If you can't run, you walk...

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Sullust Base of the Galactic Alliane, Training Center​

​

Armor... It was a rather fiddly problem for Julius the longer he was in the front lines. Before, serving the Republic, he had always been on his own, or with a small squad of commandos or one or two contacts. Never whole squads or companies of soldiers. Never in a pitched battle like this. The Vanguard armor was doing alright, he supposed, but what was truly missing wasn't so much the armor, as it was his abilities within it. He was used to the loose fitting robes and tunic of the Republic Jedi, and as such his formal training with a lightsaber reflected it.

Ataru was a graceful, fluid form of speed and agility and focused on maneuverability in combat. You couldn't land a hit on something you couldn't reach, much less something you couldn't see. Makashi was less flashy, but where your feet may stand on the ground, so to speak, you relied on precise, razor accurate strikes of blinding speed. Armor, in his experience, hindered those, and without training, he saw no real way to overcome that adversity without just blindly suiting up and risking his life and the life of his soldiers by trusting to luck. And he wasn't prepared to do that.

Sitting cross-legged on the ground before a bench, Julius silently meditated, waiting for the two he had invited to the lesson to arrive. Floating before him was the simple polished tube that serve as his lightsaber, taken apart into a myriad of pieces as they floated and faintly hummed with the force. A large duffle of olive drab sat next to him, and sweat beaded down his forehead even though he was dressed in loose fatigue pants tucked into simple combat boots with a simple wife-beater tucked neatly into the fatigues. Ever present, his bolt pistol hung on a peg just above his head where a simple twitch of the Force would drop it right into his hands.

Ever since his time in the Republic, this exercise was akin to how some non-force using soldiers tended to strip their rifles to pass the time and calm nerves. Taking apart the saber and putting it back together with the Force created a sort of bond between Jedi and the weapon that served them. Plus, it had the added benefit of making sure nothing had happened to the weapon during it's previous fights. Sighing softly, he began the slow process of precisely fitting the weapon back together piece by piece, pulling a wire here or there that might have slipped from it's place. They would be here soon, he hoped.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Meeristali Peradun"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Meeristali Peradun"] [member="Julius Sedaire"]

Sarge had once been like Julius - a man who prized mobility over protection. That had been the Protectorate's go-to for military strategy; fast, mobile, highly trained infantry supported by light armor and heavy air support. But as Sarge had transitioned from a strategically supportive role to a tactically offensive one, the armor had shifted. Gone was his plate carrier and cammies, gone the bayonet and camo cloak.

In its place came the powered armor. He'd used some during the Plague, but even it was less 'powered armor' and more exosuit. It had clung to his body, and been designed to allow him maximum speed and efficiency while reducing profile and incorporating the tools necessary to complete solo operations that could sometimes take weeks. Over time he'd learned how to fight in it.

Not that it was really a learning process so much as it was a 'getting comfortable' process. It was not unlike breaking in a combat boot. You felt like you were sluggish, but the difference was negligible. Much of the challenge was mental. So while he knew he'd been called upon for training, he didn't know what for specifically. Training took all shapes and sizes, and so he did what he always did.

He came into the training room with a silence that defied his size and weight. "Julius, I presume." Came the gravel rumble of his voice through the helmet as he approached the man.

 

[Meeristali Peradun]

Armour. In all his years to date, he'd never worn the stuff; until the Galactic Alliance became a part of his life, until he signed on with the Hounds, and suddenly, armour. Armour that, of course, didn't account for a tail right off the production line. It was the same story as at Eclipse Station with Marcello Matteo - the tail got crammed into the vacsuit as an afterthought of the design, and the effect on his demeanour was noticeable, but not unmanaged. The Vanguard armour was far from his first jaunt with un-tailored suits, and he'd deal until he didn't have to.

Still, there was a silver lining to acclimatizing to the armour, or not, in that he'd been connected with a man who walked a path not too unlike his own; when the invitation came, he put it into his schedule and planned to show up, hell or high water. It was the way he was, a commitment was a commitment, and he entered the training centre in the wake of a suit of power armour when the day came. When the man within the power armour spoke, it pinged a far-off memory, long before the Republic-One Sith war, and very early into his days as a padawan; a memory he set aside as it had nothing to do with this, now.

Watching Julius, the Felacatian grimaced, being reminded that he had yet to replace his lightsaber after Manaan, as he was reminded daily. There had been other more pressing concerns, having to do with how he lost that tool in the first place, which in hindsight was embarrassing, what had went through his mind in that instant and what, or whom had made it all happen. It was the same day he'd acquired the acid scars that mottled a corner of his face, and streaked into his hair.

He crossed his arms, and waited for a response alongside the power armour with the faintly familiar voice.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"]​

 

[Julius Sedaire]

For a few scant moments the two would be left to wait, as the last of the pieces rotated, and like a set of tumblers in a lock clicking into place and rising with his eye level as his hands slapped to the bare duracrete floor and he almost vaulted up, saber dropping as the soles of his boot hit floor. Flipping the emitter up, he thumbed the activation switch and nodded in satisfaction as it hissed into life with a brilliant blade of orange and then shrank back into the hilt with a whisper of released energy. Smiling, he nodded to the man before him in armor as he clipped the saber to the belt hanging on the peg, grooves in the leather showing it had spent some time in that very spot.

"Ahhhh... I am Julius, yes.. And you, you must be... Well, i've never heard of you called anything but Sarge, so I guess that is what passes for your name? Regardless, thank you kindly for accepting my invitation..."

There was a glimmer of a smile, quick and roguish, as he glanced to Stali and nodded his head in return. The man was one who came highly recommended, and the path Julius had chosen was not one that would tolerate idleness or being at ease. Not only would he need someone to challenge him and train against, but he would need someone there for the hard times, to push him forward. All reports indicated this one would be just such a source of strength, and a solid comrade, both in war and out of it when training for war. Hopefully, he would be able to provide the same to Stali, and the two could encourage one another unto greater heights and to yet unknown parts of their strength.

"Ahhh... Meeristali, I presume? You came recommended as someone who might be able to walk with me on the path I am about to seek. So I thank you for showing, truly. Hopefully not only will you being here help me... It will help us both, in the end."

Turning, Julius regarded Sarge for a moment, almost as if sizing the man up. There was no shift in the Force, no hand-waving tricks, merely a moment of regard from an aspirant soldier to one who was the Galaxies prime example of what it meant to wage war. Julius kicked at the duffle, where his vanguard armor lay stacked and disassembled and folded up neatly. The clank his combat boot made when it hit it let the other two unmistakably know what was in the bag, as did the swift shake of his foot as he immediately regretted the kick.

"Now... I'm not sure how detailed Sarge got with his examination of my comm to him, but the gist is this... This here Alliance has come to like sending me out on the front lines, as a commander of soldiers and full on soldier... I've only ever fought in small groups. Strike teams, special forces and commando raids for the Republic when I was part of their Order. Front line soldiering, wearing armor and shooting a gun and the like... That's new to me... Even more so is the whole using my lightsaber while wearing that armor... Makashi and Ataru are terrible in any sort of protective suit, much less heavy armor that can stand up to the charge... So I called in someone who perhaps could show me the ropes, and another who could help me with the rest, and benefit from the lesson... I don't brag when I say I'm pretty damned good with that saber... But I could, and need to be better... The first steps are figuring out how to use it when i'm properly armored, and all the proper ways to fight in armor in general..."

Here he gestured to Sarge...

"This is where you come in, big guy... Word is you know a thing or two about the subject... And.. Well... I'd appreciate any wise advice so I don't get myself, or more importantly, my men, killed."

[member="Meeristali Peradun"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge cast his gaze to [member="Meeristali Peradun"], recalling nights in the Temple with an auburn haired young woman who had become quite attached in quite a hurried manner. If Sarge hadn't been used to having that affect on women, perhaps he would have seen it as a warning sign.

He was fairly certain around that time was the last time he had laid eyes on this particular individual, and he merely gave Stali a nod in quiet greeting. It had been, what, eight years?

Helmet turning back towards [member="Julius Sedaire"], "Sarge is my name." His voice was flat, as though the answer should be obvious. If Julius were sizing the man up, he'd probably find what was to be expected. Sarge kept his hands in near fists at all times, his head always seeming to be on a swivel.

But the most telling feature was the faint stoop to his shoulders that said he always expected trouble. "If we're going to train," he says, pulling a saber from a loop at his waist, "...suit up."

Perhaps he would be more verbose later, but for now, he was terse; direct to the point of appearing rude. Just like a soldier.

 

[Meeristali Peradun]

He shrugged when [member="Julius Sedaire"] spoke to him, though it was more lift for one shoulder than the other, what with the weight of his own duffel.

"It's a good thing. It will be a good thing."

Eight years, and all he'd ever been was baffled with her when she continued to be sour over [member="Sarge Potteiger"], despite the presentation of facts. Old history was just that, old, and best left where it belonged, with whom it belonged. He returned the nod in much the same way, and set his citric gaze back on Julius while he continued to talk. He rolled the shoulder to which his own duffel clung, when the short conversation shifted to Sarge speaking very little.

"You heard the man, Julius," he said, moving towards the other Knight and clapping him on the shoulder, "let's get these things on and work on making less of a fool of ourselves."

Then he slipped his hand off of that shoulder and went about doing just that, starting with unclipping a borrowed lightsaber from his belt. He'd have to tackle the building of a new one sooner rather than later, if the walk he was going to take with this man looked anything like what he thought.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Julius just chuckled at the taciturn nature of Sarge as he replied. Not everyone was a conversationalist, and truth be told, he couldn't blame the man. Likelyhood was, when you had seen as much as he had... You sorta stopped being shocked by anything. And being numb long enough had to wear you down. That, or maybe the man was just naturally of few words and didn't particularly favor talking. To be honest, it mattered little he supposed. He had agreed to train Julius and Meeristali, and so the Corellian dropped his bag on the bench and began the process of unzipping it and armoring up.

Almost, he felt silly be comparison as the pieces went on. Every engagement ended in downtime, and Julius spent that time, in between training, with cloth and lapping oil and powder, polish out the blaster scars and repairing scales and the like on the Vanguard armor. The result was a pristine, and almost new looking suit. Indeed, only in a few places was a battle-scar deep enough to leave a noticeable impression, and even then all traces of carbon scoring and the like were scrubbed clean.The process was familiar to him, but not terribly so, and he wouldn't be surprised if 'Stali beat him armoring up.

Clipping the last bit into place over his flesh, he nodded to Sarge his assent, standing at a loose ready. There wasn't really any way to be sure what was coming, and he was curious to see what tact the warrior took. A hand reaching behind him, with a tug of the Force, and the simple tube shape of his lightsaber fell into his hand, clipped swiftly to his armored form.

"How do we begin then, Sarge?"

[member="Meeristali Peradun"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge shifted his weight, adjusting a knob on the hilt of his saber to set it for training. They didn't need to actually be cutting into the armor today. Pressing the red stud inset into the weapon, a silver blade erupted from the cylinder, a faint twinge of blue visible within the beam. He'd always used Krayt Pearls for sentimental reasons, and they produced the different color.

"Attack me." He says flatly, "That's how we begin."

The saber was brought up at a low ready, giving away next to nothing of his preferred style. "I want to see how you fight currently before I can offer you reasons for why I fight the way I do."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]
[member="Meeristali Peradun"]

 

[Meeristali Peradun]

Though it wasn't a competition, beat him the Felacatian did. His familiarity with the armour was only greater than that of [member="Julius Sedaire"] by a nigh-insignificant margin, but was helped by his quick natural reflexes, his dexterity - to say, it couldn't be helped, and he was fully suited up with enough time to watch the other knight finish the process.

"Your gig, Julius," he said, once [member="Sarge Potteiger"] gave the answer to Julius' question, "your start."

The unfamiliar 'saber hilt would do until he could make the trek to hunt down another crystal, and the materials to build his second personal lightsaber. The humour was that the first one hadn't been used in combat even once before it was lost, either sunk to the bottom of Manaan's vast oceans, or taken as a trophy by a Sith. Pushing the memory aside, he then activated the 'saber in his right hand and waited, watching his soon-to-be training partner for his first move.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Julius stood eyeing the armored form of Sarge, contemplating for a moment. Stance shifted as he tried to adjust to the weight of the armor, how it sat on him, how it pulled and tugged just standing in a casual stance of readiness. There were obvious pinch points on his limbs, near their joints, and other such things. Nothing was terribly detrimental at the onset, but as ever was noticed, there was enough little annoyances here and there, the aspirant battlemaster could easily see where his inexperience in such heavy armor would be a hindrance, given his training in lightsaber combat were almost exclusively oriented around speed, agility and precision of movement.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he closed his eyes as his saber was tugged off his belt and ignited in a quiet snap hiss of brilliant light, a traditional and quite bright blue. It was a simple, utilitarian thing of his. There was little sentimentality or individuality put into it, like many of his things. This was a weapon made out of sheer need and desperation when his saber from the Order had been destroyed on his time in the Outer Rim. The light illuminated his face is stark shadows for a moment, before he rocked into a stance, feet perpendicular and placed at the width of his shoulder, arms bent and loose, torso turned to the side and saber held up parallel to its' wielders body.

The stance was held a moment as Julius felt the Force awaken his mind, invigorating his muscles and his everything really. The first strike should, and would be a simple one, just to probe the admittedly intimidating warrior. The young Knight had no questions despite his prodigy status with a blade, that the odds weren't laying in his favor. And so he tried a favorite move of his, true to the blended styles of Ataru and Makashi. With a simple twist of hips hips as he brought his blade back, the brilliant beam of light was forcefully arced down towards Sarge's clavicle, and then at the last second, the Force blurring his reactions to superhuman speed, the Jedi took a hopping step back and then reversed, lunging into a power, precise thrust even with his shoulder and going straight for the left side of Sarge's armored chest with a double handed grip.

[member="Meeristali Peradun"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The man was used to speed, which meant Sarge had already known not to over commit to anything that wasn't a sure bet - either in a hit, or that he could defend himself adequately. Retaining his rather noncommittal stance. Defending the first strike was a simple shifting of the blade in his hand, bringing it up at an angle to stop the downward strike. But it had a secondary advantage, one Sarge used as Ijaat hopped away and then attacked again.

With both hands on his weapon for the time being, he kept the weapon in position - he just shifted it into the path of the blade by sidestepping to the left, allowing the blade to catch along his own where he'd been standing a moment before. He pushed it out of the way, fluidly transitioning the re-positioning into a sharp elbow to the head of his opponent. He wasn't using the Force, either.

Rarely did Sarge spar with it. He'd always had issues with training - he'd nearly killed enough people in the process that he was always on edge. But they had thick enough armor it likely wasn't a worry.

He still hadn't considered [member="Meeristali Peradun"] making it a two on one though.

[member="Ijaat Akun"]

 

[Meeristali Peradun]

Two-on-one it wouldn't be - no, in his mind was the consideration that not only would Sarge be better able to gauge their aptitudes one at a time, but it was also a prime opportunity for Peradun to observe Sedaire, and vice-versa; information that would go a long way to pushing each other to improve.

To that end, the lightsabre was switched off, and his free hand settled for hanging on to the other wrist where the hilt was kept in hand. Orange eyes tracked more the movements and reactions of the other knight, than the actions of the master - that wasn't to say that he didn't keep tabs on the way the man in the power armour moved and reacted, but Julius was still the focus of his stone-faced observance.

Altogether an adequate use of time, while waiting.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The attack was pretty easily brushed off, and Julius internally noted amateur tricks weren't going to work. Not that he truly expected them to, if he were honest. The commitment needed to the strike would normally be easy to reverse, easy to counteract, in robes or lighter armor. Simply pivot around to face his side-stepping opponent from the other side and then lash out with a response, using the momentum of the pivot to lend speed and force to his strike. But this armor.... It was something else...

While it remained, for the degree of protection it offered, amazingly light, it was hardly weightless, and the constriction around the hips, thighs, and such made it especially hard to pull off what he would have done normally. The elbow flying at his face was another concern, and he made the best out of it by throwing himself into the pivot, ducking as he could, his movement a blur. The elbow would still hit solidly on his chest, just short of the front of the throat thanks to the angle he found himself at.

There would be not much of Ataru usable in this, the weight and restriction was such the fluidity and leaping the form was fame for was just not practical. Usually he would have tried that to avoid the elbow entirely, but he was well aware something would likely go wrong even in that regard, and so the pivot turned into a full fledged spin as the armored forms connected, carrying him past the other warrior as quickly as possible, spinning his saber in a quick cross over his body as a clearing action while he rocked back into a ready stance, breath hitching only a little from the impact, humming blade of light held at his hip closely, tip out and up at an angle to point at Sarge, waiting his move.

[member="Meeristali Peradun"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Meeristali Peradun"]

Sarge felt his elbow impact the chestplate, the pivot and duck to carry himself around Sarge causing the warrior to turn and keep Julius within view. The clearing action had the somewhat desired affect in that Sarge took a single step back and away, bringing his saber around with both hands to swat the cross aside - though the impact meant they had more or less stopped each other's blades.

But with Julius stepping back, Sarge debated the merits of breaking with the saber style and going with his gut; a quick step forward and a kick to the chest.

This was a learning experience, though, and Julius need see how Sarge fought with his saber in a proper manner. Only once you'd gotten that down could you add your own flourishes to make the style your own.

So he took a step back, set himself again, and waited. "A few more attacks, Julius, and the armor will feel less cumbersome on your body." It was a second skin for Sarge, but then again, he'd been wearing powered armor for probably a full decade of his life.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Julius nodded in response to Sarges statement, eyes furrowed in thought along with his brow, chewing the bottom corner of his lips lightly. Body muscles stayed relaxed, thanks to his conditioning and training. But he was no idiot, he knew the move, spinning like that in armor, was too slow to avoid consequences. Either Sarge was finally feeling his age, or he was taking it slower on the young Knight so as to let the Corellian get his feet under him and truly learn to 'walk' so to speak, in this new form.

Stepping forward, he lashed out rather easily in a simple cut from left to right, the saber held in that just-right grip of not too loose or tight in his right hand, the cut put at about shoulder high, aiming to make contact with Sarge's right shoulder in the weak spot almost all armors had. As the saber flashed out to try and knick his instructor in the armpit, Julius threw a punch that was purely derived from the bowels of Corellia. A straight up, no frills left hook aimed right at the jaw of Sarge. Unlike most times, the Knight didn't burn his Force reserves to empower the punch... This was just to test Sarge, and his own ability as well.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Meeristali Peradun"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

There were times Sarge missed the use of a quarterstaff - he was more at home with one of them than a saber. But Sarge knew what a one handed strike meant; you sacrificed power for the open threat of your unoccupied other hand. Sarge was right handed, just like Julius seemed to be. With the cross body attack, Sarge shifted towards Julius' right, pushing his arm to keep it from completing the cut.

While punch came up, but it wasn't going anywhere important as Sarge hooked his leg in behind Julius' and put all his weight into pulling him off balance while swinging the saber down - two handed - towards his hopefully exposed back.

[member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Meeristali Peradun"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The cut was dispatched rather easily, and Julius grunted a bit in consternation. Again, just a hair too slow, a fraction too weak due to the effort it required to swing the saber at speed in armor. It was like moving in water, or some sort of liquid that applied drag just so really, and so he began to try to evaluate how he would fight in this gear better. A concentrated duel was going to be more difficult than dispatching foot soldiers and just survival fighting in a mass melee... The precision and speed of Makashi and Ataru just weren't really the best choices in this situation, but truly he knew them best.

When younger, he had made a cursory study of Djem So, and there was some logic to attempting to apply it here he supposed. So as Sarge hooked his leg and pulled him down to strike at his back, Julius rolled into the hook, pushing off with what remained of his footing. The blow would hopefully hit air and take the two combatants down into a heap on the floor. As he bowled into his instructor, he clenched his fist, and with a swing aimed a punch at whatever part of Sarge he could reach, the Force invigorating his muscles, but only just so... Only enough that even in the armor, the titan of war might feel it. Then he seemed to have an internal realization as time ticked by like tree sap from a maple farm..

Well, tackling someone in armor when I don't really know how to fight in it might not have been wise... Oh well...

| [member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Meeristali Peradun"] |

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Julius responded well, pushing himself off and out of the way of the swing with a brief roll that almost, but not quite, tipped the tank-warrior over. Why didn't it? Simple, there simply wasn't enough momentum applied to topple the hundred-kilogram suit of armor - more than ten times the weight of the armor Julius sported. Granted, as it was powered, Sarge knew his armor felt closer to 15 or so, but it was still a huge amount of weight.

More or less stepping over the roll with a stumble caused by his foot clipping Julius, Sarge did the first thing that came to mind as he turned and a fist came up from his opponent. He lifted his right foot and swung it around in a quick, sharp kick towards the cheek... utterly forgetting the man wasn't wearing a helmet. This was why Sarge should never attempt to train anyone.

[member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Meeristali Peradun"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Well, his brilliant idea was not quite what the intent that inspired it had seen happening. The weight of the armor wasn't unanticipated, he had just been unprepared for the totality and amount of it. So as he hit the floor, he saw the foot coming toward him and inwardly cursed. Trying to think fled his mind, and instinct took over in a big way. A kick from Sarge in full powered armor would like result in his brain leaking out several orifices. And so he opened himself up to the Force, lurching forward in a sudden blinding burst of speed. It wouldn't be enough to avoid the kick entirely, but it would connect with his stomach in a whoosh of air just as a blurred punch burning with as much strength and Force-power he could push behind it swung right for his instructors groin, in the under part that no sane armorer would ever plate because of crippling mobility and comfort issues.

In for a penny, in for a pound...

That was all Julius thought as he half lay on the floor, his arms sprawled uselessly, his knees trying to raise him up off the floor, willing his diaphragm to work and pull some sort of oxygen into his lungs so he could begin breathing again, coughing and gasping.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Meeristali Peradun"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

Sarge wasn't entirely sure what he expected, but he was quietly thankful for the ballistic gel-layer that formed a halfway point between armor and undersuit. There was an instant where he realized he'd just been punched in the taint, more or less, enough impact hitting his sack to cause a dangerous growl to rumble up from within the man. Usually composed, there wasn't much that got Sarge off his game - that is to say, there wasn't much that pulled the beast from it's cage.

But if Julius were hoping to do so, a groin punch was an excellent way to do it.

Reaching down bodily to the man, Sarge actually turned off the saber and discarded it, the cylinder clattering to the decking and rolling away even as a gauntlet reached down to hoist the other soldier by the gorget. The opaque orange lens of his helmet was inscrutable, but there almost seemed a sneer to the former Lord Protector's posture. Turning, Sarge made to drag the man over to a wall where he could just drag him up to his feet before he paused.

There was a momentary realization that he was about to do something stupid, and he paused, releasing his grip. "We're done." Thankfully, the distortion of his helmet masked the sheer agony that was the nerve endings in his stomach, aching in that excruciating way they always did when one got decked in the... deck.