Private The Jedi Hero of Corellia

[Balun Vale]

Corellia, Coronet City.
Julius Sedaire .

Balun Value had immersed himself in the heartbeat of Corellia for a full cycle of sun and stars. Just as he had traversed the urban expanse of Mygeeto before, he arrived on this vibrant world via public transit, eager to soak in the sights and rhythms of Coronet, the pulsating heart of the planet. For twenty-five hours straight, he wandered the bustling streets, his eyes hungry for the newness of the city, his mind searching for a foothold in this alien terrain. It was a quest for both shelter for the night and a means to sustain himself during his stay, a quest that proved elusive for much of his time. Yet, there was a peculiar liberation in shedding the comforts of the past, those luxuries once found within the hallowed halls of the New Jedi Order Temple. Here, in the midst of his own endeavors, he carried only what he had earned through grit and determination.

The chill of the night found him as he traversed the labyrinth of streets, seeking out secluded corners where he could steal a few precious hours of rest. But with the dawn, a new resolve dawned within him. Balun emerged onto the thoroughfares of Coronet, weariness etched upon his features but determination blazing in his eyes. As he moved through the throngs of passersby, their conversations washing over him like the ebb and flow of the tide, he caught snippets of discourse—galactic politics, local affairs, mundane details of daily existence. Yet, it was a chance remark from a young couple seated nearby that caught his attention, a mention of a local legend whispered in hushed tones.

Seated outside a quaint café, Balun's ears perked up as the woman spoke of the Green Devil Inn and the enigmatic figure rumored to haunt its halls, a relic of the Jedi Order, a veteran of wars long past. The notion intrigued him. Could there truly be a Jedi lingering in the shadows of Corellia's nightlife? And if so, what wisdom might he impart, what perspective might he offer, untethered from the strictures of the Temple?

With a determined nod, Balun rose from his seat, his mind made up. He would seek out this elusive figure, this renegade Jedi, and perhaps find answers to questions that had long plagued his restless soul. For though the path of the Jedi had been laid out before him from infancy, it was a path he tread with uncertainty, yearning for a glimpse of something beyond the confines of tradition and duty. And so, with purpose in his stride, he set forth toward the Green Devil Inn, his heart aflutter with the promise of discovery.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Standing behind the bar, Julius had a towel draped over one shoulder, dressed in a nondescript spacers shirt with First Class bloodstripe trousers. The bar was clearly, even before the rush of the later afternoon and evening, not exactly the cleanest or most respectable. Bounty hunters and other residents of the rooms upstairs sat in chairs sipping everything from kaff to whiskey and discussing plans and jobs. From all walks of life and all planets and species, the one unifying factor was that nothing beyond spirit of purpose tied anyone here together really.

Adjusting his ring from the Kathol Outback on his left hand, Julius spare a glance behind him where his old armor stood in a glass case with other relics from the war to liberate Corellia from the One Sith ages ago. Bringing his Jed-Cred to his lips, he pressed a reverent kiss to the one he carried as his, and the one he mourned his beloved and departed wife. Tucking them back into the longcoat he wore habitually to ward the cold off of old bones, or so he said. A burnished beskar pauldron with the symbol for Clan Verd sat strapped to his left shoulder, and a K-22 Executioner variant Bryar pistol slung to to same side rode on a drop holster on his thigh.

A cursory swipe of the counter with the towel gave him the chance to confirm his lightsaber was still in place under it for emergencies. He straightened and limped over to the bar to pour a fresh bit of kaff into his cup, just in time to feel the new presence of Balun Vale walk in. The gifts of the Aing-Tii training and his precognition kicked in then, the Force reaching out in a way it hadn't in years. Without turning around, he spoke out to the grizzled former CorSec sergeant at arms that was now his door guard and a permanent resident of the Inn.

"It's alright Max. He's here for me. Let him through, and for the sake of at least eight of the nine Hells, don't scare the lad. Take a seat boy, food and drink coming up. The non alcoholic kind, at your age. Then we can talk about why you're seeking out old geriatric warhounds"

Turning, he cracked a crooked grin at the new entry and busied himself setting out a heavy breakfast or nerf steak cooked tender and juicy, eggs, hashed Dxunian tubers, and a glass of blue milke and Nabooian citrine juice as well.

Balun Vale

 

[Balun Vale]

As Balun crossed the threshold, he found himself face to face with the imposing figure of the bouncer, a veritable mountain of muscle and menace whose very presence seemed to dwarf Balun's lithe frame. This sentinel of the establishment, armed and vigilant, exuded an aura of authority that hinted at his capability to enforce the rules with an iron fist. Balun couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension at the prospect of being summarily ejected should he step out of line, a possibility that loomed large in his mind.

However, just as Balun braced himself for a potentially tense encounter, salvation arrived in the form of a voice emanating from the depths of the Green Devil Inn. A timely intervention spared him from the scrutiny of the bouncer, granting him entry without so much as a word exchanged.

As Balun ventured further into the dimly lit interior of the inn, his gaze fell upon the figure who had seemingly anticipated his arrival. Julius Sedaire , the name whispered in the rumours that had drawn Balun here, stood before him. Yet, the man who met his eyes bore little resemblance to the stoic image of a Jedi veteran that Balun had conjured in his mind. Instead, Julius appeared to defy expectations, a living contradiction to the stereotype of the solemn, unyielding guardian of tradition.

Seating himself as instructed, Balun regarded Julius with a mixture of curiosity and scepticism, his keen eyes assessing the man before him. The disparity between expectation and reality hung palpably in the air as Balun voiced his surprise, his words tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "I heard rumour of a Jedi, a figure of legend—a war hero, they said. Yet, you... you're not what I expected," Balun admitted, his tone betraying a blend of admiration and perplexity. "I'm Balun Vale," he introduced himself, his name a humble offering in the presence of one whose exploits overshadowed his own. In this place, amidst characters of dubious reputation, Balun's modest identity seemed insignificant, a mere footnote in comparison to the storied past of the man before him. "I grew up in the Order on Coruscant but I'm on my own now. I wanted to see why a Jedi Master would seclude himself from the Temple".

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Snorting, Julius grabbed his kaff and produced a flask from within the coat and tipped a bit of the amasec he crafted himself into the drink and stirred it with a idly sloshing wrist motion as he eyed the lad.

"I'm not at the Temple because the Temple gets in it's own way too much. Politics and government only muck up the job of a Jedi in my opinion. You need to stand up for those can't stand for themselves. And asking 50 people for permission before you do and getting denied 30 times is pointless. Find the problem, fix the problem. Do the best you can and let the Force, not mortal ego, be your guide in the moment. Even if you fail in the effort, the Force has a grand path and will that you were probably serving if you do it right. And you won't always. But one time out of ten is better than none..."

Sipping the steaming drink, he smirked ever so slightly and nodded to the armor behind him as he took stock of the lad.

"Would it make you more comfortable if I tossed on the armor and robes? I might have to widen the utility belt on the armor, I think I got fat since the last time I wore it. Age'll do that."

A commotion broke out at a table, and as the bouncer stood, Julius didn't even look to it, and in truth he was responding before it happened, if a careful eye was paid to his movements. A whir and blur, and the bryar pistol was out of the holster, and the drink bottle a patron had raised to smash another with had broken in their hand from a low powered shot, spilling cheap liquor over the offender and wounding there ego and maybe scorching fingers... Nothing else thankfully. Spinning the smoking blaster back into it's holster, he nodded as Max lumbered over to remove the overly aggressive Rodian.

"Sorry about that. Never a dull moment here at the Inn. Anyway, Balun Vale. I am Julius Sedaire of the Corellian Jedi. Storied hero, battlemaster, Rebel and sometimes drunken rabble rouser. I married a Mandalorian warlord and sired children that hate me and won't speak to me, and literally tore the Galaxy apart looking for her when she vanished. I cast the One Sith and their ilk out from this planet. And I've broken more rules, killed more innocents, and failed more people than I can recall. So how can I help you, lad?"

Balun Vale

 

[Balun Vale]

The swiftness with which Julius Sedaire drew his blaster and unleashed a shot of pinpoint accuracy was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Balun's senses jolted at the sharp report of the blaster, his reflexes urging him to reach for the comforting weight of his lightsaber, only to find the threat swiftly neutralized by the imposing figure of Max, the bouncer, who effortlessly subdued the would-be troublemaker and escorted him out of the Green Devil Inn. Stunned into silence, Balun stood rooted to the spot, his mind struggling to process the whirlwind of events that had unfolded before him.

As the adrenaline ebbed away, leaving a residue of disbelief in its wake, Balun turned his gaze back to Julius, his perception of the man transformed in an instant. The ease with which Julius had handled the situation, coupled with his unwavering composure, evoked a newfound respect tinged with a hint of envy. At that moment, Julius embodied the epitome of skill and mastery, a paragon of strength and decisiveness that resonated deeply with Balun's yearning for purpose and direction.

Moreover, the words that spilled from Julius's lips resonated with a familiarity that struck a chord within Balun's soul. The frustration with the stifling dogma of the Jedi Order, the suffocating weight of expectation—these were sentiments that Balun knew all too well. For too long had he chafed against the constraints of tradition, longing to forge his own path in a galaxy fraught with uncertainty.

"You're accomplished; you've seen and done things that'd probably make most people chit their pants, I get it", Balun remarked, his tone tinged with a touch of youthful candour. "Before I left about a year back, the Temple was all I'd known. It was suffocating" His words spilled forth in an unfiltered stream of consciousness, raw and unguarded. "But now that I'm on my own, I've been too busy trying to figure things out. I didn't tell the Jedi I was leaving when I did, so I still have the few things they gave me, lightsaber and all, but I haven't trained much lately and if you'd be open to it, maybe you could spare some time to teach me some of what you know?" He spoke freely, coming to the request without any prior consideration or planning; "I can pay you for your time, of course" he lied, led by a sense of desperation to improve his skills in the Force.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"Your money ain't good with that direction. That's borderline insulting. If I decide to train you, you'll pay in blood, sweat, and tears. I haven't had a Padawan in decades. I'm not an easy teacher, and orthodox methods aren't my thing. I expect my pupils to learn by doing. And learn more than moving rocks and how to spout philosophy most can't understand. We'd be spending time in the trenches and sketchy places of the Galaxy, causing mischief for the power that be to help the common man. Gun running. Front line war waging. Covert government destabilization to overthrow tyranny. You'll learn to command soldiers, defend yourself and others, and maybe a bit about who and what you are... "

As he spoke, despite the youth's age, Julus reached under the counter and pulled a bottle of Whyren's Reserve from under it. One of the rare few bottles that was before the distiller changed hands and, in his opinion, 'went to chit'... He poured two shots, sliding one to the kid and grabbing the other, hoisting it to the boy as suddenly a light danced in his eyes and vitality seemed to suffuse the elder. He stood straighter and seemed stronger and more hale.

"If you're wanting this, you also have to learn to drink. It's not just to numb yourself, it's ceremonial in this case. Seals our compact and says you'll work with me to become a Jedi worth the name"

Gaze still held. He wasn't one to dissemble and use pretty words in these situations. There was a time for that, and he could gab with the best of them. But not here. Not now.

Balun Vale

 

[Balun Vale]

In the presence of Julius Sedaire , intensity radiated palpably, an aura distinct from the measured demeanour typical of Jedi Masters within the serene confines of the temple. His speech eschewed the circuitous pathways of diplomatic dialogue, opting instead for a raw honesty that cut through pretense. In guiding Balun through prospective activities aimed at honing his skills, Julius broached subjects that the traditional Jedi curriculum would veil in caution, recognizing their inherent risks. Yet, unlike the cloistered caution of the Jedi order, Julius presented these topics with an air of casual familiarity, aligning seamlessly with Balun's personal ethos of aiding the downtrodden, a beacon of pragmatic compassion amidst ideological rigidity.

Initially, Balun's apprehension flickered like a wavering flame, his request for guidance unwittingly escalating into the semblance of a formal apprenticeship plea under Julius's unyielding gaze. Such an unexpected turn gave pause to Balun, who, in most circumstances, would have retreated. However, Julius embodied a departure from the archetypal Jedi archetype that Balun had grown accustomed to; he exuded authenticity, his feet firmly planted on the ground, devoid of the sanctimonious airs that often permeated Jedi discourse. For the first time, Balun entertained the notion of apprenticeship, a departure from his erstwhile stance of dissuasion, notably directed at his friend Falentra on Coruscant.

"You don't mess around, huh?" Balun's response emerged tentatively, his gaze momentarily drawn to the shot glass before him. While no stranger to imbibing spirits, his previous experiences paled in comparison to the offering Julius presented, retrieved from beneath the counter with an air of significance. It was not merely a libation; it was a revelation of the unvarnished truths of the galaxy. A smirk betrayed Balun's attempt at composure, acknowledging the unprecedented gesture Julius extended, diverging from the rigid strictures of Jedi tradition.

As Julius unfurled a litany of experiences encompassing gunrunning, frontline deployments, clandestine operations, and leadership roles, Balun's astonishment bordered on incredulity, tempting profanity to punctuate his disbelief. Yet, a sudden self-awareness tempered his response, a reluctance to convey unworthiness clouding his initial impulse. Extending a hand toward the shot glass, Balun poised on the precipice of acceptance, awaiting Julius's tacit approval to embark on this unorthodox journey.

"Okay then, I'm all in".

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"Oh I mess around plenty. Just not about this."

He grabbed the shot, clinking the glass to the lads and turning it once in his hand he slugged the whiskey back and dropped the glass on it's mouth upside down on the table, Sighing in satisfaction, he turned to Max.

"Ey, go rouse that damn wookie who's behind on rent. It's moving day. Boy here needs a room. And I don't want to hear it, before it starts...."

Shaking his head, he eyed Balun Vale with a wry smirk.

"Tell him to charge a line of Sith in flak armor with a blaster and he's good. Ask him to evict a delinquent tenant, or much at all to do with wookies, and he gets squirrely. Never could make heads or tails of that bit."

Sighing, he took stock of the temple and turned to a red head that was slinging drinks.

"Tessa, you have the bar. I'm gonna take the new kid out back and see how he dances for a start. Balun, with me lad... We need to see what the Order left out in your training before we go chasing trouble."

 

[Balun Vale]

Watching as Julius took back the shot glass of alcohol, he swallowed it as if it was your everyday beverage, Balun mistaking the man's experience and assuming that the liquid fire wasn't as strong as he initially figured it would be. Reaching for the small rounded glass, Balun brought it closer to his side of the counter and gave it an apprehensive eye before raising it to his lips and just going for it. He took back the shot and swallowed before he had the sense to change his mind. Immediately the liquid lit his throat ablaze, causing Balun to turn into his sleeve and cough against his arm, blinking several times to try and avoid his eyes from watering.

"Ugh. That's horrible" he exclaimed, trying not to sputter as he spoke through the burning sensation of his throat. As the pain slowly receded, his throat was filled with warmth, sending a shiver up his back as he could still taste whatever God's awful drink Julius had poured for him.

"Wookiees can be pretty intense," Balun replied with a raspy tone, forcing himself to seek out a distraction, turning to look back towards Max, the hulking Hurglich of a man. "Even if he is nearly as tall as they are, they still have crazy strength to rip his arms right out of their sockets," Balun explained, watching as Max sauntered off as he was instructed. "There's a friend of mine who's got a Wookiee Master and she reckons he can be pretty proud and stubborn. I wouldn't want to get on a Wookiee's bad side either....-Then again, I've never fought a Sith either".

Balun listened as Julius Sedaire turned and spoke to a rather attractive-looking redhead, and as Julius spoke, his attention was pulled away from the woman back to....-Well, his Master, he supposed. Julius had spoken of Balun having a room of his own, and for the first time in his life, he wouldn't have to share a space with other students, unless you counted the last year where he had slept anywhere he could find that was quiet and safe enough. By the Force, if Falentra could see him now, she'd call him a hypocrite for the chit he had given her when she had become an apprentice.

"Lead the way then, I guess," Balun acknowledged Julius' instructions, following closely behind him. "We're using training frequencies, though, right? You're not going to come at me with a fully powered blade, I'm hoping."

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"Definitely training frequencies. You're lilkely barely crawling by my standards. One day, maybe, we'll go full bore. But not today."

Walking through a back hall, Julius propped open a door into an alleyway like passage that opened up into an almost oasis like urban garden. Great care was obviously taken to keep the plants and such alive in this lush little space, and in the middle stood a pit of black sand from Socorro. Pells, idle lightsaber training droids and remotes and various bits of weaponry stood stacked and waiting to one side of the pit, tools for students and for Julius to practice with. Walking to the side, Julius stripped off his heavy longcoat and blaster and such, laying them in a neat pile and nodding for Balun to feel free to do the same. Then he stepped to the sands, bare from the waist up.

"Take some time, stretch, meditate, pick up a spare weapon. Whatever you wish. When you're ready, step to the sand and we'll begin."

Thumbing his saber down to a training setting, Julius began a series of dance like movements, swaying and swirling with arcing footwork that left an almost artistic furrow in the sand as his feet sank under it. The light glinted off the metallic whorled tattoos given to him by the Aing-Tii, and several others on his flesh and bone arm and across his torso. Military unit insignia, a Mandalorian clan or two and more, they marked a varied and storied life of adventure and to some insane risk and wild actions based on dubious choices.

As he moved and weaved, the saber began to snap and twirl, all his movements seeming almost disjointed and yet harmonious in some odd and chaotic way. The warm up movements of his particular branching style of Vapaad, influenced as it was by his background in Makashi and Ataru. And so he moved in fluidity, waiting for Balun to step to and begin.

Balun Vale

 

[Balun Vale]

Balun Value had skipped out on many a lightsaber class in his time with the Order, Julius Sedaire would be correct in thinking that he would merely be at a crawling standard by comparison to the aged and experienced man who led the boy through to the unexpectedly serene scene that was the plantlife surrounding the pit, black sand lining the obvious sparring ground where they would commence the first session of their training together. "Honestly, I always found it a bit of a drag sparring with other students. My classmates always got excited about it, like using a lightsaber was why they were in the Order, but beating each other up just seemed stupid to me" Balun explained as he moved first to study the plant life within the training grounds.

One of the many plants that appeared to be well cared for, caught the boy's eye. "You have Nysillin in here..." Balun exclaimed as he walked towards the flora, placing his hand gently to the underside of the leave at the base of the stem and leaning in to better study the fungal bulb that had sprouted high. "You've been to Felucia?" He asked thereafter, a world known for its vibrant flora which could be concocted into many different forms of medicinal and alchemical properties.

Realizing that he was likely wasting Julius's time and feeling slightly guilty for paying little attention to the older Jedi's display of skill, Balun pulled himself away and quickly sought to make amends. He did not seek out an additional weapon, however, but moved to approach the sand while pulling his Lightsaber free of its maglock plating, attached at the right side of his belt. The boy's weapon was very much a work-in-progress, presently borrowing all of the functioning components from the original Jedi Training Lightsaber that had been issued to him at a young age back on Coruscant. He was meant to have turned it in before leaving, yet his leave of the New Jedi Order hadn't exactly been typical of a failed Jedi prospect.

With his thumb pressing down against the activation toggle, the hilt flared with power and ignited the orange crackling blade, an illuminating warmth of copper lighting the ground where he stood, looking ahead to Julius Sedaire whilst bringing the hilt to bare in both hands, held at his right side and turning his feet against the sand so that Balun stood side on from his newly appointed Master. His hands gripped the hilt tightly, and he lowered the blade to point directly at Julius, remaining in his position, a readied stance for the Jedi Master to unleash the gauntlet.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Grinning, the battlemaster snapped to in mid movement and lunged, even on training power the silver-green of his lightsaber hummed hungrily, the movement both jerky and somehow fluid. Julius could feel the hesitation and unwillingness within his new student, and as Darron had taught him so long ago when passing along Vapaad, he channeled that doubt, that fear. He did not absorb it, but rather let it flow past and through him, where only the confidence of age and experience remained, the darkness of the other fed into movement and reflected back at his 'opponent'.

"Many times. I had an on and off thing with an herbalist from there, before my wife. She was a brilliant woman. Gave me that plant you were ogling."

As he spoke, the lunge was followed through with a dip and rising thrust mid-way through the lunge, a feint with a twist, as Marasun would have called it. The old Atrisian was a harsh trainer, but his skills under the Republic had grown exponentially thanks to such discipline. But he had never quite developed the stoic quiet his old Master had fought with, instead preferring his constant stream of banter and snark.

"Don't hesitate. Commit and act. Do. Don't think. Do. Don't feel. Do."

The thrust was pulled back millimeters from his pupils face and Julius seemed to fold into a waiting crouch, a broad horse like stance of legs wide and bent, with saber gripped in both hands and brought close up to his mid-chest. Waiting.

Balun Vale