Be it ever so humble...

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Socorro Guardian Academy​

​

It had been a few months now, maybe a bit longer... Julius had pulled back a bit from the Galactic Alliance, in favor of a recognition he had begun to see within himself. He was simply not strong enough for the role many of them wanted him for. Not wise enough either, not by half or more. Talent was there, certainly, but skills were lacking in either refinement or overall existence. Before he could step up to truly lead, he had to find himself, to find the center within him.

Whereas earlier he had rushed headlong into things, now.. Now he was sitting back, thinking about what to do, and how to do it. He hadn't abandoned the Corellian people and the Green Jedi. But there was more a focus on relief and aiding them that way. If he intended to lead them from their Broken World to freedom - either on a new home or by overthrowing the One Sith and restoring Corellia - there were steps to take. First and foremost was to make sure he was the one suited for the job. The second, just as important in the end, was to make sure there was something there to save, and something there to prevent a power vacuum from causing chaos again.

Reall, he reflected, as he extinguished the cerulean blade of the lightsaber he held, it was a deep process, the path of self-knowledge. One he wasn't entirely sure he was ready for. But in the end, if one waited until they were ready for a thing to happen, they might find that they were waiting their entire life. So he had come here, to Socorro, to live and forge anew things. His plan was that, in the process of rebuilding and finding himself, he would also be building something for others to come and do the same at.

Looking up past the wall of the tower that had reared from the sand, he scanned the skies, hilt of a lightsaber still in his hand. Eventually, his eyes returned to what he held, and thoughts back to it, and his journey yet to come. The journey this saber had started, if he were honest with himself and others. Psychometry and visions were things alien and foreign to him, but still burned into his mind like a vivid and half-healed scar. The histories this thing had seen woke up a certain knowledge within him. What he had, the Force sensitivity, the talent itself, the abilities in combat..

It was more than a gift to spend impressing girls and getting free drinks out of. Not that there was anything wrong with chasing a skirt, or a good drink. But they had been the focus of his life, and it was time to put other things first. As he awaited perhaps one of the few beings in this Galaxy he could call friend, or maybe even brother, he ignited the blade again, and smiled as the swarm of training droids rolled forward. Sabers on the three Tyro droids ignited, and the Tyee ball-remotes floated up, beginning to fire at the Corellian as he began to move, attired solely in tall spacers-boots and his breeches, mop like hair soaked in sweat.

War waited for no man, and there was one brewing.

[member="Meeristali Peradun"]

 

[Meeristali Peradun]

O, brother, where art thou? Soccoro was the answer to that question, and first arid desert entry on the eternally growing list of worlds he had set foot on since leaving Felacat at twenty-five to become a Jedi and find his cousin; this was the closest he had been to his birth world in around a decade, and he still felt no pull to return. He had a life out in the galaxy beyond that was beyond compare with anything he might have had if he never left. While he no longer stood with the Republic, and while his cousin had once again gone off the grid - she knew how to not be found better than anyone he knew - his reasons had changed. He was a Jedi, a soldier, a friend, a lover and partner, a adoptive father to two boys, Destin and Armaud.

That was all too sobering, having small ones that were truly helpless, and they added to the reasons why he fought and trained, blending ruthlessness into his efforts. Though not of his flesh and blood, he felt the same as if they were, his time amongst the Mando'ade having shown him that family is more than blood; the prospect of his own blood descendants was one he was more willing to entertain in recent years, once the pressure-borne aversion to the concept with his own kind had faded and ceased to rub off on his relationships... well, relationship with a non-homeworlder. Avalore. Adopting Gabriel and Chevu's children with her was one of the clearest decisions he had ever made. One he knew with certainty that he would never regret.

It was for them, for Avalore, for his brothers and sisters in arms that he went to Soccoro, turning a ring back and forth on his right hand - intended for Armaud upon his eighteenth birthday - before he slipped in through the academy's front entrance to find his friend, or maybe even brother, [member="Julius Sedaire"], and get a look at the place, listening for the telltale sounds of lightsaber work to track him down, and track him down the he did. An opportunity to watch the Corellian move was always a welcome one, and one he never interrupted unless necessity required, finding a piece of wall to tip himself against to track Julius and the remotes with attentive orange eyes. It was the way of things, when preparing for war. Preparations that needed to be kicked into high gear.

War waits for no man, the march relentless as time itself.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

As he moved, he sensed 'Stali approach, and almost smiled, before one of the three saber wielding droids near took him in the eye. A last minute gut-wrench, a tingle of danger, was all he had for warning. A numbing bolt from one of the four remote balls took him in the knee, but it was better than the alternative, to be sure. But somehow, the Corellians movements were more assured than previous fights. The weeks and months of studying had led him to a grace that was before wild movement, and now was an fluidity and grace that was.... Different... The frenzy of Ataru had mellowed with the precision of Makashi. How he fought now was not strictly either, to be sure, but an amalgam of both. Something new, almost. And most definitely infinitely more lethal.

The lessons in Instinctive Astrogation from [member="Jorus Merrill"] hadn't taken their intended course for improving his piloting ability. But he has discovered, much as Master Kenobi had, a different application. The dance of the blades edge, spinning merrily between the hail of blaster fire. The hit to the kne was the first one he had taken so far in this session, and he moved all the faster. If another was scored, the typhojem would activate. That would be his undoing, honestly. He hadn't managed all eight of the droids at once. Assured victory was much lower insofar as number of opponents.

Regardless, he moved, and for once he actually used the Force for more than an alarm system in combat. Subtly, and not as strong as some, but it was a huge development overall. He leaped over one droid and bent it near backwards, severing it's command column with a swift strike, and then letting it's jerking motors hurl it forward. Assisting the motion with the Force, he hurled on top of a training ball remote and threw his saber in a swift arc, striking and deactivating two of the four balls before the blade returned to his hand. The remaining droids regrouped, and he smiled almost feral in nature, leaping forward. The remaining two saber-droids cornered him, and then dropped one another as they went for heavy handed slashes, and he just spun right out of their reach, watching them strike and disable one another.

The final pair of blaster remotes were disabled with swift deflections that sent their blasters right back into them and dropped them to the sand. With that, he turned, the ancient lightsaber in his hand deactivating with a hiss as he clipped it to his belt. Sweat dripped and faintly gushed from his pores, his chest hitching in breath as he stood stark still for a moment. Eyes closing, he took a breath and held it, and suddenly it was as if someone had flicked a control switch. Breathing calmed, his muscles began to relax, and a few more moments and his eyes opened, a grin spreading across his face widely as he walked up to grab a towel to wipe his face and arms with, and chugged on a large bottle of water.

" 'Stali... You made it finally! You should have called ahead, I would have been at least dressed...Good of you to come and visit! It isn't much, granted, but it's home now-a-days. A place to train for myself and others, for the times ahead. I think a few of them might even have learned a thing or two... Though... These droids are stupendously expensive to repair. And I seem to be fast approaching the point that the regular ones are.... Less than effective, unfortunately. But the tyophjem one... That... That one is intense when it's in with the others."

Taking another swig from the bottle, which was perhaps surprisingly actually smelling of water, and not Corellian whiskey, he smiled.

"So what finally brought you out to here? Did you just miss my smiling face?"