Let's Start A Little Trouble (Open!)

[MacTavish]

It was approaching dark on the planet made of durasteel skyscrapers and bad intentions. The golden hues of the sun setting were shattered and scattered against the smog and urban sprawl of Nar Shaddaa. The speeder-trails in the sky soaked up the colors, appearing as watercolor strokes in the heavens above the scummy lower levels of the planet. This would be a mute sunset compared to those on Tatooine, Dantooine, or even Korriban. MacTavish hadn’t seen the sunset on another planet for years however, so to him, the hushed auric tones were just as warm and rich as any you would find on the twin sun planet.

Standing over six feet tall and weighing over three hundred and fifty pounds, MacTavish was a mountain of a being. This caused many people to pick up on his presence rather easily. Not to mention he bore the various scars across his body from years of fighting people for a living. There were dual long barreled blasters strapped on either side of his back, they stood longer than a Kowakian monkey-lizard and were as thick as their gizzard. The traveling miscreant used them as a last resort usually. He preferred more intimate, close quarters combat. His equally as large fists were testaments of this, gnarled and calloused beyond recognition from years of bashing in faces.

It took him less than two steps into the door of The Gungan’s Tongue before the bartender called out his name. They had been friends once upon a time, however, over the last few months MacTavish hadn’t paid his tab like he was supposed to which left the bar unhappy.

“Ay, MacTavish!” He fluttered his arms to draw in the behemoth’s attention against the large uproar from the packed bar. “I got your whiskey right here!” He shouted, grabbing his crotch area with one hand while making primitive motions with the other. It was true, MacTavish hadn’t paid his tab in a while, but what else was true was you were to never make a man angry would could break you open in a single move.

The hulking mercenary took careful, loud steps toward the bartender. Deep brown eyes seemed to glass over, a small quiver could be seen in the corner of his lower lip, and those rock-like hands of his clenched into tight fists. It took a moment before the bartender realized what he had done. MacTavish took another couple steps toward him, he was now at the bar. The stools lining it came up to his kneecaps and the bar barely covered his raggedy pants. The bartender now had a look of bewilderment in his eye. “How about you just put this one on someone else’s tab then, Vinz?” A clenched fist slammed against the bar.

“Right, Mac, this one’s on the house.” He lowered his head slightly and started fumbling around for a glass and a bottle.

The bar seemed to silence itself a little bit after the interaction, conversations seemed to come to an end, and everyone smelled of unrest. There were several hands placed on blasters, no one yet dared to take the first shot. MacTavish looked around him, this was the kind of fear Nar Shaddaa hadn’t experienced in too long. Factions would rise and fall around the city planet. He had lived through several criminal empire himself, and even a few Force Using regimes springing to power. However recently there had been a vacuum. This was the time to take risks and seize his own claim on the planet.

“Well…” His voice was raspy like he smoked a pack of death sticks a day and chased them with fire. “Cheers, mates.” He raised his glass to the sky and watched as most of the bar followed suit. From there he slammed back the glass and drank it in one go before putting it back on the bar.

The golem of muscle stood up afterward, his eyes never leaving the bartender. Before you knew it, the back of Vinz’s head was in MacTavish’s palm, and his nose was meeting the bar’s rough durasteel surface. He repeatedly smashed his head into the bar for another few seconds before stopping and drying his bloody hand on the bar-rag. “That should settle my tab.” A bloody faced Vinz slumped to the floor. Likely dead.

He wasn’t sure if it was about to turn to all out chaos in the cantina, or if they would get the message. He didn’t quite care either way.

 

[Matreya]

Valashu sat in a bar, eyes surveying the surroundings, as he awaited the arrival of his target. According to Terrence, it was a known thug in these parts, one that could possess information on Maal and his location. He had a basic description, nothing to in depth, and intellect to go on, nothing more. No images of the guy, nor even a recording of his voice.

He simply knew the man was going to be about mid height, thin and gangly.

As he was mulling over his next choices, Valashu noticed the commotion by the bar. Rising quickly, he pondered the reasons behind his choice, but didn't have time to finish them before he stood at the side of the massive man. He didn't know this guy, and he doubted the guy knew him, but as it was, since arriving in this Universe, he had become a better man. One that couldn't stand by as a show of strength was flaunted for nothing more than ones own urge to do so.

"What's the problem?" Was all he asked. There were dozens of things he could of asked, or stated, yet this seemed the best. Maybe he was wrong, that the bartender actually deserved it. So he would clarify.

[member="MacTavish"]

 

[Ash Verd]

Ash grimaced, hidden behind her mandalorian-esque helmet by which lied pressed against a wall with arms folded. Peering through her visor at the bar's interior, she secretly cursed herself for returning to such a crime-ridden location. However, credit bears gravity and she had certainly fell victim to its pull. "Loooovelly," she whispered, watching [member="Valashu Elahad"] take the initial stand. Her eyes remained half-litted, wondering if this meant competition or potential cooperation to ensure her vaguely described, stone-cladded target met his end and a hefty sum was directly deposited into her account. Ignoring the occasional lustful glare, atop spiteful body. Though her new armor had proven fruitful in bolstering her offensive capabilities, it took to accentuating her waist and other assets in a most feminine manner. A double-edged sword in certain situations, but her make focus now was observing the hulking mass of stone's reaction to his words. They would govern how she approached her target, and whether she did it alone, or not. "The hell are they feeding these people now a days?"

[member="MacTavish"]

 

[Lok Maxus]

[member="Ash Verd"] [member="Valashu Elahad"] [member="MacTavish"]

"Hey, big boy!"

Fate was a funny thing. Many people thought they knew it, some swore by it, but none were ever certain about it.

And yet, it was fate that Lok was certain had sent her to this particular bar on this grimy cesspit of civilization, watching a hulking giant beat the living snot out of the bartender with no apparent effort. Which also made him a perfect target for the Zabrak's needs; having been turned down by almost every sentient she'd approached so far did not dampen her spirits. Instead, it made her that much more determined to find someone to be her mentor in the arts of kicking Sith buttinski.

...Even if she had to make them teach her.

Such as it was, "fate" had compelled Lok to shoulder her way through the crowd of individuals who, unlike her, were legally able to drink. Elbowing a few reluctant patrons, including the one guy standing next to her target, Lok tapped the golemesque figure on the arm. "I want to talk to you."

 

[MacTavish]

The atmosphere of the bar seemed to shift around MacTavish. People were noticing him, looking at him for his next move. Most weren’t reaching for their blasters just yet, that would be a bad business move, in fact most of them were silently wondering how to recruit him. That was where the beauty of it was, MacTavish didn’t care for their sociopolitical beliefs or their offers, he didn’t have a justifiable reason to murder that man, yet here he was, standing before these people as a murderer. The law was weird like that, most crimes were excusable if never reported.

The first person to approach him he addressed quickly. He appeared to be a stocky man, hearty and well grounded. Not someone MacTavish could just fling over the nearest barstool. Not that he wouldn’t try despite that fact. The stranger spoke as though he wasn’t intimated by the hulk, a better start to a conversation than most had. “Problem?” His deep voice echoed against the now silent bar walls. He shifted his head back and forth, looking around the room from person to person.

“Seems I don’t have any problems here, man.” The giant grabbed at his belt loops and gave the curious man a once over before attempting to move past him. That, of course, was when the second curious individual approached. This one was a stark contrast to the previous. Her species was as apparent as her intentions, she wished to gain favor with someone who could stand out in a crowd, and this was how MacTavish’s plans were set in motion.

Chaotic evil wasn’t chaotic stupid after all.



OOC: Sorry it took so long, my birthday was this weekend and I went on a little vacation, thanks for replying you guys!

[member="Lok Maxus"] [member="Ash Verd"] [member="Valashu Elahad"]

 

[Matreya]

Ignoring the smaller being that approached, and shoved past him, Valashu gestured to the door, "I think you should leave then. We don't need a brawl to take place here." The Kensûrai Archer said, his voice never wavered, nor did his gaze. If the man was used to fear, he would not find it within the Anzati mutt. He had faced deadly odds more times than he had simple fights such as this.

As it was, in these types, it was for the other that he feared. He was not the best with non-lethal attacks.

For example, hidden beneath White Current illusions of a normally dressed man, was his Archer Gear over a Baka Bodyglove, with his Mask and gear at the ready as well. In an instant the man could easily find he faced a threat that held near indestructible armor, with beneath it a means of absorbing the harshest of kinetic damage.

Valashu Elahad, Matreya the Kensûrai Archer, Noriska Lovordet, was not a simple man to face.

(Don't be shaken by this man, lol its all flashy stuff, I take hits fairly etcetera.)

[member="MacTavish"] [member="Lok Maxus"] @[member="Ash Verd"]

 

[Ash Verd]

Clicked her armored foot against the ground, half-admittedly enjoying the events transpiring thus far. One wished to remove her target, the other seemed to wish more from him..or it. From the back edges of the bar, she could be seen shaking her head. It'd prove worthless trying to combat the both of them, especially given her limited options of weapons. Patience diminished, she simply emerged from the shadows of the bar, stepping closer toward the three, practically paving way through the lot of people gathered around to spectate. "kark out the way, if you will please." Although her voice was coated over in a mechanic tone, it held a femenine base, enchanted by a mild english accent. She stood beside Valashu, holding arms behind her back. "Well, well, Mr...." She paused, recalling she didn't have his name. She'd cough, "You." -- "What will you do? This gentleman here wants you to leave, she is allured by your previous display, I presume, and I want you dead. We all want things from you. Now, how you choose to comply with my wants will decide whether you leave this planet with a mere bullet through the skull, or in gathered stone pieces sweeped together and cremated for this...Zabrak here." Ash projected her disposition, thoughts and honesty to the brink of it becoming disastrous. However, she relished in it, even if it caused her trouble.

Her brow perked behind the armor, "The decision is yours." She stated after a brief pause.

[member="Valashu Elahad"], [member="Lok Maxus"]

 

[Jada Raxis]

[member="Valashu Elahad"] [member="MacTavish"] [member="Ash Verd"]

Nar Shaada was well outside the auspices of the Silver Jedi and a far fling from any real authority. What constituted local law here was paid off by the disgusting smugglers and slavers that ran the place. Still as a Jedi it was her duty to stop conflict, rather than ignite or participate in it. Part of her mandate was to defend the weak, no matter how pathetic she deemed them. What MacTavish had done was an unwarranted act of murder.

And that made it her problem.

"So much for rest and relaxation." The young Echani woman muttered as she rose from her corner seat.

From beneath her black cloak she slipped her hands out and flipped back the cowl, revealing a face covered in war paint, silver hair and flashing silvery white eyes.

Next came the blade. A double ended Echani war sword, with a black haft that gleamed in the light.

"I'm only going to say this once, the lot of you need to stand down. If there's a fight you want, take it to the street."

She smirked, knowing in usual fashion they would rebuff her. It was that way with all Jedi. Criminals thrived on conflict, but secretly so did she.

"You on the other hand," She pointed to the Hulk.

"You might just deserve some hard justice. If they don't kill you in the street..."

Wait what? That was un Jedi like.

"Scratch that. Put out your hands, you're going to the local Magistrate."

She didn't place any faith in that either. Thus her hand tightened around the haft and she began to center herself in the force, drawing power and focusing it. It coalesced like an invisble wheel around her, taking dedication to keep it from toppling...

 

[Brent Warnel]

Brent was having a drink in what could only be one of the thousands of bars that stretched across Nar Shaddaa's surface. He honestly didn't know why he had chosen this bar out of all the places he could have gone too. There were at least 4 others on this street alone, and a half dozen within a mile radius. Something in him had told him this place was the one, and so far he had not seen what that was. Probably was just the alcohol, he had already had a few before he had stepped in here and decided to have more.

That was ok though, there was a human on the other side of the bar playing Sabaak at a table with a Rodian, and Brent was waiting to see who lost so he could slip in and try his hand at it. He was not the best player at Sabaak, but it did pass the time, and a lot of the time he found out information he hadn't known before that could be useful.

The bartender brought over another drink and Brent cradled it with both hands and nodded his thanks. Vinz was a decent guy, just doing his best at a crappy job on a crappy planet. And so when Vinz met his untimely demise directly after dropping off a drink to him, Brent felt a twitch in his left eye at the needless violence.

The man who did it was now in Brent's sight, and Brent slowly took his helmet off the bar and slipped it on and stood up. Vinz' murderer was now being talked to by several people, and Brent held off waiting to see what had happened. Brent had killed and been almost killed, and had done his fair share of violence around the galaxy, but he hated those he prayed on the less fortunate. That got his blood pumping, and being a Mandalorian, getting his blood pumping usually wasn't a good idea for most.

He was in full armor, cause who wasn't on Nar Shaddaa? He didn't have most of his weapons, but his crushgaunts and close in melee weapons would be enough if it came down to a fight. Brent was a big man, but he was still as fast and agile as those half his size, and coupled with his armor and weapons, he wasn't someone to be taken lightly. He watched the encounter between Vinz' killer and the others talking to him and waited to see the outcome.

[member="Jada Raxis"] [member="Ash Verd"] [member="Valashu Elahad"] [member="MacTavish"]

 

[MacTavish]

Ripples started waves, waves turned to tempests, and tempest to maelstroms that leveled cities flat. Ripples were easy enough to make in the common lifeforce shared by the galaxy. You could skip rocks against the surface of the water just as you could achieve the same effect in the Force by bashing a bartender’s skull into the bar. Either way, the ripples were cast and he just waited for the inevitable tidal waves. MacTavish was fully prepared to take these waves on. Strapped to his back was a large repeating baster, quick on the shot and combined with the merc’s upper body strength he could control the recoil better than most which boosted his accuracy. Strapped to his ankles were vibroblades whose edges he had personally sharpened the day before. Other than that he had his thick skin and gnarled fists which acted like leather armor to most attacks.

Mac’s gaze scanned the room around him, those who approached first weren’t the only ones in the room watching, there were those who stood in the back like rats on Tatooine waiting for the Bantha to drop and the bigger animals to get their fill. They were likely there to pick off whoever survived the altercation, collecting even more credits for themselves. They were the typical style of people you would find on an exhaust port of a planet like Nar Shaddaa. The company MacTavish was keeping now reminded him of a group of vigilantes, all here for the greater good (or their own, both ended in self gratification). They also had something else in common, they wanted to know who the brawny mercenary was, and they were interested in seeing out the rest of his life how they saw fit. There was one problem however, MacTavish loathed the idea of giving up his freedom.

“Well it seems you all got my message.” He turned his attention to each of his accusers, looking them directly in the eye or through their helmets, making sure they saw him. “This is Nar Shaddaa, my friends. Your codes,” His attention rested on the Echani a moment longer, “Your need for authority and order,” This time he split his attention between the other mercenary and the one boasting his strength, “Or even your ability to recognize a marked bounty when you see one!” He threw his attention to those scavengers mentioned earlier. “None of that matters on Nar Shaddaa.” MacTavish grabbed his last death stick from behind his ear and casually lit it with a snap of his fingers. If they saw him grab the match sitting behind it or not was up to if they passed their awareness checks or not, but appearing to summon fire was a trick useful in large scale battles and trying to even the odds.

“None of it used to matter anyway.”

He took in a deep breath and exhaled a plume of smoke above the group into the air.

“The only thing that used to matter was power.”

The others could likely hear the longing for old in his voice, he would make his idea of Nar Shaddaa everone's idea of Nar Shaddaa in time.

He needed to waste as much time as possible while trying to concoct a plan. “So if you’re to take me into the magistrate, Jedi, how do you plan on getting through this wall of people trying to kill me? Or would you join them, since I deserve it and all?” He wasn’t going to make a move until poked. “Like I said, codes don’t matter out here.” If he was correct, some of these people seemed to be competent criminals and those lead to credits and power, something far more important than bashing a couple more heads into a bar. He was already over his quota for the day anyway.

[member="Brent Warnel"] [member="Jada Raxis"] [member="Ash Verd"] [member="Valashu Elahad"] [member="Lok Maxus"]

 

[Matreya]

Valashu stared at the man cold set now. He had hoped to continue this without altercation, before any of the other gun runners did as well. It was inevitable as of this moment, that one would occur. That meant his goal was officially to get the man outside. Straightening to his full six foot two, with arms drawn back, he was not all that different from the man before him. Where as the other was hulking, likely all low rep high weight, he was the opposite - he had already toned his muscles to be in the 400 plus range for most workouts.

This was not a means to boast, rather a betterment for situations such as this.

For when he now drew back an arm, like lightning seeking to center on his opponents cheek opposite the door, it was a painful one. Definitely not as bad as the one that could be dealt by the larger man, but enough that many had gone unconscious from a single strike. Believing, based on appearances, that the man was tougher though, Valashu also lashed out a downward snap kick from his position at the mans side, seeking to push the cap off his opponents knee and thusly drop him to the ground.

Whether any of these worked, his next tactic would hopefully. With the full brunt of his strength, in close quarters, and being the Force User he is, he attempted to tackle the man as hard and far toward the door as he was able. It was the full, sprawling with arms wide, head down to allow for ramming pain, kind of tackle. Clearly this man had been in plenty of brawls.

[member="MacTavish"]

 

[Jada Raxis]

[member="MacTavish"] [member="Valashu Elahad"]

And it seemed as if the situation got even more tense. Jada cocked her head to the side, lighting the group up with her fiery hazel eyes. Much of what MacTavish was saying was true. Their was no need for unwarranted death. These people were all too keen on collecting his bounty or killing him. But justice came in more forms than simple lynch mobs, or the law itself.

It was a dilemma for her now. Allow the man to be killed and swarmed? Attempting to kill him was a travesty against the Jedi code. Something she took to heart as a fanatic zealot of the light. No there was other ways about this, and for a brief second her mind flashed down every avenue and ally, calculating her options.

"Prison wouldn't warrant you well, but somehow I doubt you'd get any more than a fine."

Her eyes skipped to the crowd and locked back with Mac's.

"Neither would killing you. There was already one death today, we needn't have more. Giving you a good whooping on the other hand might be beneficial, but what’s the fun in that if there's no honor?"

It was her Echani heritage riding to the fore now. Only cowards attacked en masse, and only cowards took cheap shots. The honourable warrior engaged in mutual combat.

Then she felt her tell and the decision was made. A ripple in the force passed over her carefully spinning wheel, threatening to topple her focus and scatter the energy she had collected. she stepped right, and pivoted just as the aggressor charged Mac, swinging the double ended blade twice. Two strikes with the flat side, rather than the edge, one high right, and one high left. Both were aided by blistering speed as she channeled the force into her muscles, becoming lighter, faster and stronger....

 

[MacTavish]

The first few moments after the first fists were thrown and the Jedi’s lightsaber extended, MacTavish figured the rest would follow suit. MacTavish’s plan had worked, he had successfully taken the focus off of himself for the moment being. This distraction would be what he needed to get out of the limelight. The hulking mass of a man jumped behind the bar, sliding across it and taking a glass down on the way with him.

From there he judged his options, he could try to attack back or he could wait to see what happened. If nothing else there were plenty of liquor bottles he could throw, bring the bar down with him.

[member="Jada Raxis"] [member="Valashu Elahad"]

 

[Brent Warnel]

[member="MacTavish"] [member="Jada Raxis"] [member="Valashu Elahad"]

Brent watched the exchange between the three individuals. The other man that was confronting the big brute was more than ready for a fight, Brent could tell by his stance, and it looked like he could handle himself quite well. The female on the other hand was getting...righteous. She was talking about bringing him in to what qualified as local law enforcement. Even Brent knew that wouldn't go well, law on Nar Shaddaa was tricky, and not worth getting involved with. But if she wanted to try and take this guy in to law enforcement, Brent would watch and wait.

Then the unexpected happened, the smaller man charged forward, fast. He went in ready to take on the big brute in an all out brawl. Brent had expected that, what he didn't expect was for this self righteous female who was just about ready to take the other man in turned and attacked the one who probably would have helped her. There was only a couple reasons that somene would just turn in a heartbeat like she did, and the foremost in Brent's mind was that she was a force-user. She had the look about her, and that would explain the justice talk, and it would semi-explain why she turned on the big brutes attacker. She thought she could take the law into her own hand, and do what she thought was right based on her own experience. The thing was, this was Nar Shaddaa, and Jedi didn't have the experience in the criminal underworld to make judgement like this.

To Brent, she was just someone who had no honor or loyalty, and worst of all, if he was right, she was a force-user, and that made her the worst scum he could think of.

"Only thing worse then senseless violence is a Di'kut who thinks she is upholding the law," Brent muttered to himself. The female had used her sword, in what probably would have been just a fist fight. Which meant she had no honor, no knowledge of how things worked. So Brent did what he needed too.

He looked as the big brute dodged the smaller mans attacks and dived behind the bar. The smaller man was now engaged in a fight with a force-user with a sword out, and Brent wasn't ok with that. But neither was he ok with the the big man at his back, but the man had dived behind the bar because he didn't want to get in a brawl with experienced fighters in a small space. Brent would deal with him when the time came, if that time came.

Meanwhile Brent flexed his fists and crushgaunts and waded into the fight coming at [member="Jada Raxis"] from her side, rushing forward to try and bull her back and on the defensive. When he was close he would also launch a quick straight kick at her knee to try and buckle it.

 

[Matreya]

Many being could be all three, lighter, faster ,and stronger through aid of the Force. But the number to do so correctly without need of practise? Was few and far between. As he saw it, the flux of energy so awkwardly channeled, was a sign that she was an acolyte, and those? There were very few that were able to be above par when using powerful examples of Force expenditures.

As it was though, this didn't mean he simply shrugged off the blows, nor did his writer. Simply acknowledging that to accomplish three different force powers at once, at an even slightly effective level needed better skill, that usually came with more experience.

Struck on both the front, and backside, of shoulder blades by incredible speeds... he glanced down as the blades simply bounced off. It was now obvious to all around, that he wasn't simply wearing a normal suit of clothing. But he maintained that illusion. All the while an ally, it seemed anyway, came from the back to assist in stopping the woman's self righteous zealousy.

"This is ridiculous man." Valashu said, turning to look at the bar, where the man cowered behind, "You harm a man you feel you can take, but the moment you meet real combat, you hide? Just get up and leave. That's all I asked, and do ask." A the while he wondered how long the girl could hold out with triple abilities being used constantly.

[member="MacTavish"] [member="Jada Raxis"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

@MacTavish @Valashu Elahad [member="Ash Verd"] [member="Lok Maxus"] [member="Brent Warnel"]

Bunch of things started happening. A big guy smashed someone's face into the bar a few times. Some Zabrak chick, maybe a hooker, tapped him on the arm and started talking with him while other folks got loud. Some other guy, just an average-looking snot, asked the big man to leave. A Mando girl in something like boobplate hopped into the conversation aggressively. Yet another man in armor was watching the whole thing; a buddy of the dead guy, looked like. Then in came an Echani with a double-ended sword, trying to arrest the big guy. She and he speechified a bit. Big guy called her a Jedi.

Brawl time. Average-looking guy took a few swings at big guy, who went over the bar to evade. Armored dude took a swing at the Echani Jedi who had the sword. Average-looking guy started talking some more, maybe mocking.

Was this 2vs2 or a free-for-all? If the former, that'd mean the Jedi was with the average-looking guy and the armored dude was with the big guy --but no, armored dude had just lost his buddy to the big guy-

Ah, kark it.

Tom unfolded himself from a corner booth and stood up. He didn't have much on him -- a blaster, and this funky set of brass knuckles he'd picked up. He slipped his right hand into the latter and left the former buckled into its holster.

His goal was the door. Echani-Jedi-versus-armored-guy was right in the way. Tom headed for the door, brass knuckles first.

 

[MacTavish]

The waves MacTavish had cast out had started to return, he could feel the utter chaos breaking their surface. His plan had worked, and that plan was to have no plan, to go into an establishment and cause a little ruckus. This however, had slightly backfired also, seeing as he chose the time to enter a fracking bar when every person with a moral compass on Nar Shaddaa had decided to get a drink. The giant of a man tried to listen to the words and attacks exchanged behind him. The Jedi, or whatever she was had used her blade against the first man to approach her and yet it appeared none of her attacks had hit.

The other man, the cocky one, however, had presumed that, because MacTavish was behind the bar he was hiding. That was not the case however, even strong, hulking characters had to seek shelter for a moment. Even if it’s just to gather the supplies needed to attack back, dying for dying’s sake was in no one’s playbook. The brute thought over his options, what did he have on his person that he could use against these people? He had a repeating blaster, but that would only draw attention to him and even if he hit everyone in the room with a blaster bolt he would likely only kill a select few. There was the other option, his fists, which were equally as powerful as the blaster, but only in one on one combat. There had to be another way.

Then all the mercenary could think about was another death stick. The commotion had caused him to drop his on the floor next to him when he was jumping the bar, the embers still lit but the smoke slowly going out. If only he had brought more matches with him than the one. Well if nothing else he could use a drink, and with that giant hands grabbed for the bottle of whiskey that the bartender had dropped when MacTavish bashed him to death. With the first swig he could hear the battle outside, he had to act soon. The second swig granted a stroke of genius.

What was the one thing that most living things in the galaxy feared? Not blasters, not fists, not the Force, but fire. Fire was something that could kill almost anyone, and everyone respected it. Mountain like muscles ripped the already dingy shirt he was wearing with ease. He had six long stretches of fabric in just a few moments. Now would be the fun part. Time for him seemed to slow down, while the Echani was attempting to land her last attack and the others in the room were getting their reactions in, MacTavish was feverishly applying the last death stick embers to the tips of his oil ridden clothing. Hopefully he would have a spark and a flame here soon.

Finally, there was a small cloud of black smoke and a tiny ember turned to a small flame. Quickly the hulk stuffed the fabric inside the liquor bottle and stood back up, facing the enemies. “I never hide, buddy, but soon enough you will.” MaTavish then threw the moltov cocktail into the air away from the group of people in case anyone tried to get any bright ideas. The Jedi would likely not be able to use the Force to stop it and it would take a hell of a quick shot to avoid the mass of people in front of them and knock it out of the sky. Even then, the fuse was short and it would likely still explode mid-air due to the dangerously high levels of alcohol in most whiskeys and liquors served on a rough planet like Nar Shaddaa.

“I think we all will be leaving this bar soon, if any of us care about our lives.” The brute then pulled out his repeating blaster and took station behind the durasteel bar again. He would make his next move soon.

[member="Tomsen Page"] [member="Valashu Elahad"] [member="Ash Verd"] [member="Lok Maxus"] [member="Brent Warnel"] [member="Jada Raxis"]

 

[Jada Raxis]

[member="Brent Warnel"] [member="MacTavish"] [member="Valashu Elahad"]

Between the flaming bottle and the man charging her she was left without a choice but to back up. Her eyes flickered to the bottle, tracking its arc. For a moment she considered redirecting it at the attacker, or drawing it straight down on them all. One bad turn deserved another right? They were all spacer scum anyways.

No....Stop.

The voice in her head, that irksome moral compass chided her.

Remember the code....

"Argghh!"

She decided to let the bottle fly and land where it may, flaming rag corkscrewing towards the ground, ready to napalm the whole place. The attacker however was a different story. As he bulled in and kicked she skipped back two steps and whirled, pivoting on the point of one foot for a snap shot roundhouse kick aimed at the tip of chin....

Meanwhile the wheel spun and spun, slowly starting to lose it's balance. The force was still flowing through her, but it was muddier now. Tainted with the violence of the room. Passion like a bittersweet honey tempted her to dip her toes and unleash the demons within.

There is no Passion, only Serenity.....

Serenity, that was it.

I am the eye in the center of the storm....

The storm. Yes with a hulking destructive elephant and a mad crowd this place was becoming a slaughterhouse of a storm. She centred herself, drawing upon the memories of her past for comfort. Sitting around the tribal fire, sipping wine after a long days hunt. Hand to hand combat at the festival of the gods with her kin. The cold feel of the frost underfoot in the mountains.

"Yah!"

One hand extended, channelling what focus remained into a dome atop all of them, her attackers included. Force energy swirled and compressed, invisible yet concrete. It was her duty to protect lives first and foremost... even if they were spacer scum....

 

[Brent Warnel]

[member="Tomsen Page"] [member="Jada Raxis"] [member="MacTavish"] [member="Valashu Elahad"]

The Jedi fell back and snapped a kick off at his chin which he easily avoided by just leaning back and keeping his center of gravity around his hips. He snapped back forward and was ready to re-engage when the scene went into further chaos. The other man the Jedi had attacked called out to the big man behind the bar. The one hiding behind the bar said a few perfunctory remarks then threw a molotov cocktail into the air which arced lazily right to where Brent and the two others were. He traced the bottle and noticed another man heading his way, but whether he was trying to get in on the fight or leave Brent had no idea.

He saw the Jedi in front of him trace the bottle as well, what her plans were Brent didn't know. When that bottle burst though the inside of this place would get a whole hell of a lot more insane. He wasn't going to get caught in the middle of a fire in a bar. The building itself was durasteel like everything else on this planet, and it would probably be fine, but Brent doubted the fire suppression systems worked in this building. He did not want to get caught out in a raging inferno that would cook him alive. Neither did anyone else he thought.

So he did the only smart thing one could do. While the Jedi was distracted in some sort of...trance? He kept his eyes on the other members of the bar and started to slide towards the door. As he did thought he hit a barrier of some sorts with his back, he didn't remember being by a wall or anything so he risked a quick glance over his shoulder. There was nothing there...but something was stopping him from leaving.

Great. The Jedi had thrown some sort of barrier to trap them in, whether it was to burn them alive or save them he had no idea, but he wasn't going to wait.

"Take the force barrier down now, or else," Brent said as his hidden blades slipped out of his gauntlets and he advanced towards [member="Jada Raxis"] with the intent to make her do what he wanted.

 

[Matreya]

Valashu followed the movement of the brute as he popped up, when he hurled the bottle, time slowed for the Kensûrai Archer. He wasn't as excelled as some in many uses of the Force, hell the only ones he considered himself average in were Illusions, and telekinesis. But he did have a bit of adaptability in small ways, such as enhancing his decent speed or strength individually. So he did so. In a blink of an eye, the illusion if his clothing was down, his hand held the compound bow that had hung from his hip, and snapped it into its correct position.

Next an arrow was nocked, aimed, then released. Now, all that were around would see the one thing that Valashu considered himself superior at: archery, or use of a bow. When the e razor sharpened durasteel tip connected with the base of the neck, leading to the body of the liquor, scissoring its way inside then out the other. As is known however, glass can't simply be cut like so, leading to the top of the bottle and bottom crack apart then to separate thusly landing some distance from each other, the wick still burning. All with little to no time to line a shot.

Had he the proper time he might have been able to cut the wick.

At this point, Valashu sighed, calling out, "I won't be a part of a game of hide and seek, one that potentially involves the death of innocents. That is sheer cowardice. Expect that should you see my face again, it won't be as a man simply asking you to leave!" At those words he vanished from sight, walking from the bar unseen due to the White Current.