Keepin Corellia Weird
Credits... Credits were always a need, if one that Julius wished he could ignore at times. The Corellian Jedi movement needed some, so they didn't have to rely solely on handouts and charity. Luckily for the one time Republic Jedi, he had made contacts on the Outer Rim during his smuggling period, however brief it may have been. And that was what he needed now. Fortunately, the Galactic Alliance was much less uptight about its' members personal activities so long as they didn't fall under the Dark Side.
That was what had brought Julius to this Force-forsaken and near derelict space station out on the Rim. There was a less than savory contact of his awaiting his arrival, and as he stepped from the Turhaya he smirked. The man, a Mandalorian of dubious birth species, was definitely scum, by the galactic definition. But he paid well, and what he was asking of the Corellian wasn't terrible, from a certain point of view. Not really. Just general mass-market arms and armor for resistance cells in the Outer Rim.
As Julius stepped towards the armored form, he raised his hand in greeting, and then stopped cold. He wasn't one to sense things through the Force much. Premonitions and funny visions and prophetic dreams and the like. But something faintly radiated from his some-time associate. And as he did a quick assessment of the man, he saw what. Aran, as he was called, was known for hating Jedi... Yet a lightsaber hung from his belt, one that called to him in the Force, and one whose form he and almost any Jedi knew on sight..
Dispensing with formalities, Julius pointed at the Mando'ad and then to his belt.
"That doesn't belong to you...."
That was what had brought Julius to this Force-forsaken and near derelict space station out on the Rim. There was a less than savory contact of his awaiting his arrival, and as he stepped from the Turhaya he smirked. The man, a Mandalorian of dubious birth species, was definitely scum, by the galactic definition. But he paid well, and what he was asking of the Corellian wasn't terrible, from a certain point of view. Not really. Just general mass-market arms and armor for resistance cells in the Outer Rim.
As Julius stepped towards the armored form, he raised his hand in greeting, and then stopped cold. He wasn't one to sense things through the Force much. Premonitions and funny visions and prophetic dreams and the like. But something faintly radiated from his some-time associate. And as he did a quick assessment of the man, he saw what. Aran, as he was called, was known for hating Jedi... Yet a lightsaber hung from his belt, one that called to him in the Force, and one whose form he and almost any Jedi knew on sight..
Dispensing with formalities, Julius pointed at the Mando'ad and then to his belt.
"That doesn't belong to you...."