First Reply Ash in the Air

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Somewhere in the Outer Rim

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

A vendor's fruit cart exploded as a disruptor bolt missed its mark by inches. Children screamed. Locals scattered, knocking over crates and dashing into alleyways as the firefight carved panic through the plaza.

Ace pivoted hard, deflecting another bolt wide. His form was a little raw, footwork slipping on scorched stone, but there was precision in his timing. Instinct. That counted for something.
His breath came fast. Not panicked, just pushed. Sweat at the collar and smoke from his shoulder. But he stayed firm, clutching his lightsaber tight.

From across the plaza, the bounty hunter stepped into view. He was leaner than he remembered, but the same carved-up Zabrak features. The same broken-horn silhouette Ace hadn't forgotten. Dro Eloman.

"Looks like you know how to use that thing now.." the Zabrak growled "But it don't matter. Tann ain't here to save you now, boy."

Ace flicked his lightsaber up into a defensive guard, uneven but firm. "Surprised Rheyla hasn't killed you yet."

No response, Dro's disruptor roared again. Ace deflected the blast, barely, it skimmed his arm and burned through fabric, left a fresh scorch mark that stung like fire. He hissed, took a breath, and refocused. His footwork faltered for half a beat, then steadied.

"Next one's through ya skull if you wanna get smart." he warned.

Acier didn't rise to the bait but he grinned cockily. Unlike the Ace that Dro had encountered almost a year prior. He kept moving. Forward. His lightsaber glowed steady in both hands, too tightly gripped, but aimed true. He ducked beneath a falling sign, leapt over a broken crate, boots skidding across gravel. The Force tugged faintly at the edge of his awareness, more clear to him now than it had ever been.

Blasterfire roared again, and the clash of saber and steel lit the midday sky. And from the smoke and fleeing crowds, someone else might just take notice…

 

[Tilon Quill]

The sound of weapons fire and the press of a scattering crowd were part of the fabric of Tilon's daily life. The sound of a lightsaber, though — that sank dread into him.

It might just be an independent like him, but more commonly the sound meant a rampage or an enforcer or crusader, and those encounters never ended well out here at the edge of Wild Space. He hadn't yet found himself in the position of obstructing someone else who called themselves Jedi, but he had the feeling that day was coming. So the dread didn't ease as Tilon came out from the local pick-a-part (slinging a warp vortex stabilizer over his back) to see a lightsaber other than red.

'Skinny Zabrak spacer versus lightsaber' carried no actual proof of who was in the right or who'd started this at risk to the crowd. Tilon cupped his hands and shouted. He had a knack for using the Force to communicate and part of that involved ensuring his words got heard and sank in. The scattered crowd didn't drown him out.

"Both of you stop fighting," he called. He got his lightsaber in hand but not active; it was his best defense against that saber and that disruptor. "People trying to barter out here!'"

Acier Moonbound

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Somewhere in the Outer Rim

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

"Tell him that!"

Ace's voice snapped across the plaza as he pivoted hard, batting another bolt wide with a crack of blue light. His breath was tight in his chest, muscles stinging from every overextension, but he didn't let it show. The lightsaber spun downward in a defensive sweep as he slid behind a collapsed vendor cart, his brown eyes locked on to the newcomer.

A Sharuka, he'd never seen one before, only heard about them in stories from Red. He had a lightsaber hilt in hand, not activated yet. He could sense that the Force clung to him, trained too. Controlled.

"Unless you here to collect the credits on my head - either get in line or get outta the way." he called out, his tone neutral.

Dro, meanwhile, shot a glance and assessed the situation himself. His disruptor now pointed at the newcomer.

"Another friend? Starting to think you're too scared to face me one on one."

"Having lightsabers, don't make us friends." Ace shot back. The Force buzzed faintly in his bones, It wasn't danger, exactly. But not calm either. Just… uncertainty. He hated that feeling.

Ace's knuckles whitened on the hilt, his breath evening out. The blue blade pulsed with the familiar ambient hum. His stance was too wide. His left foot a little too far forward. He knew it. Couldn't fix it. Not mid-fight. Dro wasn't the average bounty hunter he'd be able to dispatch with a fight, this was Dro Elamon - one of the most ruthless ones in the galaxy.

As much as it pained him to admit, maybe some help with this wouldn't hurt. Regardless, it seemed Dro had made his choice for him and opened fire on the Sharuka - clearly confident he'd be able to handle both. Maybe he could, Ace hadn't seen the other guy in action yet.

Tilon Quill
​

 

[Tilon Quill]

Ah shavvit, that was Dro Elamon. He'd lost a former shipmate to Elamon once, but never seen him outside of a holo and some panicked description. As Elamon shifted his aim, Tilon turned his lightsaber on and cast amber glimmers into the various shiny items of the deserted plaza. It intersected in odd ways with the blue glow of Acier Moonbound 's saber and the sizzling white flare of that disruptor beam.

Tilon made the block, just barely, and the disruptor shot hissed harmlessly into the ground. It disintegrated about fist-sized patch of dirt which could have been Tilon's face.

With his off hand Tilon brought out a holdout blaster. He didn't fire or speak. The little blaster and the two sabers were enough of a fair warning to make a message clear to Elamon: the next time that disruptor fired would have consequences. Tilon truly, truly hated walking tall - it tainted how he saw himself and how places like these saw him, as something other than just another spacer - but he couldn't let the kid get gunned down.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Somewhere in the Outer Rim

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

The Sharuka had blocked the incoming attack with a finesse and precision much more adept than Ace's. He didn't say anything right away, he wasn't sure who surprised him more. Dro's confidence, or the other guy's skill.

"Not bad." he muttered, to no one but himself really.

It wasn't a compliment, just fact. Ace shifted, lightsaber till held in a too-tight grip. But he finally stood up from behind the collapsed vendor cart. Blue and amber blades now glowed in tandem, casting dancing light across the dust, shattered crates, and terrified onlookers still scrambling out of the plaza. Ace felt the pressure shifting, it was shared now.

He rolled his shoulder with a wince, raising his lightsaber again. He shot Tilon a quick glance, and offered him not quite a smile but the edge of one.

"Looks like we're in this together then. Name's Ace."

And just like that, he pushed forward again, fast, uneven, reactive, testing Dro's flank as the bounty hunter adjusted for two. Jetfire lit the plaza as Dro launched upward on a plume of blinding white. The force of the blast kicked up loose gravel and debris, blowing out a stall canopy overhead. Dro cleared the space between them in a blink, angling mid-air, boots roaring as he spun.

"Copying Rheyla Tann 's style too, huh?" Ace snapped, ducking behind a fractured column as disruptor bolts cracked overhead.

Dro didn't respond. He landed a fair distance behind both him and Tilon, boots flaring to correct his angle, and opened fire again with vicious precision. Ace barely managed to slap one bolt wide. The second blew a fist-sized crater where his foot had been a second before he had backflipped in evasion.

Dro was faster than he remembered. More precise, more equipped, meaner. This wasn't just a job to the Zabrak anymore. This was personal.

As far as he was aware, they were on the backfoot. Ace hoped his new ally had something up his sleeve.

Tilon Quill
​

 

[Tilon Quill]

"Captain Quill," he said in passing. Goddammit but the kid was young, wasn't he, barely an adult. Tilon had made Jedi Knight around that age or a little younger, green as grass and in over his head. He could well imagine what mistakes or heroism a Jedi that young could have pulled off to attract this kind of vendetta.

And it did taste like vendetta. Bad enough that Tilon moved in fast and hard, the stabilizer thumping painfully in his backpack, and tried to put himself and his saber and his holdout blaster between the backflipping kid and the disruptor. He got his saber in line with the next shot and the ricochet toppled a stall's canopy.

Tilon bore down on the hunter and fired past his saber, just a few of the half-dozen shots that the little holdout could provide. He wasn't an astounding shot any more than he was an astounding duellist, but at this range you didn't have to be. He just aimed to force Dro Elamon to reposition.

The Force was relatively weak with Tilon other than his niche speciality — communication and translation — but he'd spent a long time on Manaan growing up, knew the Order of Shasa and their skillset. He drew a low, full breath and shrieked out a weird resonance like whalesong, channeling the content-laden indignation of a faraway, gargantuan, and sapient Firaxa shark: the Progenitor's Call. His aim was to interrupt, to disrupt, catch the bounty hunter flat-footed or shake him in midair if he moved again.

Break his will to kill and get him moving. Get him to pick another day.

Acier Moonbound

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Somewhere in the Outer Rim

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

Ace landed hard, boots skidding across broken stone, his lightsaber just barely catching another bolt wide. His muscles were tight, screaming now. His balance was off. Dro wasn't giving them room to breathe.

Then Quill stepped in. Fast and decisive. Ace heard the thump of whatever tech he had strapped to his back followed by the crack of a deflected bolt sizzling into metal. The Sharuka moved like someone who'd been trained in ten different forms.

"Captain Quill?" Ace repeated, half under his breath. "Fancy."

He didn't have time to say more. The air shifted again, but this time with vibration. Some strange resonance rippled out across the plaza, deep, primal and alive. Ace's shoulders stiffened at the sound. It wasn't the Force as he knew it. It didn't feel like Light or Dark. It felt like pressure in the lungs. Like the deep ocean had just turned its eye on them.

Even Dro faltered. The Zabrak's boots sputtered mid-hover. His shot went wide. One gauntlet rose to his helmet's side, as if trying to block out the sound physically.

He glanced at Quill mid-strike. "What the hell was that?"

Quill was focused, forcing Dro to move, blaster barking low and deliberate. It didn't deter him. Dro's next shot came sharp and fast, aimed low. Not at Ace or Tilon directly, but at the ground beneath a nearby power junction. Sparks exploded outward. The canopy of a vendor's stall collapsed in a spray of shrapnel and cloth, throwing smoke and distraction into the space between them. Dro used the cover.

"You freaks hoarding tricks now?" Dro snapped.

He launched sideways on a clean vector, slamming into the side of a water tank and perching low against the rim, watching like a predator on a ledge. Before he began to open fire on the pair again. Dro was blinded by his tunnel vision.

"This isn't just a job for him." he growled, deflecting a blaster bolt that strayed too close "He hates me."

Dro stood crouched at the edge of the tank rim, trenchcoat fluttering in the updraft, his scarred face twisted in a half-snarl. Just raw, unfiltered rage.

"You Jedi are all the same! Shine bright, die loud!"

He slammed his palm flat against his left vambrace, a hidden trigger. A split-second hiss. Then fire. A roaring gout of flame erupted from his wrist, sweeping wide in a brutal arc. The blast hit the plaza like a tidal wave of heat - igniting vendor awnings, charring stone, and forcing everything into motion. Civilians scattered further. Light bent in the haze.

Ace didn't hesitate. He dove again, the fire licking at his boots as he skidded behind the crumbling fountain

Tilon Quill
​

 

[Tilon Quill]

Explanations had to wait; Tilon was just glad he could pull off the occasional surprise. What the hell was that had often served him well in lieu of actual power.

Thank feth the Zabrak was a talker. Tilon used the spare heartbeats to take stock of the situation — the hunter at the water tank, the fleeing locals, Acier Moonbound in a relatively safe position for the moment.

Flamethrower. Tilon glanced back to be sure Acier was getting to cover, and the wrist flamer licked out faster and farther than anticipated.

Fire and pain surged up his saber hand. He dropped the weapon and an involuntary sound contorted his whole throat and neck. He staggered, smelling sweet burnt meat.

He did not, however, drop the holdout blaster.

He put its second-last shot into the base of the water tank where pressure would be the highest. A narrow fan of room-temperature water blasted out and soaked Tilon. It scoured the flammable substance off his burnt hand and sent his scorched lightsaber skittering, waterlogged.

Which left Tilon in serious pain, unarmed, crouched in weapons range of a serious bounty hunter with a personal grudge.

He had exactly one half-decent option.

"I surrender," he said, voice thick with pain that he was slow to manage. "Take me hostage, name your price, let the kid go."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Somewhere in the Outer Rim

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

Ace peeked behind the crumbling fountain, checking to see if Quill made it to cover. But he was just stood there, he didn't take cover or anything. Ace watched as fire enveloped the Sharuka's weapon arm, eyes widening in shock horror.​

​

But he didn't go down. Quill didn't even hesitate. One shot; clean, instinctual, and straight into the base of the tank. The burst of water was ugly and fast, but it worked. Dro flinched, coat soaked, pressure line spraying wild. Quill had managed to at least dose the flames still on his arm.​

​

"I surrender,"

​

It took him a moment to register. Was this an opening? Trading himself for Ace? That damn Jedi selflessness. Ace's jaw tightened, he didn't like it but he understood.​

​

Ace moved quickly. Low, fast, behind the cover of the water blast and scorched debris. He didn't call out, didn't shout Dro's name. Just closed the distance, one hand still on his saber, the other reaching toward his belt. He kicked into a wide strafe around Dro's left side, angling for the back of the water tank, not a head-on strike. Not a showy move. Just smart positioning.​

​

His blue blade came up in a rising arc, angled to catch Dro's side just as the bounty hunter twisted with uncanny speed, one gauntlet snapping up to catch the lightsaber at the vambrace. Sparks hissed. Metal scorched. Dro grunted, then lunged forward, shoulder-checking Ace hard across the chest. Ace hit the ground on his back with a gasp, muscles flaring, lightsaber still lit as he rolled and came up again, feet unsteady but eyes locked in.​

​

Dro didn't follow. He stood where he'd landed, trenchcoat soaked, armor steaming. One arm charred. The flamethrower hissing low. His eyes found Ace through the heat haze. A scarred, worn face twisted in something between rage… and recognition. Like he knew he wouldn't win this one, not today.​

​

"You got lucky today, kid." he growled in his raspy voice "But next time?"​

​

He raised one hand, a small remote detonator already primed. He clicked it and a nearby cargo skiff exploded in flame, throwing debris into the plaza and shrouding Dro's position in thick smoke. When it cleared, he was gone.​

​

Ace exhaled, chest heaving, sweat streaking grime down his face. The lightsaber lowered. He looked toward the wreckage. Then toward Tilon, burned and crouched and still somehow upright.​

​

"...Hate that guy." he muttered.​

​

Extinguishing his lightsaber, Ace approached the Sharuka. His boots crunched over a broken tile and splashed over pooled water. He didn't say anything at first. He just crouched beside him, hands on his knees, breathing still sharp.​

​

"You good?" he asked, nodding toward the ruined hand. "'Cause that was… borderline insane. I mean... 'I surrender'? Seriously?"​

​

He sat back on his heels, gave a dry shake of the head.​

​

"Ballsiest bluff I've seen in a long time…It was a bluff, right?"​

​

Tilon Quill ​

​

 

[Tilon Quill]

When your body took this kind of damage, it went into shock to one extent or another. The art of getting Jedi pain control right involved keeping a clear head without impeding the body's natural processes. Fortunately, he'd always done alright at mental Control abilities like pain management and short-term memory enhancement; they took focus and practice but not much in the way of power.

He got his pain down to a manageable level and took his feet again. Careful not to use or bump his blistered hand, he reclaimed the scorched and waterlogged lightsaber.

"Faking a surrender or a truce'd be wrong," he said by way of explanation. "Wouldn't serve me too well next time, or anyone I was trying to help, if I got a reputation for that. There's a whole class of war crimes around it." He hooked the saber to his belt but kept the holdout blaster free, for all the good its last two shots would be, just in case. "We should get out of easy view. I've got a ship and a little bacta."

Acier Moonbound

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Somewhere in the Outer Rim

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

When Quill stood up, Acier followed suit. The words that came out of Quill's mouth surprised the young man completely. So much so that his lips slightly parted and his brows furrowed. It wasn't a bluff, he really was going to surrender. He muttered something about war crimes which earned him a covert roll of the eyes from Ace.

Quill was one of those honorable types, course he was, he was a Jedi. As far as he was concerned? Damn honor, and damn war crimes. It was survival and cunning over everything. As long as you weren't harming others to achieve that, he wasn't too concerned with what needed to be done to achieve that.

Following suit, Acier also proceeded to clip his lightsaber on to to his belt. The teal-skinned Jedi revealed he had a ship and some bacta. Feeling like he at least owed Quill something for stepping in and helping him out with Dro, Ace nodded.

"Alright, lead the way. I'll make sure you don't run into trouble on the way." it was lighthearted in nature, but as far as he was concerned - escorting him to his ship was the least he could do.

When Tilon would begin making his way back to wherever his ship was, Acier quickly walked in line with him. A few moments of silence would pass between the pair, he didn't mind silence. Actually, it was more comforting than speaking. But, he was somehwat curious about his new Jedi ally.

"So, that weird scream... thing. Earlier. What was that?" he asked, subconsciously cleaning out his ear with his pinkie.

Tilon Quill
​

 

[Tilon Quill]

"So, that weird scream... thing. Earlier. What was that?" he

The North Ridge was parked within an easy walk of the bazaar; you kept your valuables close on Attahox. Tilon hustled, anxious to rendezvous with bacta and pain meds.

He gave Acier a wry sidelong look. "Do I want to be telling that to someone who rolls his eyes when I talk war crimes?" He was half kidding and made that clear. "I spent a few years here and there on Manaan. The Selkath have an ancient, homegrown tradition called the Order of Shasa. It's tied to a huge undersea entity — a god of the ocean, in its way — called the Progenitor. What you heard was me channeling its voice. I'm pretty weak in the Force for a Jedi Knight, but that Shasan technique punches above its weight — a good way to throw off someone's focus.

"Where'd you learn the Force? You did well back there."