he didn't really pay attention.

"I'm sorry Ty," he said again quietly. "I just look at strong Jedi like you and Tiino and then when I look at myself..." He shook his head and dropped his shoulders, quietly sighing. "I just feel so weak and useless. And I just hoped that if I could hit you once--just once--I could prove how far I've come. I guess I was looking at it the wrong way."

He took a few steps back to move into the circle Tylan had made. Closing his eyes, he pulled on the Force and took calming breaths. Soresu demanded a calm mind and clear thoughts. It demanded that he be in the eye of the storm, calm in spite of whatever chaos might reign around him. This won't be easy, Locke, he told himself. You're still new to the form, and he's a masterful duelist. His eyes snapped open at the same moment his yellow-orange blade flared to life.

He's going to push you. Hard.

Locke took his stance, with his feet planted soundly beneath him and his legs bent slightly at the knee. He brought his blade up in front of him, slanted diagonally across the front of his body and held close. That was the danger; the closeness of the blade to the body made Soresu potent defensively, but for a learner of the form, it gave a constant risk of self-injury. It was why calm was required.

Locke took a final calming breath. His body tensed to try to work the last remnants of frustration out; his bare arms flexed and hardened as he momentarily tightened his grip on his saber's hilt. And then he was relaxed.

"Well, come on then. Let's see how I do."

Tylan came in and attacked. Locke reacted smoothly, snapping his blade to his left and right with simple flicks of his wrist. He bunted the stroke that came up from below away before it could touch him, and raised his blade over his head to stop the attack that came from above. Then he held the position. Not in a lock; he simply held it there, blade lightly touched against Tylan to hold the form, waiting to see if the Knight offered any critique or moved on.

It was simple. So far.

Locke knew it wouldn't last.

[Jazen]

"Its not a sin to want to be better Locke. But it will be if you lose yourself trying to get there. Slow down, taste the air and the world around you, reflect on how far you've come. You'll grow when your not stressing yourself to be better then one of us then if you tried with the single thought that just because you can't connect with a hit that you are weak.

We have years and experience Locke; one day you will too. And on that day....I will gladly be worried."

He left it at that as he waited for Locke to prepare himself for the next phase of their training and/or spar. The first step he took was to draw on the Force to steady himself, his breaths controlled, slow and deep. An exercise to bring pour water on that hot head of his, bring it down to a more moderate temperature so that ideas were found, not boiled over and tossed aside. It was the best step he could take to calm his anger....at the very least now he was not hissing steam into the Force.

Soresu required just that; a calm mind, a level head. If you rushed the style or tried to be offensive with it, the entire purpose was lost. Soresu was, almost down to the bone, a style meant for defense and protection. Its moves were not designed to be flashy or fierce, nor heavy set or for a quick end to a battle. Soresu was meant for speed and fights of attrition, where one needed to stay fighting for a long period of time, likely against numerous foes. Its blocks were simple, yet so easy to transition to that the user lost little stamina at all. It effectively created a wall between the user and his foes, a wall that with practice, could be as strong as the hull of any starship. And against this unyielding wall, enemies might lose patience....something that could lead them to make a critical error in their attack. And that is when Soresu struck. As Locke had just found out.

Once Locke was fully ready, Tylan's attack had taken place, the four way strike being his first attempt. It was always the best way to make sure someone at least had the basics down....and if Locke hadn't been able to block any of those strikes, Tylan would have been greatly saddened. Luckily, that wasn't the case, as Locke brought his saber up to counter each of Tylan's swift strikes. Left and right, then down and up, Tylan's blows flowing perfectly together...and Locke's counters were the same.

When their sabers met above Locke, Tylan let his blade linger there when he noticed Locke held his stance there. "Good Locke, perfect form. But that was only the most simple of the simple, slowed for me to make sure you at least knew how not to sting yourself while blocking. Now let's get a little more proactive shall we?"

From that block, Tylan snapped his blade around and to the side, then adjusted his angle of his swing twice to strike from the same area, but faster and in quick succession. Then he came from the other side, his first swing coming from below a feint as it suddenly switched to the diagonal from above, then brought the blade back up from the opposite side in the same way. And he pressed his attacks, fast, quick, looking for the weaknesses in Locke's form...and striking for them. Trying to push him from the circle. He wasn't going as fast as he could nor as strong with his strikes yet...but they would at least be challenging for the young man, in his first stages of Soresu.

But it would be a good way for Tylan to gauge his skill.

[Rugs]

Though Tylan's strokes had been basic, and his attack routine about as rudimentary as an attack routine could get, Locke found himself grinning at the praise he got. He hadn't proved a damn thing yet, and he knew it, but he was glad to hear that he'd done well. The basics were the foundation of any form, and no matter how many complexities it held, if the basics were poor, so too would be everything else.

"Good to hear, Ty," he said earnestly, "but I wanna see how I do when you do more than that." His grip tightened lightly on his hilt, his muscles tensed a bit in anticipation of movement. Calm Locke. Don't anticipate. He'll fake you out like that.

Blue and orange came apart, and the two flowed into motion again. Locke's blade flowed around to meet Tylan's twice on his left. He took a step back. Another strike came, one Locke nearly went for before seeing it for the feint it was at the last moment. He cursed slightly at that as he rushed to bring his saber up, barely stopping Tylan's sapphire saber from stinging his shoulder. He hated feints, at least when he was using Soresu. More often than not, they made him hit himself with his own blade in a panic thanks to how close he had to keep it to his body. Tiino said it was a stumbling block nearly every Soresu learner ran into. He also said Locke would get through it, despite the frustrations.

This time wasn't one of those times, though. The block was close, but he kept Tylan's blade back and swung his own back around just in time to knock Tylan's follow-up away from him.

He took another step back.

Tylan pressed now, making Locke work to keep his lightsaber away from him. His blows came hard and fast, but not as hard or fast as they could. Still, Locke persevered, ignoring the wetness of his clothes. Ignoring the pain in his stomach from Tylan's knee earlier. Ignoring the faint, dull burn of weariness left in his arms from his blind attack earlier. That was going to bite him in the aft end if they kept going; he'd expended a lot of energy with that reckless charge. And it hadn't gained him a damn thing.

As Tylan pressed forward, swiping at his neck, Locke leaned back, only to nearly be impaled when Tylan's saber turned into a spear thrusting out at his gut. Locke turned his body to the side and flicked his lightsaber up, barely in time to stop the sweep that followed. He'd been forced to take another step back, and with a quick glance back, he found that his foot was near the edge of the circle.

Dammit!

That curse was doubled when he suddenly felt Tylan's blade burn against his side. Locke winced from the sting and sighed, shaking his head to stop the irritation before it could rise up. That was his fault and his alone.

"You don't even need to say it, Ty," he muttered, moving back to the center of the circle. "I lost my focus looking to see where I was. That was stupid" He raised his blade in front of him again, determination flashing in his eyes. "Come on."

[Jazen]

With each strike that Tylan made, he watched. He listened. And he felt. The trick to knowing where a student's faults lay in watching their actions, looking for the mistakes they were making, then targeting those mistakes to be sure they were really mistakes at all. If they were, the student would face them again and again, sometimes with advice, sometimes without it at all. Until they overcame that obstacle, the student would be forced to suffer the lesson any number of times till they got it right. And then it would be onto the next step in the process known as "trial by error."

Which was what Tylan was aiming to do with Locke's Soresu. He watched for mistakes in his form, looking for an area where his block was weaker, or from angles that made it harder for the young Jedi to adjust himself to counter the blow from another angle. Above all else, Tylan was also pushing for a pace he knew Locke could keep up with...at first. But Soresu called for one to use those minimal movements to lessen faitgue; Locke's greatest test would come in the form of how long he could keep up the fight with his already weary body.

Tylan didn't need to guess that Locke was already exhausted from before, he knew it. Mad rushes that abandon style and grace in favor of speed and aggressiveness tended to have that effect on a body. It had been part of Tylan's plan all along; first let Locke try his hand at defeating Tylan's barrier, simply because he wanted to know how much the boy had progressed on that front at first. And he'd done well. But now, weary from having tried to accomplish that task, Locke was now tasked with holding his own defensively against him; if he had a handle on the style, he'd be able to keep up for a fair while. If not...well, they'd have to find a way to lessen the strain on his body.

A light sweat slowly began to slide down Tylan's brow as he pressed into Locke. As good as he was, he wasn't above getting tired himself. And though his moves were swift, easy from flow to flow and with the less amount of effort that he could afford, it was starting to build in him as well. Fatigue, that is. They'd take a break soon enough...once Tylan was sure.

A break came sooner then he expected. As he pushed Locke back, Tylan was able to keep a mindful eye on the circle without losing his focus on the young boy. Sadly, the same could not be said for Locke. As they neared the edge of the circle, Locke took a moment...a brief moment...to glance down to the floor to see where he stood within that circle. It may have been only for the faintest of moments, in the span of time it took for the eye to snap a shot down and look for that line. No time at all really. To a normal person, it would not have been enough time.

But Tylan and Locke weren't normal. And Tylan was the better skilled.

As soon as he saw Locke's gaze drop, Tylan struck. Hard, fast, sliding through his break in concentration to find the crack in the wall. Twice in quick succession, he snapped his blade against Locke's side. The boy winced and retreated a step, using his hand to call for a pause. A pause Tylan granted him, stepping back slowly till he was once again outside the circle. Locke was quick to follow, moving back to his place at its center, panting a fair amount as he nursed that side for a moment.

"Correct. However, I cannot entirely fault you for that. Being aware of your surroundings is as much as important as the form itself. Soresu won't do you much good if your backed into a wall or off a cliff, am I right? You have to let yourself flow into the Force, let it be the guide to your movements and your eyes to the world around you. When you focus on your foe, it sees what you cannot dare to watch for. When you need to look around, it help moves you to make the right steps needed.

Your doing well...but your not making the easiest moves to counter. Its not much, but they'll take a greater effect collectively then you think. Take a moment, focus your mind and body. And then I'll move again."

He gave him that moment, the calm hiss of both sabers the only sound around them in that quiet night air. Finally, Locke made a nod with his head and motioned for Tylan to come again. And so he did; just as fast, just as strong. But he had a new focus now, a new area to train his sights on. He aimed a fair deal of his newest flurry at the side he'd just grazed, as well as increased the number of feints he threw Locke's way. He'd been told once...and learned it himself, that when a person was injuried, future attacks to that area might make them hesistate or act to quickly to avoid that pain again. A defensive mechanism of the body; useful at times, a danger at others.

Tylan would test to see if Locke could overcome that. As well as find a way to better parry when Tylan feinted him out; that saber had come much to close for comfort to Locke's should when he blocked. And, even as he pushed Locke to answer those attempts....he left very tiny, very subtle, openings in his attack. Would Locke see them? Tylan hoped so. Would Tylan make attacking them easy? Not a chance.

[Rugs]

"I know, I know," Locke muttered as Tylan finished speaking. "I have to listen to the Force, let the currents move me and guide me." He sighed, running a hand through his wet hair as Tylan stepped out of the circle so they could reset. Force, but he felt like a damned fool. That was a novice mistake. "Come on Locke, you're better than that," he whispered, quietly chiding himself.

Locke studied Tylan as he was given a moment to gather himself. He could see a light sheen of sweat on the Knight's brow, could feel through the Force that the fighting was starting to take its toll on him too. No one was above exhaustion, no matter what form they used. But despite that, and despite the progress he'd made, Locke knew Tylan still had deeper reserves of energy than he did. And that reckless attack was coming back to haunt him. His arms burned, his breaths came heavier than they should have. He was tired, simply put. There wasn't much of a choice than to press on, though. Tylan would want to see how far he'd come in a year, and Locke wanted to show him. But it wouldn't be easy.

Especially as Tylan continued to ramp up the difficulty.

Determination flashed as he raised his blade up. So I'm tired. So what? Won't always have the luxury of fighting at one hundred percent. "Come on."

There was a brief moment, come and gone within the span of a single heartbeat, that both Jedi stood stock still, looking at each other. The cool night air whispered gently through the courtyard, bringing a light chill as it touched Locke's wet form and teased his hair.

And then they moved.

Tylan came in to attack. Locke took a very small step toward him. It wasn't necessarily something from Soresu's philosophy but that didn't matter to Locke; it was a defensive measure in and of itself, despite the aggressiveness of moving toward an attacking opponent.

There was a reason and rhyme to the action though. Every duelist had their own comfort zone for distance, and their own tempo and timing they fought to. Disrupt the distance, or find and disrupt off the tempo, and you had a better chance to take control.

That was Locke was trying to do. He moved closer to Tylan as he attacked to try to make the distance shorter than what the Knight was expecting. He held no illusions that he'd be able to take advantage of it, with the difference in skill between them, but it was still good to practice.

Their blades came together once. Twice. Thrice. For a few moments, Locke held his ground, working furiously to fend Tylan's attacks off.

But then Tylan started to show his hand. He feinted at the side he'd hit earlier. It was still a little sore, as were the other places Locke had taken touches from Tylan's saber. Locke moved to defend, but it was a feint. The blue blade zipped away right before Locke's blade could catch it. It arched up quickly and lashed out like a viper's bite at his stomach. Locke knew he couldn't block that strike.

So he didn't.

He hopped back, and the blade just barely crazed the edge of his robe's cloth. The move itself was an admission of failure on the part of his bladework; his wall had been breached, but when in doubt, move the wall.

Still, he was in the circle, even though he'd lost the ground gained by the step and then some. There wasn't time to think about it, though. Tylan kept attacking, and Locke kept defending. It wasn't easy. he nearly got hit several times, and had to duck or dip away from Tylan's blade, but he held it off. However, he was getting pushed back.

As he became aware that he was once again on the circle's, edge, he found himself looking for a chance to attack, or break away... something. Anything.

There!

There was a hole he could use! Tylan's blade came toward Locke, in a slashing sort of thrust at his belly. Locke raised his blade up quick and hard in a one-handed block that was meant to snap Tylan's blade up way out of line and up into the air.

As he kept moving his blade up, he started to step quickly forward and slip around to Tylan's side to give himself some more room. As he stepped, he brought the blade down hard and fast, and he'd hopefully beat Tylan's blade back and get him before he could react.

Hopefully. Attacking Tylan had never been an easy thing; that probably wasn't going to change now.

[Jazen]

The glowing blades hissed time and time again as Locke and Tylan continued their dance, the cool night breeze teasing their sweat laced bodies with refreshing gasps every few moments. It always amazed Tylan that the lightsaber, a tool for defense, a symbol of justice and a weapon that sometimes need not be drawn to end a fight, could look both so fearsome and so beautiful when drawn into combat. The blue of blade, reminders of the sky that would line the horizon soon enough, or of the ocean on worlds a many, dancing with the orange/yellow of Locke's blade, the possible horizon dawning to release the sky upon a world.

It was an art, both for those who watched it and those who experienced it. But only between two Jedi, fighting for purposes such as theirs, could the display be considered astounding.

Tylan let a small portion of his mind attend to that, as the rest of his mind attended to striking at Locke, continuously testing the young man's resolve. His blue blade sang against the night air as he twisted it to strike at Locke's side, then snapped the blade around to lash out at the opposite side of Locke, one of the any feints the Knight was throwing the man's way. Like so many of the others though, that attempt was snapped away by a last second counter by the youn apprentice; a little close for comfort, but utimately, just as Soresu was meant to be.

The teacher in Tylan couldn't have been more proud, but the experienced veteran in him was also wincing at every move that seemed to push the younger warrior. Images of Locke fighting an opponent designed to kill rather then teach flashed through his mind and the brotherly friendship in him towards Locke feared that when the time came, he would not be ready. But with each strike towards Locke, with each quick counter and readiness to face another, that part of him was overcome by the reassurance...that him and Tiino had trained the man well and that he would be ready to face any obstacle he ran into.

His....rather unique way to countering Tylan's attacks had even the older Jedi smiling brightly as a light chuckle found its purchase in his voice. Locke was moving into his attacks, cutting some off before they could reach full potential. A good strategy. Even more amazing that with each passing second, as Locke's stamina was slowly ebbed away, his blocks became faster, more accurate. Like the drain on his body was focusing his mind to accomdate.

It was a most impressive feat...one that would no doubt prove useful in the years to come. And a trick Tylan might just have to copy from the boy.

But he was still open to making mistakes. A high over stroke from Tylan turned into a sudden jab at his side. Turned away. A thrust for his chest became a swipe at his legs. Turned aside. A series of quick slashes in a sequence designed to confuse and disarm. Sent away. And in quite possibly the most interesting counter yet....when Tylan went for that sore area, turned it into a feint...Locke evaded it. Didn't block or parry or counter; he stepped back. A grin slide across Tylan's features; he didn't need to read Locke's mind to know what he'd thought.

Move the wall....brilliant.

And those mistakes Tylan had been speaking of finally came, when Locke obviously saw the light at the end of the tunnel in one of Tylan's feinted openings. Well....it hadn't intended to be a purposely created one.....but Locke didn't need to know that. Either way, the young Jedi darted in, knocking Tylan's saber aside and moving in to his side. Tylan's eyes followed him every step of the way....and his mind pondered if he'd make it in time.

Locke's saber came around and down. Tylan's saber faded. The blade was close now. Tylan dropped his saber down, unlit. And then....Locke's blade slipped past the space where Tylan had been, as the older Jedi twisted his body away from the blow and snapped his saber to life again, bringing it up to catch Locke's blade. And with a sharp intake of air, Tylan pulsed a push towards Locke, aimed for his belly while he was preoccuiped. Whether it succeeded or not didn't matter to him; he merely stepped away from the exchange to garner himself space. And then he clapped.

"Excellent Locke, excellent. Taking advantage of an opening; granted, one I left there for you to find, but it matters more how you use the opening, rather then how it is created. Force's sake, you might have turned my rused opening to your advantage. Most impressive.

But.....your still weak on your defense. Too many times my blade has come to close to your body. You must counter back more....away from you. Because I could simply use my strength to push your own saber back into your body. And there are plenty here who could do the same. Don't rely on the physical strength you have not; rely on the speed and mind you know you have. Now....one more time, only this time...prove to me just how long that frail body with lowering stamina can last."

It was a jab; a harsh one. But it had meaning. He wanted to see if Locke had truly learned his lesson from before. So as his attacks started anew, he would start that verbal sparring...and waited to see what would come of it. He hoped it wasn't what he dreaded it would be.

[Rugs]

Tylan was gone.

There wasn't any way to think about it; he'd been there a moment before, but by the time Locke's saber reached what should have been Tylan's shoulder, he was out of the way. He'd moved back and deactivated his weapon in the process. As Locke's lightsaber seared through the empty space, Tylan's flared to life again and rose, catching Locke's weapon in counter.

Locke--still mindful that he didn't have much more room to move back than when he'd been pressed against the circle's edge--had to fight the initial urge to press back against Tylan's lightsaber; it would be fruitless, with as tired as he'd made himself. Besides, if he could get it free, maybe he could find an opportunity to strike...

So he drew back, started to disengage his saber from Tylan's blade...

...and was suddenly stumbling back when Tylan threw a push into him. He'd felt the welling in the Force at the last moment, but he'd let his focus slip again, yet again making that same potentially-fatal mistake he'd made the first time around. He clenched his jaw a bit, feeling a bit of frustration at himself rise up. Come on Locke, get yourself together! Pay attention!

It wasn't fatal this time, though that might just have been because Tylan drew back instead of pressing the opportunity. Instead of getting another sting from a training saber, Locke got sent stumbling out of the circle. He'd failed in his objective, but at least he hadn't been hit like last time. It was something. Better than nothing, he groused. He wasn't pleased with his performance so far. Not because of anything Tylan had done--he'd expected that he would be forced from the circle, even hit a few times--but because he was messing up and losing his focus.

It's novice's mistake. He tightened his grip on his saber's hilt as he regained his footing. I'm better than that.

They paused for a moment. Tylan took the opportunity to speak to Locke again, both praising and giving critique on his form. For his part, Locke simply stood, panting softly. He reached up a had to wipe some of the sweat from his brow.

"Now....one more time, only this time...prove to me just how long that frail body with lowering stamina can last."

A brief touch of irritation ran through him at the comment, but he quickly beat it down. He's messing with me, he told himself, raising his saber and nodding once to Tylan to show he was ready. I'll show him what I've got.

Blue lunged for his heart. Fast

Locke's eyes almost widened at how swiftly the thrust came. As it neared, he moved himself to the side with a single step, twisting in the process to narrow the target area that Tylan's lightsaber had to hit. His lightsaber batted out from guard and pushed the lightsaber away from him.

Before he could even think about countering, Tylan came at him again, forcing him to redirect a slash at his neck down and safely away from him. Another came after, toward his legs and he hopped over it to let it pass through.

Again and again Tylan struck, with blows that were powerful and fast. Locke defended against them as best he could, but there were some where Tylan forced him into a straight-on block, and those were dangerous. With those, the full strength of Tylan's blows was brought to bear on Locke's blade, and with each one, he felt his arms start to tire more and more.

Strike at the side. Turned aside, with a failed attempt to take control of Tylan's blade and riposte. Slash at the thigh into feint at the neck. Just barely stopped in time to keep his head from getting lopped off. Again and again, blow after blow, Tylan's assault came. And it was having an effect on Locke.

His movements were starting to slow, his blocks growing sloppier and more sluggish. Their weapons still wove a tapestry of color between them, but Locke's weaving was beginning to falter. His face contorted into a mask of exertion and effort as he forced himself to keep moving. He'd been knicked a few times by Tylan's saber, but they'd been light; painful from a real saber to be sure, but not incapacitating. so he fought on.

They'd not restarted in the circle; Locke had been out of it when Tylan began anew. So he'd been giving ground freely, bending in the wind with the assault, rather than trying to stand and being broken.

It couldn't go on forever, though. He found himself backed against the edge of the artificial stream again. One more step would have him back in the water, and he didn't have any plans to do that. So he stood his ground, making a desperate stand until he could find a chance to attack or to move away.

Tylan's saber came at his neck. Locke ducked the blow, but Tylan followed through with a heavy downward slash. Locke responded with a block.

He realized half a heartbeat too late that he should have dodged to the side.

Their blades locked.

"Son of a-!"

That was the last thing he needed. Even with him struggling mightily against Tylan, even calling on the Force for strength, his lightsaber was slowly being forced down toward him. If he didn't do something to disrupt the lock, he'd be screwed.

Thinking quickly, he let a hand fall from his lightsaber and threw a quick push Tylan's way to try to push him back. Hopefully he could throw Tylan off enough to break the lock and move away.

Force, he didn't want to end up in that water again.

[Jazen]

This time, it wasn't Tylan who was feeling disappointed over Locke's actions and attacks.

It was Locke who was disappointed with himself.

It had began after Locke's saber had only found empty space where Tylan had been before. A bit of shock and disbelief. Then realization about what had happened, reacting just as quickly, followed by a slight tinge of fear as he sensed what was coming. And after he'd regained his balance from Tylan's attack, he felt the frustration grow in Locke again. But like Tylan noted, it came from the man's own annoyance at how he'd almost repeated the same mistake that had cost him the first time.

As he had watched Locke compose himself and given his words of advice, Tylan had lightly tested Locke's body with the Force. He could feel it....the exhaustion seeping into every pore and orifice of his body, the tension in his muscles, the quickness that his heart and lungs were moving to restore order to the fatigued body. Tylan would have to bring the session to a close soon. Not that he hadn't been impressed with how long Locke had kept up this fight, but as the time had continued on, Locke's moves had weakened as his body tired. It was simply time to call it a day and prepare for the next.

The fact that his brief taunt had stirred irritation in Locke again proved that he could, at the least, get to him with some of his words. Which is what he intended to keep doing, to see if Locke could remember to keep that cool head during the waning stages of their fight. Calm Locke. The minute you lose yourself for even a moment is the moment your wall shatters.

And thus the dance began again, blue and orange clashing in strikes of speed and dazzling light. Tylan had forgone using pure speed to overwhelm and test the younger Jedi's defense...now he combined speed and power, using the strength to push Locke's blade back onto himself. He mentally noted as the fight began that the circle was not their starting point anymore, however that fact was no longer essential. The circle had served its purpose, now the free form dance they had started would serve its own. And so he focused his attack and adjusted for Locke's new range of movement.

His blue saber hissed towards Locke's thigh, a move the younger Jedi evaded instead of blocked, leaping a bunny hop from the blade. Almost immediately, Tylan brought the blade backhand towards him, doubling its power with his other hand on the hilt. This one Locke blocked, the blade searing close to his shoulder as his tired arms tried to resist Tylan's blow. Then, with some difficulty, he shrugged the blow aside and moved to put a small distance between them. Tylan didn't let that distance remain.

"Quick thinking Locke, but think faster. Make it harder for me to use my heavier blows, stop trying to compete with them." His saber hissed wide as Locke again evaded his blade, but Tylan pushed on, darting fast and precise swings to both sides of him, then from the diagonal, then a feint thrust that twisted into another strike at his thigh. Blocked, blocked, blocked and.....swiped. The tip of his blade met resistance, but only the cloth on Locke's pants. Close...he was getting closer.

"When the body starts to fatigue, you must plan what position would benefit you the best. Saber locking..."he said as he suddenly surged in and slammed his blade to Locke's, pushing it back towards him with all the strength he could call on, "is the one thing you cannot afford to let happen now. Your arms won't be able to take it, weak as they are now." Shoving Locke back, he continued to pressure the young man, watching carefully his strain through his facial expression. It wouldn't be long now, not likely, before Locke made a mistake. Again, it was something that Tylan hoped, prayed would not happen. But he knew what happened when one was fatigued and running out of time...he'd faced it several times in his lifetime. You looked at the angles too quickly, trying to find an out....and often taking the risk of a certain move to gain that.

His saber hissed clear over Locke's head as he ducked a swipe, searing across one of the trees growing in the small courtyard. Tylan adjusted his swing to suddenly come up hard from below, the heavy blow Locke had no choice but to lift his blade to counter. The blade snapped back from the hit, so much so that Tylan's blade lightly seared his shoulder. And again, Locke retreated from the blow, barely avoiding the swift follow ups Tylan darted his way. Stumbling back to give himself space, Locke's feet came dangerously close to that wet ground near the stream. And right there, the combination of his feeling in the Force, the look on his face and the panting of his breath....

It was time to end this.

Tylan, calling upon the Force as swiftly to empower his body, burst forth. A swing came in fast for Locke's neck, a move that he again evaded by ducking. And then Tylan used the heaviest overhead blow he could throw. Considering Locke's level of fatigue, he should have evaded. He didn't. He blocked. And there was his mistake. Blue and orange hissed heavily against one another, making it slightly harder to tell them apart. A saber lock. Normally, not so bad, as it gave both participants a chance to think. But right now, it was Locke's worst enemy.

He could see the panic slide across Locke's face. And knew he'd do the first thing that came to mind to free himself from the lock. Which in this case, was to remove a hand from his saber. To try and push Tylan away. A fatal mistake. For as their blades had been locked together, the only thing that had kept Locke from feeling the sting of his saber again was the combined strength he had left holding Tylan back. With that hand gone....the scale tipped easily. So even as that push hit Tylan, Tylan's saber pushed its way through Locke's guard. And snapped hard across his chest as the saber was pushed aside and down.

The push would force him back a step or two, but he was on Locke again so fast that the boy was likely still feeling the sting to his shoulder. The Force welled in Tylan and he slammed it into the hopefully staggering Locke. Provided he was knocked back, Tylan would grip his saber with the Force, and pull harshly on it, trying to call it to him as he stepped in and dropped his saber to strike at Locke twice more, to seer little stings to parts of his body, up or down. And then he'd shake his head again.

"Locke....that was fatal. After all those tired, but successful, attempts to block me, you made the simplest of mistakes considering your situation. If you bring this to the trials...they will devour you, my young learner."

[Rugs]

It was over.

Locke knew that the moment his blade had locked against Tylan's. He'd been beaten. Again. Trapped. Again. But this time, it hadn't been Tylan, not completely.

Oh, he'd played a role in getting Locke to where he stood now, with his merciless assault that pressed the padawan to the limits of his ability with a blade to merely survive. He'd been the unstoppable force that pressed Locke's back to the wall. He'd been the ever-present danger that made a man's mind madly search for any glimpse of hope, no matter how feeble. And, if any doubt still lingered in the recesses of Locke's mind before, Tylan had proven over and over again that he still had a very long way to go.

But in spite of all of those things, Locke's dilemma was not created entirely by Tylan. He could have evaded the trip, but he'd been so desperate to keep that blade from him, so quick to react that he didn't think.

And so, as he stood there, knowing that he'd been caught, he realized that this trap was one of his own making.

It's over. The thought came without bidding, from a quiet corner in his mind. His face twisted as he strained, and his grutned softly as his arms fell a few inches back, bringing his own blade nearer to his shoulder.

He'd fight, though. Tylan might beat him, but he'd go down fighting.

His muscles strained visibly as he pushed back against Tylan; veins spiderwbbed over the surface of his arms more than the usual. As his tired body gave all it could give, his mind raced, and a plan was formed. He didn't take time to consider; he just acted.

And in that he sealed his loss.

The moment he let his left hand--the weaker of the two--leave his saber's hilt, he felt Tylan's surge forward. Even at full strength, blocking the strength of two arms with one was difficult.

With his body worn and tired, he didn't stand a chance. He threw his hand foward, got the push out as he felt his blade pushed away. Then Tylan's saber seared across his chest. It would've been more than enough to kill them if they fought for real, but the sting of a training saber merely made his body start to curl, trying to shield itself from further pain. Even has the shove from Tylan pushing his orange blade away started to tip him back.

The push moved Tylan back a step or two. It didn't matter.

Locke flailed his arms to either side in an attempt to keep his balance and himself out of the water behind him. Tylan, already recovered from the push, slammed the Force into Locke's chest, pushed him over the edge. The next things happened very quickly.

An invisible hand ripped the saber from Locke's hand. The effect of the pull slowed his fall, nearly gave him a chance to try to push himself through the air to the other side of the water. But Tylan, it seemed, was done taking it easy on him. In a flash, he felt the sting of one saber cutting across his chest, then another.

Two hits. Both could kill.

That made him thrice dead by Tylan's hand. All in the time it took his heart to beat a few times.

He felt his stomach shift as he began to fall for true, and then the water rushed over him. As he came up a few moments later, coughing and sputtering, Tylan stood over him. Two sabers were humming in his hands. One was blue. The other was orange.

"Locke....that was fatal. After all those tired, but successful, attempts to block me, you made the simplest of mistakes considering your situation. If you bring this to the trials...they will devour you, my young learner."

As the adrenaline started to fade, the reality of what just happened hit Locke's system. And as he began to think about it, his frustration started to rise again. He frustrated at getting beaten again. He was frustrated because he'd made such a stupid mistake. Again.

And he was pissed that Tylan wanted to rub it in his face after he'd so resoundingly defeated.

"You think I don't know that?" Locke pushed himself up out of the water. Reaching up, he pushed some of his wet hair from in front of his eyes and glared up at Tylan. "I know! Goddamit Tylan, I know." He wiped water from his face and stood to his feet. His hands were clenched into fists at his side. He panted heavily, but it came from anger as much as it did exertion.

For a long, tense moment, he stood there, glaring at Tylan. His presence roiled with frustration, with anger and embarassment. And then...

Then he took a breath, shook his head, stepped away. His shoulders dropped, his body relaxed a bit, and when he looked to Tylan, his expression softened. Calm down, Locke. You knew this was coming. He had, hadn't he? You knew he'd beat you.

"I'm sorry, Ty. I...." Without finishing the thought, he turned to walk over to the bench he'd set his things down on. As he did, he tugged lightly on his lightsaber once to let Tylan know he wanted it, and then again to pull it gently back to his hand, then clipped it onto his belt.

As he reached the bench, he sighed, looking over his things, then growled as the wind blew against his wet clothing. It was cold. "I'm tired of being frelling wet and cold." So he pulled it over his head, letting the jagged scar a burning piece of metal had left in his back a few years ago come into sight before he switched for the outer layer of his robes. They'd be damp soon, with as wet as two dips had left him, but he could change them. Wish I had my cloak.

He wasted little time turning to leave. Tucking the shirt under his arm, he turned on his heel and walked for the way back in. No... No, Locke, don't leave like this. Ty's a friend.

So he stopped, sighing and looked back at Tylan. "I..." What could he say? 'Sorry for acting like an ass?' No...
"Sorry. I... I just need to clear my head. Maybe we can catch up later."

With that, he turned and shuffled back inside. He noted some of the younglings and padawans that had gathered at the windows to watch the spar. He tried to ignore the way they looked at him when he passed through the doors. First he'd stop by his room, find something dry to wear. And then....

Well, he still had plans for the night.

[Jazen]

Dead.

Dead three times over to make sure the job was done right.

That's what Locke would be if this had been training for real. Or facing a foe who's entire intent was to strike him down and leave his still smoking body for whatever scavengers a planet might have to come pick it away till bone. Of course, even if they had been using real sabers, Tylan would have toned down his saber at the last moments to avoid that messy ending. And the chances of facing anyone stronger then him that was an enemy...at least one that also used a lightsaber. Still, the mistakes were still mistakes...and they'd have to be worked on.

It had happened as Tylan had suspected it would. Without the strength both hands on the saber afforded him, Locke's guard broke, Tylan's saber scoring a clean hit on his chest. And then, after shrugging off Locke's push and hammering back with his own, that pull on Locke's saber had accomplished its goal, drawing the man's orange saber to his hand instead. And before Locke even had time to blink or regain the balance that the pull might have given him, he struck again.

First with his own saber. And then with Locke's. Two blazing scores across his chest, which would have ended any chance of surviving. And as Locke thudded into the stream bed once again, both sabers hissed close to his form, a sign that this round was over. Sweat dripped from Tylan's brow, the collective efforts of this time showing now that he was no longer in motion. Locke was showing his exhaustion as well, panting heavily as he lay there in the water. It was about time they took a breather or called it a night....

Or so Tylan thought. At his words though, that festering rage that he'd thought calmed earlier was back, growing like a storm on the horizon. He knew what was coming, so he pulled either saber aside to await the thunder that was getting ready to be unleashed. And almost perfectly in time with his motion, Locke shot up from the water, his eyes filled with malice and anger.

"You think I don't know that? I know! Goddammit Tylan, I know."

For the next moment, Tylan said nothing and neither did Locke. All the tell tale signs of rage were there, the clenched fists, the glaring eyes, the increased breathing as his temper rose. And all Tylan did was stare back, waiting silently for the storm to pass over and the sky to clear again. It happened sooner then he thought, the collective rage ebbing away as quickly as it had risen up. There was still a tinge of frustration and a large collection of embarrassment still mixed in there......but at least the worst of it had passed.

Before Tylan could say anything though, Locke was turning away, returning to where his things were, his shoulders sagging in defeat. Not defeat at Tylan's hand...but defeat at his own emotions. Locke didn't need to ask twice with that pull on his saber to have the weapon back; Tylan released it with ease at the second pull, helping to carefully guide it back to Locke's hand. Indeed...it was time for them to rest and reflect. As Locke reached the bench, Tylan followed silently behind him, coming to a stop near the boy as he removed his wet clothing and started to replace them with his drier outer robes in their place. Calmly, without even making any notice of it, he pulled the Force in and wrapped Locke in it, helping to create warmth in those cold and wet muscles. It wouldn't help too much...but it would help.

"Locke my friend, don't be so upset with yourself. You may have lost your temper, true, but that is simply something to be worked on as time passes. You made good strides, your Soresu was as expected of someone new to the form, better even and your Makashi has grown quite well in this coming year. I admit, some of the things I said were harsh..but I said them as direct as possible without sugarcoating them as they say.

That way, we know the things we need to correct before the trials and there's no dancing about it. But also look back on the praise given and know that you've done nothing wrong other then let slip a emotion. This is what the training was for as well."

He watched Locke let that sink in, then watched as he turned to leave without a word. Folding his arms into the sleeves of his robe, Tylan sighed and simply shook his head...then brought his eyes back up as he felt Locke turn to look back. One of the many things Locke never was was someone who couldn't find his voice....but the events of this spar had hit harder then Tylan had thought. Locke, usually so chatty and upbeat...was now stumbling for words and solemn. When those words finally came out, Tylan rose a hand and made a short wave to him.

"Do not worry over it my young friend. Take some time to change, to talk a walk, meditate if you have to. I'll be around when you're ready to speak, always ready to listen."

With a final nod, he watched Locke leave, several small gasps coming from the audience that had gathered just outside the room. He waited a few moments before following suit, turning his eyes to watch Locke vanish behind a door. Sighing again, Tylan turned to the source of a sudden tug on his robes, a small Rodian child looking up at him.

"He gonna be okay?" the large black eyes directed towards where Locke went, the boy's garbled but decent basic shifting from that small squished lips with a youthful innocence and curiosity. Smiling, Tylan patted the young boy on the shoulder and gave him a firm nod.

"He'll be fine. He's just lost his way a little...and when he finds his way back, he'll be as chatty and happy as he always is. Now come; let's see how you all are doing with your practices, shall we? And when he comes back, we'll all give him a nice big applause as a surprise okay?" The small group nodded and lightly cheered and with a final glance Locke's way, he led them inside to practice......but he keep a mindful eye on Locke's presence. Something was up...and he'd have to be ready for it.

[Rugs]

Well, coulda handled that better, Locke. He was thankful that the halls leading back to his quarters were relatively empty. A few Jedi here or there along the way, passing quietly by. That was good; it made it a bit easier for him to stop hiding his shame so much.

His shoulders still drooped slightly as he walked. His stormy eyes lacked their usual mischievous glint, his stride wasn't as brisk as normal. "What a mess," he muttered to himself, pushing some of his damp hair from his face. As he turned a corner, he nearly ran into a Nikto padawan walking along side their Zabrak master. He stumbled aside, muttering an apology without stopping.

It wasn't that he'd been defeated by Tylan, or even that it had happened so resoundingly; he was used to that, and he doubted any of their spars would top the time he'd asked Tylan to fight him for real. It wasn't the light welts from the touch of Tylan's saber, or the soreness from being hit that nipped at his mind so much. It wasn't even that students had been gathered to watch him lose over and over to his friend; everyone had seen some Jedi get thrown around in sparring matches at one point or another, and everyone got thrown around at some point.

He came to his door, held his palm to the reader and slipped inside as the door opened. As he shut behind him, he tossed his wet shirt on the floor, pulled off the outer layer of his robes he still had on and walked to the bathroom.

"You threw a fit, Locke," he said, standing before his reflection in the mirror. "Like a damn kid." Sighing, he pulled a towel to himself and started to dry himself off. "Come on, you're better than that."

He'd have to find a way to apologize to Tylan for the way he acted. Presently, he wasn't sure how, but he'd find a way. Right now all he wanted to do was clear his head...

--------

A little while later, Locke slipped back out of his room with a cloak wrapped around his shoulders. He wore civilian clothes beneath--a light shirt with short sleeves under a jacket, with some simple trousers, utility belt and his black boots. He'd said he'd talk to Tylan, yes, but right now he couldn't bring himself to face the man; he was still embarrassed over the way he'd acted during their spar.

So instead he'd head out, as he'd planned to do. The Temple was well and all, but he liked to get away sometimes. As much as Locke loved the Jedi, the city was a place where he could get away from the Jedi, get away from philosophy and all those other things. It was a place where he could become another young man. It was a place where he could clear his mind.

First he had to get out and hope no one noticed him. That part was the most difficult, though he'd gained a lot of experience over the years. Knowing--or learning--concealment had certainly helped.

He went out to the Processional Way, as if he was going to his usual thinking spot. Then, he casually started to stroll around the Temple grounds, slowly pulling his presence in. He couldn't pull it all the way in just yet, but he could do well enough to hide it from someone that wasn't actively looking for him.

Once he was hidden, it was just a matter of slinking away from the Temple, making sure to stay out of the sight of the Jedi that were on watch duty. It took patience, but he was able to do it.

Once off Temple grounds, found himself in the Temple District, walking along a pathway between some storefronts and the edge of the street. He reached up and began to undo his Padawan braid. Some of the cab drivers recognized it and also recognized students weren't supposed to be leaving on their own. They could be convinced if he lied just right, but he'd found it easier to just skip that step altogether.

He was thankful Tiino let him keep his hair long enough that he could undo his braid without it looking too foreign. Keeping the braid short tended to help as well. It took a little less than a minute for him to work it out; he was quite practiced in braiding and unbraiding it.

He took his cloak off and tucked it under his arm as he walked along. Now he wasn't a Jedi, not to most; with his clothing, the blaster at his hip, and his lightsaber hidden in a pouch on his belt, he was just another. A spacer passing through Coruscant, perhaps, or a young man on his way to a date. He found a waiting terminal for a cab and hailed one remotely. Then he settled onto a nearby bench, leaning back with an arm thrown casually over the back.

A cab stopped in front of him after a few minutes of waiting, and he climbed into the back. The driver--an old, grouchy-looking man with a fat face and even fatter stomach--turned around. "Where you goin'?"

"Staying in the district," Locke answered easily. "You know where the Empty Cup is?"

The driver didn't answer; isntead he snorted and pulled away from the curb. Locke took that as a yes. It would take a few minutes to get there, so he made himself as comfortable as he could in the somewhat-cramped back seat and looked out the window to all the lights that glittered ahead of him.

He wasn't going to the most reputable part of town. But things were cheaper there, and the atmosphere felt more real to him.

Besides, the drinks were good.

[Jazen]

"And just then, the grandmaster burst onto the scene, his lightsaber shining as bright as any sun amongst the chaos. With a single word he brought the whole crowd to a halt to look his way. And in his hand......was the weapon of the enemies leader, taken from him when his foe had surrendered and admitted defeat. It was one of the greatest victories the Jedi ever had....and then.....we had ice cream".

Tylan laughed as the children, who were seated all around him, suddenly blinked in surprise as his story went from chaos to...well ice cream. But once that brief moment of confusion passed, the children were a chorus of laughing and cheers in the quiet night air, the reaction prompting a wide smile from Tylan. Before he had started his tale of adventure, danger and joy though, the younglings had all shown him at least one thing they'd learned that day, whether it was physical or something from their studies. Most of what they showed was what he expected.....a simple step here, a part of the code there. One bold student even dared to show him what they'd learned to do with his telekinetic powers, lifting a tiny rock up to Tylan.

The very rock was still in his hand when he setted the kids down to tell them a story he remembered being told when he was younger. A story he was actually a part of, with his own master. And sadly enough, the only thing he had lied about was the ice cream. Everything else had happened just the way he told it. It had been a good way to pass the time while he waited for Locke to return....or at least, he hoped he'd return. They needed to talk about what had happened and how to move on from it.

So long as Locke didn't let his pride overwhelm him, then the situation would be resolved quite easily. But then again...Locke did have a....

Tylan felt the change the minute it started vanishing into the Force. He'd never really let slip his connection when Locke left, a small portion of his senses left to watch over Locke's presence when the young man had run off embarrassed. To make sure that he wasn't taking the event the wrong way and to make sure that anger had truly ebbed away. And now, through that connection...he could feel Locke gradually slipping away.

It was enough to get him standing on his feet suddenly, his mind racing through the possibilities that would explain such an event. Really though, there was only two; that Locke's life was fading away. That wasn't very possible, considering that they were in the temple, far from danger and he didn't feel any pain in Locke's presence. That only left him with one answer. Locke was slowly, but surely, hiding his being in the Force, concealing it by drawing the Force in around him to act as a barrier to the Force around him. Concealment. A skill he used when he wanted to sneak out of the Temple for a run in the city. A small smile creased Tylan's face at the thought.

So that's how you intend to calm yourself...a night on the town huh? Very interesting Locke...I think I have new plans for tonight.

"Children, thank you for sharing your time with me. Now, I have work to be done, so off with you. To bed, come on now, before I have to go get the scary lady who wanders the halls looking for small younglings at night." It wasn't a story....the guardian lady who watched the halls at night WAS quite scary to any youngling she caught wandering around at this hour. Was when he was young, still was now. At least she kept the kids honest. "Now, come on, come on go." The children gathered quickly their items and were soon off rushing down the halls towards their appointed rooms, some giggling, others moving in silence. When the last of them was gone from sight, Tylan's eyes turned towards the stars."

"Now, to find me a wayward apprentice."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About half an hour later, Tylan was combing the streets, his form hidden by a long slender cloak and his head shrouded by the shadow of his hood. Among the many people who walked the streets of Coruscant, he was just another body, another face that many didn't care to know or remember. The only thing that made it better was that Tylan was able to gently prod the ones that decided to look twice, to make them forget he was even there. He was, for all intents and purposes, a ghost that haunted the roads, seen but for a moment, then gone from sight entirely. And of course, his presence in the Force was gone, hidden under his masterful cloak via concealment.

Didn't want to spoil the party too quickly after all.

It hadn't been hard to trace Locke from the Temple. As good as the kid was, Tylan had played this game longer and had much more experience at tracking those who didn't want to be found. His presence, though hard to track once he dimmed it to almost nothing and vanished into the crowds of the political capital, was still there. If only giving him a vague direction in which to follow. But the smallest clue could turn out to be the biggest in his line of work, so that's what he followed.

The trail led him down many streets, past many closed shops and just as many open. At a few of them, he stopped but a moment to ask if they'd seen someone matching Locke's description. Most knew nothing, a gentle mind tap confirming whether or not they knew something. In one case, the man had to admit he saw someone familiar...but after a light probing, Tylan had simply said "no you haven't. You left the kettle on" before moving on as the man rushed back inside to find that non existent kettle that Tylan had created. And all the while, Locke's presence got further and harder to read.

Luck or the Force finally answered Tylan's calls, as he passed by the cab station that Locke had been waiting at earlier. Not that he knew it yet, but something about the place....drew him to investigate it. Glancing at it, he walked around it several times, tasting the lingering presence, looking for physical clues to answer his call. He had to have been at it for at least ten minutes before the sound of a cab approaching made him lift his head to the vehicle, its window already lowered as a grumpy old man, likely in his fifties, snarled out through the window.

"Were you going buddy....unless your a money less bum looking for change, in which case, get lost and stop wasting my time."

Tylan stared at the man for a moment, probed his mind...and smiled. He had the first real lead to follow. "You saw a boy, likely in his twenties, you dropped him off somewhere recently. Where was it?" he said, with a wave of his hand very slowly.

"Yea....I member him. Dumped him off a ways ahead, place called the Empty Cup." Tylan chuckled....oh Locke, really? If only Tiino knew...he'd be tossing a fit right now if he knew where Locke was going...and what the place was known for.

"Excellent. Then I believe you have another fare to deliver. Shall we?"

[Rugs]

The cab sped along, and it wasn't long before Locke found himself being dropped off at the curb on the side of one of the city blocks that bordered the Temple District. He flipped a credit chit to the driver as he stepped out of the cab and muttered for him to keep the change. It was both charity and practical; there wasn't a whole lot he could do with a few cents.

The door shut behind him and the cab swooped off as he walked off into the city proper, folded cloak still tucked beneath his arm. This was Locke's favorite part of town, when it came to getting away from the Temple. There were plenty of places closer to the Temple he could go to, and sometimes he did. But the places nearer to home where more upscale. Ritzier. Ironic, considering the monastic ways of the Order, but it was what it was.

The people that went to those places were a bit too well-bred for Locke's tastes. The venues, while nice, were a bit too fresh, too fake-feeling. And the prices for the alcohol was far too pricey.

Not that Locke would ever drink. He was a good little padawan.

This place was different though, though. It was good. The cantinas were nice enough, but more lived in than those closer to the Temple. There were ruffians here and there, but it was largely safe. The people were ordinary, largely friendly, save when fists started flying bars over some disagreement. But a quick brawl often got worked over when one of the parties offered the other a drink, and all was well.

As he strolled along, hands resting comfortably in the pockets of his coat, Locke looked around. There were a lot of people out tonight. Not surprising. Some big game was supposed to be happening soon, and a lot were heading out to bars and the like to watch. He nodded to a man that met his gaze, smiled softly at a couple walking by with their child between them.

He moved further, away from the lights and glamour. Even though this part of town was good, it did have its seedier parts. The Empty Cup happened to be in one of those seedy parts. Not that Locke minded; the drinks were good and he was a Jedi. Nothing would come up that he couldn't handle.

Besides, some drink would do well to help clear his head.

Not that I drink. He whistled tunelessly to himself. No sir.

It didn't take long for him to reach his destination. The Cup was an old dive, sitting on the corner of two of the pedestrian streets that ran through the city block. The blue and green lights that made up the sign above the door still flickered, as they had for as long as Locke could remember.

He glanced in through one of the large windows at the front. Decent crowd, but not too packed. Plenty of room for him to blend in and lose himself for a little while.

As he pushed the door open, the familiar feel of the Cup hit him. It was a little warm, and a low chatter hung in the air--which smelled slightly of smoke. At least there wasn't a musician tonight. The last two had been terrible.

"Well, wouldja lookie there!" A voice cried as Locke walked through the door. It was Danier--Dan for short--the owner of the place. He'd had ownership passed to him from his father, and him from his father before and so on and so on. He was in his fifties. There was a touch of frosty white to his hair, but he was built like a tank. The stories went that he'd been a soldier for a PMC in his younger days, before he came back to work with and eventually take over the family business. Locke could believe it.

Locke grinned as the door closed behind him and walked over the bar. "Dan! Good to see ya still kickin', ya old coot."

Dan laughed as Locke sat down in front of him. "You know I ain't goin' anywhere anytime soon, Jean." He used the name Locke gave almost everyone when he was 'off duty'. Wouldn't do to use his real name. "Anyway, where you been? Haven't seen you in a minute. And your usual lager, right?"

Locke nodded to the first question last. "Aye aye, sir. You know me." He slipped a chit down on the counter as Dan poured him his mug. "And I've been busy workin'. Y'know how it is. Gotta put food on the table." He spoke a bit more roughly than normal. It was a bit of a habit now, when he wanted to blend in in this sort of crowd. And it was great practice for a skill he'd probably need once he was a Knight in full.

"Took a job on a ship to Metellos. Shouldn't'a done that, though. Place is the biggest sh*thole I've seen in a long time."

Dan laughed as he slid Locke his mug. "Hell, I coulda told you that. What had you goin' to Metellos?"

"Just another job," Locke answered with a shrug. "Folks like to have a hired gun with 'em sometimes. Least it paid good. And for that, I can't complain." He raised his mug, made a toasting motion toward Dan. "Here's to many more."

"I hear you, Jean," Dan agreed, grinning.

With the psuedo-toast made, Locke put the mug to his lips and drank.

[Jazen]

The trip was going to take longer then expected. Something not uncommon for a busy planet such as Coruscant....but it could have been better timed.

It was if the Force, which had been helping him trail the very obscure signs that Locke had left, had decided to through a bit of trial Tylan's way. Almost immediately after the cab took to the skies, another vehicle and suddenly burst free from his lane, trying to cheat the flow of traffic. The Force has yelled to Tylan of the incoming danger with only seconds to spare, enough time for him to warn the driver. Tylan had to give it to the old man...he had better reflexes then Tylan would have given him credit for.

It kept them alive at least. It hadn't protected the car from getting sideswiped and forcing the driver to have to land. For safety reasons. From the brief touch of the man's mind that Tylan experienced when he came down as well, freaked out and rambling, Tylan guessed that he'd been partying much too long and had tried rushing with the drink goggles on. At least he had the common sense left to stop and work things out.

But it had meant that they needed to stop for repairs, which hadn't taken long...but they'd taken long enough. Tylan could have gotten another cab...but considering the hour, he was best to stick with the one he had to be sure.

Of course, the second they retook back to the skies were they swept into the toilsome lines of traffic that the night brought to the planet. It was amazing, how a planet with so many lines of traffic and the fact that those lines were in the air, how you could get stuck in what was essentially a traffic jam. In the backseat of the cab, Tylan couldn't help but smile and cover his eyes with his hand.

"Sorry about this fella....must have been a lane problem up ahead. Only reason I've ever seen for these skies to clog. Your lucky I charge by the mile, not the minute, in events like these."

"Oh, its not a problem. I'm sure my friend has no plans to travel far nor return for some time. And I thank you for that...though money won't be a problem. Just drive safely so we both can go home to where we belong tonight."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere far from Tylan, but growing ever so closer to Locke, a woman ran. Through shadow, through darkness and every now and then, through the many lights that dotted the Temple District. And whenever those lights shined upon her form, one could see that she was not a normal humanoid. Fur covered her body where her clothes weren't torn, a golden blond where filth and mud didn't sour the strands. Razor sharp eyes dotted left and right as she fled among streets where many saw her, many ignored her.

The life and story of Coruscant's underworld at night.

And a short distance away, following her in groups of two and three, were her pursuers. Rough and tough men, the kind you'd expect to see shambling around the Outer Worlds, clothed in items that could almost practically scream their profession. Pirates. Raiders...but in the case of tonight, they were equipped for one thing. The woman knew it...and so she ran faster and faster, not knowing what powered her beaten and sore limbs. But grateful for it.

But....the woman was not the only one graced with powers beyond that of the average everyday person mingling those streets. Calmly, sitting atop a railing that overlooked the street she now fled on, he waited. Had been waiting, knowing which way she would flee. Had sensed which direction she would turn and gotten there ahead of her. If she had any clue about how to truly use her powers, she would have sensed him as well....but luckily for them, she was still confused, still lost about these new powers. And that meant a bigger score.

The man's long, brown hair whipped in a small wind, tied neatly into a ponytail at his back, clothing fit for a fringer wrapped around his thin form. His eyes watched the woman run through the street, a devilish grin sliding across those mildly handsome features. Lifting a hand to his neck, he pushed on the small device there, the tiny click of the comm being powered on lost amongst the wild crowds below.

"I've got her. She's running down the third corridor, along the Moonlight Bar Road. Come around about a block ahead, you'll manage to cut her off. Remember, slap that collar on her as fast as you can. Kitty might not be as strong as she could be, but that doesn't mean she can't knock your filthy butts into tomorrow if you're not careful."

A rough and almost garbled voice responded back, the kind of voice that wasn't used to speaking basic. "I understand. Grab, catch, lock collar on. Big payday."

"That's right Frektor. Big payday. But only if we catch her alive and reasonably in good condition. No one wants a little slave that's all broken and ugly....or dead. Bring her in, shine her up and we all go home with money to feed our most wanted desires." A gurgled laugh came back over the comm as Frektor chirped back his approval before signing off. And with a long sigh, Rilos clicked his comm to a different channel...and waited.

It didn't take long for the motley crew of Nikto, humans, Rodian's and the massive Trandoshan named Frektor that Rilos had put in charge of hunting their latest quarry to make their move on the Cathar woman. What had they named her.....Elisa, that's right. The squabble sent much of the crowd scattering as Elisa put up her struggle, her fear as clear as day to Rilos. Fear that would have been helpful, if it hadn't triggered her dormant and growing powers as she attempted to free herself from her captors. Bodies flew this way and that as she lashed out uncontrollably with her abilities, the targets not always being the people attacking her. Various items started to fly randomly about as she attempted to struggle out of the grasp of Frektor.....and all the while, Rilos stalked closer, step by step.

And once he was within reach, he attacked her mind. Quickly, sharply targeting her nerves and causing, for the briefest of moments, her failing's to stop. And in that instant, Frektor slapped the collar on her, latching it tightly around her slender neck. The fire in her eyes returned as that brief moment passed, barely hiding the fear she held as well. And with a snarl, she tried to send Rilos flying. Nothing happened. She tried again. Still nothing. The fire in her eyes faded slowly, replaced by confusion, questions....and slowly that fear started to overwhelm everything else.

She was caught.

A small grin widened across Rilos's face as he stalked closer and grabbed her chin, roughly kissing her quickly and sharply before shoving her back into the care of Frektor. "Ah...the sweet taste of victory and money. Get her ready to move. And pick up our idiot comrades, would you?" As Frektor dragged Elisa off, Rilos turned away from the curious crowd, smiling at the bar they'd finally managed to catch her outside of.

"How does the boss always know where to be," one of his human comrades asked him as his eyes fell upon the bar's name.

"Because, my dear Frost. He's just that powerful." With a little chuckle, he keyed his comm to the right frequency and spoke only a few choice words. "We have her. Come outside so we can get along now."

And from inside the bar, a single man smiled and rose. Perfectly built, with long flowing hair descending his shoulders, the Kiffar pulled his black cloak with golden lining around him as he passed by the barkeep, waving his hand when the man asked about money. And as he shuffled out into the street to greet his second and his ragtag band of slavers, Yavor only had one thing to say.

"What took you so long?"

[Rugs]

"Alright, now I know you're lyin' Jean!"

A wave of drunken laughter rippled through the patrons that had gathered around Locke and Dan as Locke told tales of some of his adventures.

"I sh*t you not, my friend," Locke said, grinning. Two empty mugs sat on the counter before him; a third was in his hand, half empty. "Two ships full'a pirates! Took 'em, beat 'em, lived to see another day." There was a warm, comfortable haze filling his mind. Enough to add the edge of a slur to his words and gently nudge on his balance the wrong way if he wasn't careful.

"Bantha crap," the man next to him said loudly, his speech far more slurred than Locke's. "I think it'sh all a load'a... crap! Prove it!"

Locke smirked wryly and drank from his mug. He set it down on the table with a smack and turned to look at the fellow. "Proof, aye?" He chuckled under his breath, then looked at all of those gathered 'round to listen to him. "Y' all want proof, don't ya?"

They roared their approval.

Locke grinned. It paid to know how to work a crowd a bit. He wasn't thinking about it at the time, but it helped go a long way to building a reputation for himself. A reputation that he might very well need years later.

Right now, he was just thinking about the best way to show off. And a few stories of his adventures mixed with some exaggerated heroism worked quite nicely for that.

Leaving out that he was a Jedi helped too.

"Alright, alright," he said, laughing. He hopped of the stool and shrugged out of his jacket. Then he turned around and made a show of downing the last of his drink. He slammed the empty mug down and stood up tall, squaring his shoulders. "Alright, all'a ya! Here's your proof!"

Making a show of the process, he lifted his shirt up in the back to show his back, and the long cut that scarred it. From the back of his left shoulder down to the right side of his hip it stretched, straight as an arrow. It'd nearly been the death of him. But they didn't need to know that.

There was a quiet moment as he turned in a slow circle, letting all that wanted to see the scar see it. And then...

"Well I'll be damned."

"Boy must'a been tellin' th' truth."

They cheered, clasped him on the shoulder, gave him approving pats on the back. Locke grinned from ear to ear as he let the shirt fall back down and settled back onto his stool.

"Well, now," Dan said as Locke slipped his jacket back on. "Can't say I've seen a man so young do so much before. And still be breathin'." He chuckled and reached across the counter to take Locke's empty mugs. "What god's teat did you suck on t' get that kinda luck, Jean?"

Locke laughed to himself. "Can't go tellin' all m'secrets, Dan. But I got my ways."

"I can tell." Dan started to pour Locke another mug, but Locke cut him off. "No more?"

"Naw, 'fraid not. Wish I could, but I gotta head out. Meetin' with an old friend, see. Still need to be able to walk straight."

"Alright then," Dan, said. "That last one was on the house. Come on back and see us again, Jean."

Locke laughed at that as he rose from the stool once more and looked at Dan. "Always do, Dan. Take care'a yourself, ya hear? Better still be around next time I come back."

------------------------

Of course Locke hadn't gone directly back to the Temple. No need; he was still enjoying being out on his own, and he needed to wait for some of the drinks' haze to clear up before he went anyway. It had been good to get out. He was still a little troubled by the way he'd acted earlier in the night, but he felt better. At least now he felt that he could face Tylan again and actually apologize.

For now, though, he just walked the streets. He wandered aimlessly, floating along like a leaf lazily drifting on placid waters. He stumbled occasionally, when he stopped paying attention to where he was walking and the haze tripped his feet up, but he moved well enough.

It was his wandering that brought him to another bar, and the scene outside it.

There were a bunch of men gathered around, with some Cathar girl held, obviously a prisoner of some sort. Or a slave.

That made Locke pause. If there was one thing he hated more than gangs that preyed on people to make a living, it was slavers. He felt indignation rise in his stomach.

He strolled a little nearer, looking closer with his eyes. She had a collar around her neck. Probably some device to keep her from trying to run away. That's disgusting.

I have to do something. I'm a Jedi, I can take them. It was with some effort that he tried to push his senses out past the buzz to sense them. The results he got were... muddy, hard to decipher. He didn't feel any Force-sensitives, though.

And he didn't even think that they might be hiding their ability.

Instead, he walked over, confident that he--a Jedi--could take on a few thugs.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" Some of them turned to look at him. Yeah, they weren't expecting this. Come on, I'll show all'a you. How couldn't he? Who where they to compare to him and his abilities, let alone his training?

A hand went back to the pouch on his belt and when it came out, the orange blade of his lightsaber flared to life. "Let her go. Now. Or I'll make you."

[Jazen]

The Cathar girl was stronger then expected. Even with her powers stripped, surrounded by armed men and her fate so surely set in stone, she refused to yield. There was great fear in her eyes, Yavor could see it....but there was also a great fire still burning behind those slit yellow eyes. Defiance and determination....those were always great things to have. It made it all the more sweeter when they broke and fell into despair...when the slave realized she was doomed to do as her master bade...and simply gave into it.

It would be fun to break this one, Yavor decided to himself, to watch that fire slowly fade without sustenance. To be replaced by the ever growing fear of a life of servitude, doing what ever she was commanded just to retain the one thing she had left to lose. Her life. And who knew what awaited her....while Yavor may not have always sold to the best client, there were times when the slave lucked out. Freedom in their future by a sympathetic master.

Or perhaps a life simply of perks, at least perks as a slave would see them, for good service and behavior. So many paths that ebbed from a single source; her capture, here and now. No matter where she went, Yavor's mind only thought about one thing. How long he had during their trip to enjoy her...and to enjoy breaking her mind. It brought a long grin to that otherwise unmarred face, a glitter in his eyes that anyone who knew him feared. Because for him to be happy usually meant someone else was about to suffer.

"Feisty little minx, isn't she?". Yavor tilted his head to glance at his second in command, who'd come to rest at his side, both of them watching their men settle the final attempts of Elisa to escape physically. As the fight in her eyes...and in the Force died down, Yavor huffed a chuckle as he pulled some of his jet black hair out of his eyes.

"Indeed she is. But if my guess is right, we have a few days journey in hyperspace before we reach our destination. Plenty of time. More then enough really."

"Hah, that's true. I'd love to see how long she manages to hold out against me. I give her three days."

"This one isn't yours to break Rilos. I find myself wishing for someone worthy to break and submit to my will. She is mine to shatter." He felt Rilos's anger spike for a moment, the man's desire to have his way with the Cathar girl(whether just mentally or physically or both, Yavor cared not) as clear as day to his more experienced better. And it only made him smile more. "Relax, there's plenty of fish to be netted still. You may have the next one....this one's fire just draws me to her."

"Gah, fine. But the next one's mind, no ifs, and or buts. The last one broke too easily; I need someone stronger to test my abilities on." Snorting, he turned to move to the group to assist with her, wanting to get in his licks for sure before she would become Yavor's plaything. And about midway to her....something changed.

Yavor believed that the Force was both cruel and yet merciful. At times it could help lead you to great relief but there was also times that it lead to danger and pain. In this case, the Force almost seemed to respond to Rilos's wish to find someone better to test himself against. Uncloaked in the Force as the man was, Yavor had no trouble turning his head to spy the incoming presence, so thick and strong. Okay, granted, the presence was cloaked to a degree...but it faded lightly in and out...like whoever was using it wasn't exactly in complete control. And when that man finally appeared, Yavor only needed but a moment to understand why.

Their new guest was, to a degree, intoxicated. Enough so that he didn't appear to notice the danger he was walking into. A danger that only made Yavor's wicked grin grow as he praised the poor luck the Force appeared to have bestowed upon the boy. For the boy's misfortune...was Yavor's gain. Two force users in a day....I'll be making a small killing this time. Delicious.

Rilos had noticed something was different as well, his eyes snapping around to find the source of power that faded in and out like a faltering light. Neither man had to look very hard....the person all but revealed themselves to them. With a voice that drew the attention of any in his immediate vicinity, the man who had emerged from the crowd walked towards them, confidence rolling off the man in droves. And the source of that confidence.....

The snap hiss of his saber told Yavor all he needed to know. And the way he spoke confirmed it for him.

He could barely contain his excitement. Smiling, he turned to the boy, then lightly signaled the others with his hand. Those not busy keeping the girl restrained, including Frektor, spread out around Locke, leveling their weapons at him. Rilos himself took a stance next to Yavor, his own smile etched across his features. With a glance at Yavor, he strode a few steps forward to speak. "My my, what have we here? A little Jedi come to save the day. Why, I think we should all be shaking in our boots...what say you guys, should we quiver in the face of a single Jedi, all alone and but yet a boy?" The laughter spoke for itself.

"So you'll make us will you? Very dangerous words my friend...now let's see if you have the stones to back them up." And in a single instant, the group fired at Locke, a single volley of stun shots that would hopefully catch him by surprise. And as the last bolt fired, Rilos was already flying into Locke's reach....and a blood red blade snapped to life in his hand. A blood red blade that would launch into a sudden onslaught against the boy...and a small presence began the long process of finding a way into Locke's mind.

[Rugs]

They laughed at him.

Go on, Locke silently groused at them, lips twisting into a sneer, laugh me off. I'll show you. His mind flashed back to the Temple. Back to the way Tylan had embarrassed him. To the way he'd embarrassed himself. And then his eyes looked at them all, at the men that so easily dismissed him.

His grip tightened on his blade. I'll show all of you.

Then his eyes found the girl. The slave. She'd fought, but in them he could see nothing but hopelessness. Despair. She was caught and worse, she knew she was caught.

He would save her. He had to save her. That's what Jedi did.

With a light twisting of a knob on his saber's hilt, he turned the intensity up from where it had been. If a fight broke out, training intensity like what he'd used with Tylan wouldn't help; no, here on Coruscant's streets, he'd have to use it for real.

He snarled at the apparent leader's taunt. His mouth nearly fired a retort, but before he could, he could feel danger coming. It was hard to tell what, with his senses as muddied by the alcohol's haze as they were, but something

Probably from the guys that had guns leveled at his chest.

Locke fumbled to get his blade up.

A hail of blaster fire exploded at him as the leader began to lunge. Locke swung his blade around feverishly. The first shot to reach him got knocked away. The second hit him in the shoulder. He yelped a bit and redoubled his efforts, but they were slow, sloppy.

Why can't I..[i/] He furrowed his brows and then gasped in pain when a shot stung his thigh. What are they doing with these shots?

It always seemed like he was moving his blade to the right place, but then he still got hit. And it was harder to move so quickly and keep his balance. He felt sluggish, like he'd been thrown into the deep end of a pool and told to fight that way.

Another shot hit him. And another. And another.

By the time Rilos reached him, Locke was reaching to grab a dumpster with the Force so he could block the shooting that way. He was having limited success in keeping his hold on it long enough to move it, with his mind blurred and his focus assaulted by the rain of plasma searing the air around him.

Then the Force screamed a warning so loudly at him he'd have to be deaf not to hear it.

He looked up to see Rilos looming over him, with a sanguine lightsaber burning in his hand. Shock, mingled with terror, rippled through him. A lightsaber?

"Wha?!"

He let the dumpster go and turned on his heel to defend himself. The orange blade left a hot, glowing gouge in the pavement as he swung it high to stop the heavy downward stroke that was coming for him. The strike was caught, but the force behind it was punishing to his body, which was still weary from dueling Tylan. his knees bent and threatened to give out, but he held them, struggling as he shifted the red saber aside and retreated back.

Or, stumbled back, as it ended up being.

He came to recover, but was too slow. Another strike nearly cut his gut open; instead, he managed to keep it to only leaving a light, stinging burn. He growled and tried to counter, but he was too slow... off for some reason that eluded him. He was forced defend again. Then again. And again.

Rilos' onslaught was too much. Far too much. Locke felt fear start to creep into his mind as he felt himself start to get pressed down an alley that ended in a dead end. If I get trapped down there...

"AH!"

He screamed as he realized his attention had wandered. Except this time, he wasn't facing the man that had become a second master to him. This was a real enemy, with a real blade that wanted to cause him real harm.

That red saber made a deadly lunge at his chest. Locke turned aside, felt the plasma sear the edge of his shoulder. He yelled out, faltering further to the side than he meant to to. The pain was terrible, even through the fog that filled his mind. But the wound wasn't deep it. His arm was hindered for the fight, but once it got some attention it would be fine.

If that man didn't harm it further.

With his defense already compromised, Locke made a choice. He clenched his teeth against the pain from the saber's burn and let his own saber snapped out like a snake's strike at Rilos' elbow. Then, summoning all the strength he could against his inhibition, he threw his consciousness forward, trying to slam it against the man's mind.

As weakened as the intoxication had left his will, it was a terrible idea.

As the mental attack went forward, he stepped again, trying to slam himself against Rilos so he could run him through with his lightsaber in a follow-through attack.