The planet of Crait, known mostly for its salt covered red soil and minerals, became the setting for the reborn legend of Luke Skywalker. The tale of the First Order's siege upon the remnants of the Resistance and Skywalker’s solitary last stand spread like wildfire throughout the galaxy. The scars born of the siege still remain, alongside the breached and empty carcass of what was once a rebel base. After what became known as the Battle of Crait, the planet now sits forgotten by the First Order and Resistance alike. Which makes it the perfect place for scavengers and adventurers.

The crystalline flats extend far into the horizon until the distance ceases to hold meaning. The scorched salt mingle with the red soil, forcibly fused together by the violent discharge of heavy artillery fire. Old rebel speeders lie as skeletal reminders of the toll that the Resistance had paid in staging their last stand. Most of the parts have already stripped of what parts survived.

Standing opposite the endless flats is an expansive mountain side that stands almost completely vertical. Climbing it would be a difficult, if not impossible prospect. Tall, heavily armored doors—now breached—are built into the mountainside itself and mark the entrance to the abandoned base.

The approach to the base is lined by fallen turrets and crumbled trenches. Once inside, various crates and shrapnel litter the ground and offer nothing of value, save for cover when in need. The cave system expands outward from the entrance in a winding maze of crystalline pathways. If traveled long enough, and with some luck, an unmarked exit lies to be found. The hangar itself is divided into purposeful quadrants, with a command station situated deeper inside that leads to supply rooms and barracks.

Standing on the salted ground gives even the least perceptive a sense of gravity. The weight of what transpired is undeniable, with the visible reminders there for all to see if they care to look.

The planet is also known for its native crystal critters—Vulptex—which can leave the safety of their underground tunnels to investigate new visitors to their terrain.

Ryan strode out onto the salt flats from the shuttle, frowning slightly as the abrasive soil already began to do its work on the fine polish of his boots. His brown robes were caked on the bottom with a fine, white dusting of salt, giving the unflattering appearance of sourdough bread which the knight found incredibly unbecoming. He shook his head. It wasn't just the effect that the flats had on his wardrobe, but also that this place was hallowed ground. A place of sacrifice and great power for the Jedi and the Force. It felt like sparring in a memorial to a fallen hero or a cemetery. Perhaps that was the reason this place was chosen for the testing of skills: the psychological effect it could have on the sentimental. He glanced at the abandoned base about 300 meters away and nodded almost subconsciously in silent salute.

It was hard to sneak up on anyone in such flat and desolate terrain and as his eyes scanned the horizon he found a young Jedi in dark armor tracking across the desolation, blaster rifle in hand. The distance was far too great to make out much else but Ryan slowly slipped his outer robe off, revealing the agile and old fashioned Clone Commando armor the knight favored. He reached his hand across his belt and drew his refulgent lightsaber from his belt, its azure blades springing to life as he raised his weapon in front of his face in salute and patiently waited. His heels stood together and his posture erect and composed. The figure turned.

“It's good to see a fellow Knight of Hoth!” Ryan shouted.

“Likewise!” the figure replied, his voice young, his intonation that of a soldier and professional, the pleasant but clipped words of a soldier greeting a comrade as opposed to two friends out at a cantina.

“Well...” Ryan continued, “Proceed at your leisure, sir!”

Ryan snappily lowered his salute and assumed an aggressive posture, whirling his sword up to a raised position over his head as if ready to descend and strike at any moment. He realized however that his lack of tactical acumen had caused him to make a grave mistake.

While the abandoned base would favor Ryan's desire to close with and engage the enemy in hand to hand and lightsaber combat, here he was vulnerable to blaster fire. Even as much as the Force could carry him swiftly into range, all it would take is one well-placed shot from a powerful blaster and his armor would not be able to hold up. Ryan saw his opponent level his blaster, and it was all the cue he needed to bolt for the hangar, the Force pumping through his muscles, suffusing every fiber as he took off, jinking and weaving hoping to throw off his opponent's shots.

The report of the blaster sizzling near Ryan drove home the fact that he had chosen his terrain poorly. The intelligence of the library and dueling ground serving little purpose in an unusual environment. If his opponent were a Sith, this fight would leave him dead. As it currently stood, the lesson he was learning from his housemate would at least be quite painful. It was unlikely he'd miss again in such wide terrain between his weapon, marksmanship and the Force. Thinking quickly Ryan ran faster and pushed out hard with the Force in every direction, sending salt flying and trying to lose his opponent's aim in the dust. He deactivated his lightsaber to avoid drawing more attention to his position as he attempted to refocus and minimize more tactical errors as he hid. The choking and sputtering caused by the salt as it whipped upwards caused him to shout in angry frustration as he slammed his helmet from his belt onto his head. His style was now cramped as well as his pride.

The reprieve was temporary as soon shockwaves seemed to come from everywhere, thudding against Ryan's chest through his armor like a savage drumbeat. His ears rang even with the aid of his helmet. The soldier was continually proving his acumen by switching to the grenade launcher of his weapon and relying on either hitting Ryan in the blast or flushing him out. One nearby explosion rang his ears like a gong and sent what felt like a punch in the gut through his entire body. He winced as he attempted to focus the Force into his muscles for one last burst as he burst free of the pale clouds and into the cold, dark embrace of the base. His breath heaved and he recentered himself, taking time to recover as he reactivated his lightsaber and backed away from the entrance. His opponent would likely pursue and after such a display of the Force, he needed every breath he could to bring this to grips and end it with blade and fist.

I think he got the point, Creon thought to himself with a small smirk. He took the time to take a knee and reload the grenade launcher on his rifle. He also reached into his utility belt and unclipped a small flashlight with a clasp that fit perfectly on his weapon. It was clever of his opponent to use a dust cloud as cover, though it did leave Creon a little salty. He expected a game of hide and seek in the abandoned base, and put his faith in the Force for when the ambush came. While holding his rifle at the low-ready position, he strolled casually into the base.

Once Creon arrived just passed where the shadows of the mountain base banish Crait’s sunlight, he brought his weapon up to see Ryan approximately ten meters away in plain view. He had a boxer’s stance, one that Creon recognized.

“Is there a man behind that rifle?” Ryan asks.

A martial artist, likely his greatest strength. He wants to fight me on his terms, Creon inferred from the taunt. “Is your measure of a man his ability to inflict harm or to end life? Is he more of a man if he does so in an intimate way?” Creon responds. He figured he should oblige his counterpart to some degree, though he wasn’t going to meet his challenge entirely. Creon let his rifle slide to it’s magnetic holster on his backside. He then removed his helmet and let it fall to the side. “There is a Jedi,” he answered with the ignition of his lightsaber.

Ryan smiled to himself and activated his own lightsaber. Let’s see what he’s got, he thought as he turned his body to the side while holding the blade overhead. The juggernaut pushed himself forward with a side step and slammed the blade downward with a twist of his hips. Creon simply whirled his blade like a fan and redirected the momentum out of the way. Ryan followed up with a horizontal slash aimed across his opponent’s abdomen. It too failed from Creon’s blade sliding upward along Ryan’s blade, causing the horizontal attack to go vertical. The exchange between Ryan’s offense and Creon’s defense continued for an annoyingly prolonged time without any gain. Ryan started to get a little agitated. There was no way around this guy, and he didn’t even try to retaliate or riposte. He decided to change things up with a step backwards and await Creon to take the offensive. He quickly regretted the decision once he saw Creon aim a wrist rocket on his left arm and fire small explosions.

“Hey!” Ryan snapped while dropping his stance and jumped away with aid of the Force.

“Hey, what?!” Creon barked back. He drew his pistol and began a series of intentionally missed shots at Ryan, who rolled behind some abandoned crates for cover. Creon sent the crates flying forward with a push from the Force. Ryan was able to roll again out of the way again, just in the nick of time. But now he no longer had any cover. Ryan's head swiveled until he spotted another nearby series of crates just a few meters away and dashed towards them. However, the young knight came to a complete halt when Creon fired a warning shot in front of his path, “You think the Collective is going to fight on your terms? You think a Sith will invite you to the dojo?”

The soldier then tossed his pistol to the side. Ryan was a bit surprised by the display and slowly began to meet him with a defensive posture. Creon slid off his rifle with the Force and set it to the side away from them. “War is chaos,” he said while he continued to disarm himself of his lightsaber, wrist rocket, and thermal detonator. “It’s not fair, it doesn’t care about your measure of a man, and it will find the easiest way to kill you and move on. A warrior is someone who participates in just that, war.”

Before he was a bit annoyed, but now Ryan was a little ticked off. Just who does this guy think he is? He’s just as young, and yet he’s preaching to me like a sensei to his student. He knew this fight wasn’t in his favor in the beginning, but he has no more rank or experience that Ryan. So where does he get off thinking he’s better? His pride was already being pushed, but what Creon did next really set him off.

A small injector was tossed to Ryan’s feet, “It will help,” Creon said in a calm tone, “In case you’re injured.” He then brought up his fists in boxer’s stance.

Ryan kicked the injector aside and assumed a similar stance. This was the opportunity he had been looking for. Ryan was about to teach his own lesson to Creon; one about the true way of combat, a fighter’s discipline, and the dedication to perfecting his skill. Ryan launched himself forward with a burst of speed aided by the Force. He saw Creon sink into a squat and tuck his arms to his torso, exposing the head. It was a perfect mistake, and Ryan punished it with throwing a side hook with his left arm. His fist stopped short, however, from a blunt impact on his knuckles. He growled at his hand that throbbed in pain like crazy. It was like punching into a stone wall, but nothing was there.

Creon couldn’t help but escape a chuckle, “You good man?”

"You good?"

“Better than you think.”

Ryan smirked, gave a slight bow of his head in gallant salute, then whipped his hips, slamming an armored, well-conditioned shin into the invisible wall which deterred him from the close combat and satisfaction he craved. While not the most puissant of combatants, the brutal, whipping nature of the roundhouse powered with the strength of Ryan’s whole body held bone-crushing power. The barrier held as Ryan’s leg returned to his fighting stance. Creon continued to smirk at Ryan’s frustration, but another rapid kick followed, springing from the floor powered by the Force now rippling through Ryan’s muscles. It smashed again into the barrier and Ryan felt it give as Creon strained to maintain it, further bunkering into his stance as a look of surprise momentarily flashed across his eyes.

“I am no mere dandy.”

Ryan clenched his calloused fist and continued his aggressive assault. With a weave and slip he drove up with all his force into a rising, shoveling hook at the same spot he’d hammered with his kicks. He steeled his wrist and hand for the impact, conditioned by long practice and this time ready for surprises. He felt like he was punching through taffy as his fist tore through, losing momentum as the combination of pain and the strength of the barrier robbed force from his blow. Thankfully, he didn’t intend to actually hit the soldier. Opening his hand the punch became a grab as he seized Creon by the armor, dragging him forward with practiced leverage.

Creon was no slouch and delivered a nasty hook of his own to attempt to prevent what was to come next. However, being pulled off balance and suddenly in a range too close to effectively power his strike, it landed with a thud off Ryan’s armor. The martial artist roared as he hefted Creon onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry before wheeling him to the ground in a powerful slam, trying to land as much of his weight on him as possible.

“I know all about Sith and their dojo,” Ryan spat as he pinned Creon to the ground under his weight “and I know about how the measure of a man is more than killing. I’ve done some killing, some bone breaking, and let me tell you I was…” His mind flashed with grim memories of his time as a Sith. Of the horrible mistake he made those years ago to try and save…

His hands trembled in anger and in pain as he grappled hard with the powerful Creon and it was Ryan’s superior grappling technique alone which was keeping him from getting tossed aside by the Jedi’s struggles. While he was likely unable to beat him senseless through his armor, joints could never be armored even on the most heavily kitted out man, lest his armor be an immobile coffin. Ryan grasped and wrenched Creon’s arm in a powerful shoulder lock, wrenching at the joint, fire in his heart. He hissed.

“No. Great. Man.”

Just as he heard the beginnings of popping and damage to the shoulder of his opponent he found himself launched by a powerful burst of the Force as if shoved off by an unseen giant. Ryan soared through the air like an awkwardly shaped leaf on the breeze. A leaf with lead fishing weights tied at random points, as Ryan flailed to find his orientation. Slamming down hard into the floor only Ryan’s practiced breakfalling skills saved him from much greater harm. Rolling to his feet, he staggered as the pain of concussive blasts from earlier seemed less like the rush he craved and more like a dumbbell hanging from his body, painful and enervating. Ryan looked up to see Creon levelling his blaster rifle at him. It seemed he had gone back to Plan A.

With a click Ryan slowly raised his hand and removed his helmet, smirking slightly though with shame in his eyes, whether from frustration at defeat or from nearly losing control was hard to say. Ryan bowed his head.

“I admit defeat, Housemate. Thank you for your comportment and the experience.” Ryan winced and slowly rose as Creon’s blaster remained trained on him. “That sort of fist fighting grandstanding will get you killed on the battlefield. It’s not good soldiering,” the Jedi replied.

“I’m no soldier. Like you, I’m a Jedi.” Ryan replied plainly and rose to his feet walking away in acknowledgment of his defeat at the hands of the better marksman. In deference to the soldier.

“What is wrong with you?!” Ryan said as he shook his own hand, “Where is your sense of honor? Of pride?”

Creon dropped the barrier, there was no sense in doing an exchange of throwing things with the Force. He was going to give Ryan what he wanted. Ryan could sense it too, he could feel Creon’s intent to be genuine. Finally! Ryan thought to himself as he removed his own helmet to meet Creon’s gaze, the real fight begins.

Ryan approached with a few feinting jabs with his hurt hand and looked for an opening to cross with the other. Creon was somewhat of an agile enough dodger, even in the armor he was wearing. Ryan actually had trouble getting a good hit in. Any attempts of a side hook, uppercut to the head, or hit with the knee wasn’t going to do him much good. The distance those attacks had to cover would take too long, especially in his armor that was starting to weigh a toll. Ryan stayed on the offensive with feinting hooks followed by uppercuts. He managed to get an uppercut blow to the torso after Creon opened up his elbows to block a crossing jab. The hit caused his opponent to grunt, but it didn’t seem to affect him as much as it should. Creon then tucked and turned to his side with some jabs of his own followed by a kick to create distance.

Ryan needed to change styles. Creon was too focused on protecting his exposed head, and hitting the armor did little to nothing. Using the impact from the weight of his armor might do the trick. Ryan lowered his upper torso and ran in to tackle Creon. Creon sank into his stance and began punching down at Ryan’s head as Ryan wrapped his arms around Creon’s waist. He then slid behind the soldier, squatted, and lifted with his legs with a roar to try and perform a suplex. When Creon felt himself being lifted, he clicked his heels together and activated his boot thrusters. Both combatants were sent into the air and landed hard against the cavern wall of the base just slightly above the ground. Creon then deactived the thrusters and the two landed. The impact was fine for Creon, but Ryan looked to be out of breath. Creon then quickly turned and delivered a cross to Ryan’s jaw that sent him to his knees.

“Pride,” Creon said as he took deep breaths to lower his heart rate, “isn’t something to be proud of.” He took a few steps away from Ryan to allow him to catch his breath. He found a seat on one of the crates and then just stared into space towards the opening to the outside, “Sure, keep your dignity, but pride itself elevates the ego. You’ll constantly compare yourself to others, rationalizing some sense of superiority or inferiority. This always happens, especially for men and combat. We get arrogant or conceited. It’s not us we need to focus on, but everyone else.”

Creon takes a small pause and lets out a sigh, “I get it. We put in the time, we work hard, and we fight odds that are always stacked against us. We’re Jedi Knights, and everyone knows that it’s the harder road to take. It would be nice to get recognition for it. But we can’t go seeking it, or always having something to prove. It distracts us from what we do, which is helping others.”

Ryan took a moment on his knees to try and catch his breath and register Creon’s words. Creon didn't seem like the bookworm sort, but there was wisdom in his words. Ryan remembered that he elected to defend the innocent and keep the peace by becoming a Jedi. It wasn’t about how he did it, or what measures it took to attain it, only that peace would be achieved. If he spent too much time focusing on himself, he would lose grasp with the reality that there are those in need of him and depend on him. He wouldn’t be able to do it alone with his fists, either, or a blade. He needed to expand his horizons, instead of focusing on just one or two forms of fighting.

Creon glanced when he saw Ryan pick himself back up. The soldier came back to his feet and once again resumed his fighting stance.

“No, I’m done,” Ryan responds.

“Oh?” Creon says in surprise, lowering his fists.

Ryan approached Creon and met his gaze, reached out with his hand to shake, and said in a respective tone, “I agreed to come out here to better myself as a fighter. To learn something from a new opponent. I believe i’ve done just that. Thank you.”

Creon smiled and took his hand, “We all have lessons we can teach each other. Maybe next time you can invite me to the dojo.”