[ If Luke had anything to his credit, it was his adaptability and his bullheaded stubbornness to survive. He did falter at the unusual weapon at first, his mind having trouble wrapping around how it was supposed to work and how he could best counteract it, but after a few blows he was adjusting his stance, shifting himself to match Nox blow for blow. ]
[ But Luke's lack of formal training was glaringly obvious. It was clear he had some training in Form V and also knew the very basics, but everything else seemed to be a hodpodge of reflexive self taught survival and bits and pieces of other forms he may have picked up elsewhere. It was a style that worked for him, but it wasn't anything that would have been taught in a Jedi Temple. ]
[ He also didn't seem to anticipate someone fighting on Nox's level of dirty. It was clear he sensed that something was coming, but he didn't know how to counteract it, and instead the lightning jolted through Luke's lightsaber, into his prosthetic hand. He let out an awkward noise, something between a yelp and a strangled noise as he tried to just let the pain pass through him, but... ]
[ And now, young Skywalker. You will die. ]
[ Luke suddenly, violently pulled himself away from Nox, his knees wobbling unsteadily as a hand went to his mouth in a vain attempt to fight against the rising bile in the back of his throat. He fumbled for a bush instead, ejecting the contents of last night's dinner into it. ]
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[ But Luke's lack of formal training was glaringly obvious. It was clear he had some training in Form V and also knew the very basics, but everything else seemed to be a hodpodge of reflexive self taught survival and bits and pieces of other forms he may have picked up elsewhere. It was a style that worked for him, but it wasn't anything that would have been taught in a Jedi Temple. ]
[ He also didn't seem to anticipate someone fighting on Nox's level of dirty. It was clear he sensed that something was coming, but he didn't know how to counteract it, and instead the lightning jolted through Luke's lightsaber, into his prosthetic hand. He let out an awkward noise, something between a yelp and a strangled noise as he tried to just let the pain pass through him, but... ]
[ And now, young Skywalker. You will die. ]
[ Luke suddenly, violently pulled himself away from Nox, his knees wobbling unsteadily as a hand went to his mouth in a vain attempt to fight against the rising bile in the back of his throat. He fumbled for a bush instead, ejecting the contents of last night's dinner into it. ]