[i]“Concentrate on only your breathing. In and out. Envision yourself at the base of a great tree stretching out into infinity, the roots are connected to every living creature each breath sending vibrations and movement through the branches. Let yourself be present in one unifying moment with the galaxy....”[/i] Master Feemor continued to speak in a winding baritone as he and his padawan sat in the center of the Sparring Arena. It had become a customary tradition between the two for the longest time, they would go into a small meditative state before beginning their sparring with one another. The intent was to calm the body and the mind before going into battle, to prevent the temptations of falling to the call and temptation of anger against your foes.

“Yes Master...” Feemor’s padawan sat across from him in the large bowl-shaped chamber lying near the heart of the temple complex. Her name was Charuri Rol and in a strange way she had missed this. For what seemed to have been a life time the pair have been traveling across the galaxy resolving problems as they arose in the name of the Republic; it was never a dull job and between assassins and political intrigue trying to keep the peace was about as easy as finding a credit chip in a pile of bantha poodoo. But now since they were put on leave to cash in on a well deserved rest, their schedules had freed up considerably. It was nice to know that at least for a little while nobody was going to try and kill you, and that they could just do “normal” things for once like practicing their lightsaber forms and searching for long forgotten texts in the archives, all the while making the archivists want to rip the hair out of their heads. 

“Good, I believe now would be as good of a time as any to get started don’t you think Charuri?” The padawan couldn't help but grin as she opened her eyes and slowly rose from her seated position. Feemor stood across from her with a face of tranquility but with eyes that seemed to be laughing. He was an older man for a human at least, past the close side of fifty. Wrinkles accented his face where he smiled and hair having been receding from his head which was once blonde had turned gray framed by a beard of the same color that hung across his face. The pair give one another respectful bows as they reached for their lightsabers, the cool metal against Charuri’s hands give her a small comfort as she pulled it from her waist. Moments later the characteristic [i]snaphiss[/i] was heard  as the pair ignited their weapons. Feemor’s a brilliant yellow and Charuri’s a calm green, the blade power had been sent to low it would still hurt to get hit by them but they would do no lasting damage. No need to play with danger when you were training of course.

“Let’s go with the classics shall we? First person to make contact wins.” Thus they began to circle one another slowly at first in a counterclockwise motion tracing the circumference  the barren floor of the drum-like sparring area, watching and waiting for any movements. Charuri tried her best to try and remain calm but her own mind was battling against her. Almost a constant replay was going through her head of the last five times the two had sparred and of each time when Feemor had easily won despite his advanced age. What was she suppose to suspect though? Feemor was a master at changing between lightsaber styles in battle, mid swing if needed, something his old master had drilled into him after learning it from the late Darth Tyranus before his fall to the darkside. But she tried not to let the past affect her that much, Feemor had always said we must learn from the past but not dwell within it or become slaves of our failures. Yeah well that was easy for him to say of course.

Feemor moved first his feet changing direction on a dime as he moved forward easily almost like he was dancing; Form II Makashi. Charuri dropped into the Soresu opening stance, leading leg positioned backwards as the anchor and the nondominant ready to spring, off hand reaching out in challenge. Her eyes watched taking in movement as Feemor came in. He flicked out with his  right hand and the saber came down high aiming towards the head. Charuri having been drilled time after time again moved without hesitation, her entire body pivoted  agile and flowing like the mynock  as her hand came up with a horizontal guard placed high. Blades met and the sound of plasma on plasma vibrated through the air. Feemor pulled back only to repeat the attack again and again aiming for different zones as he pecked at her defense. He was toying with her. 

Then it all changed. She noticed the movement in the foot first, his foot turned and leg braced. Form IV: Ataru, she barely had time to react when he spring. His body was propelled through the air with a graceful flip and a blur of yellow him came crashing down from above like an avalanche. The first time she had been subjected to the move, the sheer force of it had thrown her to the ground but she knew better now and instead of bracing her feet launched herself upward smashing her guard into his blow dissipating the blows energy as the two met. Feemor did not pull back this time though and moved almost instantly into his next attack, the characteristic wide sweeps of Ataru. He fought with a great strength behind each blow and determination but never anger he seemed almost completely at peace with himself each blow flowing the ever changing current of the force. The relentless assault began to push Charuri back towards the wall of the chamber, sweat beginning to form and her arms yelling out against the weight being thrown against them. 

Her own time came for a counter attack came as the two clashed sabers again, in this clash Charuri managed to be the victor pushing his blade to the side and opening him for her own push. She switched from the careful and moderated movements of Soresu into the more raw and simplistic swings of Shii-Cho. She focused not on the blades, but on the little details her breathing, and her heartbeat to keep herself centered, for these sparring matches were not just to keep their skills up but a way to teach her to keep tabs on the notorious Cathar temper, for a person that can keep their emotions in check in the heat of battle can keep them in check anywhere. Feemor was flowing through each block but even so he himself was being pushed back by Charuri advance. Even though his face did not display it stuck in a visage of concentration as sweat dripped down it he was impressed with his young padawan. She had grown much in the years they had spent together and come into her own in many ways even a year ago he couldn't imagine the idea of him giving ground to her but here they were.

This tug of war continued for several minutes, each launching larges bouts of tranquil fury and the other receiving it in tandem holding off. This constant drill swings then heavy blocking tore through the body as each and every muscle needed to work together to weld the unruly blade with even a little shed of efficiency Yet they fought on in an oddly peaceful like trance, bodies moving with the force the lightsaber becoming true extensions of one’s self. And yet it all came to a sudden end rather quickly. They both saw openings after the two had just back off of yet another great clash and they moved with the force of a crashing wave to exploit them. Charuri reached out swinging at her master’s side and Feemor swung high and a second later they both stopped. Green hovering near the human’s side, and yellow hanging near the Cathar’s head..... A draw.

They both pulled back in silence disengage their lightsabers and looking at one another both panting as they felt their heartbeats slowly progress back to a normal rate. Feemor was the first to crack as he slowly began to chuckle, a deep sound that seemed to fill the entire room. Charuri found herself laughing as well until they were both just consumed with the laughter shaking their heads.

 “Hey, I almost won that time!” She called out towards Feemor was a cocky grin on her face, all in good jest.

“Almost, but it would seem this old man still has some tricks up his sleeve and besides I wasn't even trying........”

[hr]
[i]It is the 981[sup]st[/sup] year since the Ruusan Reformation, and all seems well. But the force is moving and changing like a storm, and darkness hangs on the horizon.[/i]