Zasy & The Brute

“Come!” The Brute barks. But Zasycet hesitates. Her reappropriated, stolen lightsabers suddenly feel very heavy. Her palms sweat. She thinks she should’ve worn gloves. The Lord Brute stands past seven feet in stature. She, a slender Pureblood, has barely crossed five feet. The prospect of sparring a massive, muscled, Zabrak with a speech disorder was not as thrilling as she imagined the previous night. Taking a breath, she moves swiftly for the attack. Her steps are graceful in form-fitting ultraweave and polymer composite light armor built for sparing. She almost glides atop the stone of the Proving Grounds as if dancing.

However, somewhere between her fifth and sixth step to close upon the giant orange Brute, Zasycet fails to make any ground forward. Her feet no longer touching the stone of the training ground, she levitates, a once elegant stride now a futile flailing of limbs. Hand extended, Wohnus the Lord Brute grips her with the Force, tossing her into one of the decorative braziers lining the sparing ring.

“Kriffing cheat!” Zasycet screeches. “This is not fair!” She tastes blood in her mouth, her teeth dug into her cheek at the impact. She writhes against the stone pylon, pinned. “This was a form training session. You asked to see Ataru”

“Combat is fair?” Asks her attacker, his voice a low growl that emanates from his core. He slams the apprentice against the pylon again, provocation and punishment for whining. The loud thud of her body against the brazier bearing stone structure causes Zasy to yelp in discomfort. “Well? Come!” Another impact and the pylon teeters.

“Ooomph! Stop! I can’t!” Her head throbs. Her shoulder aches. She’s already dropped the saber from her right hand. “Can’t move!”
Wohnus is pushing her. Pressing her. “Focus.” He slams her again. She’s cursing. Spitting blood. Tearing up. Perhaps a swell of emotions might yield something in the way of progress.

“Damn- umph- you…” She’s barely able to get the words out. She sees her saber hilt on the ground. Fly… make it… The metallic hilt skips on the stone, bouncing toward Wohnus. It tumbles and spins up at the Brute, whacking him in the shin. It’s enough force to make a bruise. And Zasy drops to the stone.

“Better…”