Public Raid on Kattada

[Arris Windrun]

Locations:

Kattada Jedi Temple​

Tidehome​

​

---

Sometimes the simplest action can have the widest reach.

Simple, like attacking a Jedi Temple in the midst of a war that began in the heart of the galaxy and now spreads out - ripples and waves.

Simple because your enemy gathers in the very place they keep their knowledge and wealth. Serenity invites chaos, prosperity inspires greed. The Jedi have always been the prophets of their own condemnation.

This day is no exception; what was once a sanctuary will become a memorial. If the Jedi have anything left, then they prove it here.

Make no mistake, SITH, we do not attack this world because it's easy. This is the struggle. It is our goal to be stronger, to seek out strife and rise to the opportunity. That is why our friends from the underworld see things our way.

This galaxy? It's falling to fucking pieces. Speaking of...

A bulk freighter approached the Jedi Temple from above, soaring through the atmosphere at speeds dangerously high for its size. From a distance, it began to sparkle as carefully placed charges detonated along the whole hull. Whole crates fell and scattered like meteors aimed at the exposed areas of the temple grounds. The rest of it transformed into a whole lot of molten slag as the rest of the freighter was destroyed high above by a much larger blast and rained down like hellfire.

It was certainly meant to be a violent opener, but the shock and awe belied a truer purpose. On the horizon, an incoming swarm of vessels, each with raiders aboard. Ideally, their approach would be masked by the overwhelming sensory information and chaos of debris, allowing them to land.

Tags:
Mercy Kaila Irons Vestra Tane Jessica "Jes" Howe Tamsin Graves Darth Virelia Darth Hydra Quinn Varanin Hasuras Na-Gerra Lirka Ka William Ames Helix Tara Swail Drystan Creed Jend-Ro Quill Tilon Quill Connel Vanagor Mishel Althea Voidwalker Jace Rhane Wuxia Wukong Feng Huang Auteme Vodet Brooke Waters Kito Acier Moonbound Aris Noble Jared Starchaser Casaana Brandyn Sal-Soren Alana Calloway Domina Prime Hasuras Na-Veyra Hasuras Va-Kull Allyson Locke Kyric Koda Fett Gavin Restur

 

[Arris Windrun]

​

Objective: Draw a crowd
Allies: Mercy | Kaila Irons
Enemies: Jared Starchaser | Valery Noble | Tilon Quill / Jend-Ro Quill

Under the cover of falling debris, a transport flew fast and low for a rough landing. Packed inside are a couple dozen of the bottom of the barrel. Thugs and killers from Narsh's underworld, all high on stims and sloshed on juma juice, with only one order on their mind: loot n' shoot.

The loading ramp dropped, and out poured the packed rats, armed with whatever they could get their hands on. They began to carry out that order fantastically. Surely they weren't a match for any Jedi, but they added phenomenally to the ongoing chaos. Blaster fire and the cacophony of a freighter meteor shower.

Arris sauntered out from the back, armed only with a pair of gifted pistols and a nasty assortment of ammo to choose from.

She turned a grin back at Mercy.

"Looks like the plan worked and we didn't die."

Yet.

The cyborg fired two rounds into the air.

"You all know what to do! Grab what you can - apprentices, too. Kill if you gotta, but as soon as we make the call, we're getting the eff outta here!"

A valiant member of the Kattada Planetary Guard was first on the scene. She made sure to evacuate as many of the immediate civilians and made herself a martyr. Arris leveled her barrel at the woman's chest and fired.

 

[Tilon Quill]

This complex community — the tall temple proper, the ExplorCorps base, the coastal village and underwater sites that made up Tidehome, and more — had come under a very similar assault very recently. As the first wave of debris came down and raiders appeared on the horizon, lockdowns and evacuations and defensive positions were already getting in gear.

Tilon was in a work jumpsuit at the moment, oil-smeared and halfway through a shift in the repair hangars. In that recent attack he'd laid claim to a Heavy ACP repeater, which he'd kept sensibly stowed under the workbench ever since beside some basic personal energy shield belts. He strapped on one of those, clipped on his saber, grabbed the big repeater, and took a quick slurp from the water fountain. That was basically it for prep time in a situation like this. That, and sending a quick comm ping to his father, who was in town and needed to know if he didn't already.

Within a couple of minutes Tilon had line of sight on one of the enemy transports touching down. A vague sense of dread was kicking off, but being not particularly strong in the Force, he figured another Jedi might have been feeling something stronger, worse, and more specific in his situation, so he took the safety off the repeater and tried to pay attention.

Quite rapidly he saw the reasons. Arris Windrun , who he'd considered a friend — even invited her here to train. Mercy , who he'd worked with on that Rishi Maze expedition, co-led it with her even. Rough around the edges, but this...

Anger suggested bringing up that repeater and opening fire. He told anger to shut the fuck up and started figuring out good options.

Being extremely visible, he assumed they could see him; everyone could see him all the time. So good options needed to come together quickly. And as Arris shot a planetary guard in the chest and Tilon did likewise to a random raider coming at him with a machete, good options ran out of time entirely.

He was closest to Mercy, who could wipe the floor with him on her worst day. He hefted the ACP and headed for her.

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

The spectacle of space combat loomed large in orbit as a full compliment of Sabaoth-destroyers emerged from hyperspace and gave battle to any defending vessels. From the ships poured forth a swarm of squadrons, shuttles among them, and these descended upon Kattada. Leaping free of his transport, Hasuras na-Gerra landed just outside the complex.

Wearing alchemized plate armor from head to toe and the horned skull of a lesser-Terentatek upon his head, the Vahlan corsair drew out a hammer from a belt loop. Upon his other arm he hoisted a shield, it too gleamed with the darkly burnished bronze aspect of Sith alchemy. Two Tuk'ata hounds of the Vahlan kennels leaped off the shuttle's ramp to join him, attuned to his commands.

As more transports landed, they disgorged more corsairs of the Vahl - each imbued with the power of the goddess in the Dark Side and wielding some manner of blade.

The raiders advanced on the complex, with raw avarice.

Reaching out into the miasma of the Dark Side, Gerra joined his mind to that of his siblings.

Let us show them the might of the Hasuras.

Hasuras Na-Eleos Hasuras Na-Veyra Hasuras Va-Kull

 

[Vodet]

"Well, we need to get the ships in the air!" Shouted one of the human Jedi.

"Listen, those are Sith, we're not equipped to go fighting them with our fighters…" Said the Duros, one of the ExplorCorps, non Force user.

"Ships on the ground are useless. The Oasis is on its way, it'll provide support for us." Said the third, a female Iridonian, maybe Dathomiri, Vodet wasn't certain.

The Steward of Kattada had entered the briefing room. There were reports of Sith and bounty hunters on Kattada. That wasn't ideal. But they had their citizens and the civilians to protect. Hearing that the Oasis was on its way was a good thing. Jared was the son of Starchaser, and it meant the leading family had heard.

"Prep the Sentinels. And send a runner out to Tidehome. We'll need the Witches help. We'll have to defend our younglings and the vault." Vodet said, matter-of-factly. A deep breath from the Yinchorri, and he hoped that the Lightsworn and Republic were hearing this. He assumed the Alliance already knew, but if they didn't? They better come running too.

This was an explorer's temple, not a Guardian Temple.

"I will head to the vaults. Protect the younglings, and protect the Temple. Remember, buildings can be rebuilt, but life loss, any life loss is an issue." Vodet meant their own lives, not necessarily the attackers, but if he could get them to leave without killing? He'd try.

Such wanton destruction was wasteful. Insulting to such a world.

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Whole crates fell and scattered like meteors aimed at the exposed areas of the temple grounds. The rest of it transformed into a whole lot of molten slag as the rest of the freighter was destroyed high above by a much larger blast and rained down like hellfire.

Someone had to fall for the distraction or at least mitigate it, Quill figured, staring up at the tumbling debris. Guiding that much incoming material away with telekinesis would have taken a handful of Jedi Masters stronger than him. But he was the one here by happenstance — just visiting Tilon and tuning Jakku Chimes for the training halls, and slightly drugged to take the edge off the proximity of so many people — right under the material spray, so he was up to bat. He'd have to be the someone.

He dug deep into the uncaring patterns of thought that unlocked Suerton probability manipulation. Everything shifted just slightly. When slag and crates crashed down they did so relatively safely. Lots of near misses, plenty of which were probably natural. There was no telling whether he'd actually done anything to effect this effect, but either way nobody had been hit.

There was a small, rocky spit of land jutting into the churn of the ocean. Quill headed down it and sent out a blaring Force call, or as good a one as he could manage offhand, attempting to draw attention and opposition his way.

 

[Jared Starchaser]

They had returned from the recent trip to that ice ball moon and Jared was more than happy. Kattada, for better or worse, was becoming like home for him. It blended the temperature of Mirial with the locales of his family estate on Corellia. Hopefully Kaia was returning there to keep it in line, if not it'd end up being their cousin Riley. Which… well, at least it was still on the Starchaser hands.

One of the catamaran racing sailboats was in front of him, a few empty beer bottles next to it, and a third on the pontoon as he worked to remove the rudder. It was pockmarked and scratched. He was planning to sand and smooth it out. Looking back to Valery, he nodded. Jared didn't mind doing some work like this.

His green skin felt warm under the heat of Kattada's sun.

But the heat wasn’t only the sun. He could sense it before he saw it. Jared turned. Eyes to the sky. This was not what this world was about. The Force caused him to reach for his saber, calling it from the bag near the beach chair.

“Uh, Val?”

Valery Noble

 

[Brooke Waters]

She had spent so much time working in this world. The Golden Sun was here, and the Blue Coral that she spent so much time cultivating. As the runner came, the Arch Witch of the Blue Coral Divers looked up. She had her recently new ship, the Quiet Storm, docked here. Loading up with some new technologies. What she didn't expect was the shields on the Temple to be lit up. She was finishing her cultivation here.

The runner; out of breath took a moment to center themselves.

"Attack. On the temple. On the world."

Brooke knew what that meant.

Sith. Bounty hunters with no honor. A world like this? She was going to step in.

"Take your leave my friend." She stated as she moved, grabbing her blue robe. Donning the hood. "The Blue Coral Clan will stand with our guardians." Brooke, Token, stood and moved. Stepping close to a structure of Blue Coral in this small hut she whispered to it.

"Nereid, River, alert our Stormborn. Tidehome will be under attack. Is under attack. Send who we can to defend the Temple.

"Contact Vodet and let him know I'm entering the field."

Jedi may be dogmatic about their approach. But the Stormborn? The Blue Coral Divers? The Witches? They were of the natural world. They were here to protect what was theirs.

And around Tidehome there was a darkening of clouds. Not instantly but growing. Thunder could be heard, far off and growing.

She stepped out of her hut, not with a lightsaber. But with something more.

 

[Thalen Dhorain]

Tags:

Kattada. Thalen had decided to visit the planet once he had moved back onto his travels, and almost immediately it seemed to have been thrown into some kind of situation. The things the Force threw him into. None of it was fun to watch at the end of the day. In the past, he'd have been a bystander. Someone who would stand back and watch the chaos unfold and record it all for the Elders of his family to watch, but in more recent times Thalen had found himself being less of a passive observer and more of a participant in the chaos. It went against what he had taught. It went against his role as an observer...but who was around to punish him? If this was the Will of the Force, then he was still at least being a Tool of it.

"...Good thing I picked this up. Hopefully whoever it belongs to doesn't mind I'm boring it."

A more accurate term would be stealing it but that was little details that wasn't important as Thalen twirled the guandao through the air with an empty smile plastered across his face. It was different to his quarterstaff. A lot of his gimmicks he could perform with his quarterstaff wasn't possible with this...but at the same time, the guandao far increased his lethality, evident as the nearby raider charging at him would learn as Thalen flicked his wrist out to stab them with the blade.

"...If you are aiming for Jedi, I am sorry to tell you, you are barking up the wrong hill...That is the phrase right?"

He tapped his chin in thought at that, as the raider's hands grasped at the shaft of the guandao in an attempt to remove it from their mid-drift. Thalen blinked at the act, before giving a playful shrug of his shoulders.

"Oh well."

A swift yank of the Guandao and a swing of the weight on the other end of the staff later, the raider crumpled down to the ground. That empty smile still on Thalen's face as he threw the guandao over his shoulder and looked around. Alright...Where was he going to go to next...

 

[Valery Noble]

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers |

Valery had been standing a short distance from Jared, her hands brushing sand from her trousers as she took in the sight of the water. For a brief moment, it felt like calm. Then the tremor hit her senses. The sudden swell in the Force was impossible to ignore, carrying with it promises of violence.

Her head turned skyward almost in unison with Jared, her expression tightening as her hand went to the lightsaber clipped at her hip. The warmth of the sun seemed to vanish, replaced by the oppressive weight of what was coming. "I feel it too," she said, her voice low but edged with urgency. "Something bad is about to happen."

Her eyes swept toward the Temple, the source of the ripple that was quickly becoming a wave. She looked back at Jared, her stance already shifting as if ready to move. "We need to get to the Temple. Now."

With that, Valery pulled the saber free into her hand and broke into a run, the bond with the Force guiding every step as she pushed herself toward where she was needed most.

Jared Starchaser ​

 

[Connel Vanagor]

NO MORE GAMES, NO MORE PLAYING NICE
KATTADA TEMPLE
PORTAL

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel, Raguel
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]

The sky was already burning when they stepped through.

The portal behind them pulsed with residual energy, its light swallowed by the thickening smoke and distant flames. The Kattada Temple was under siege—not for the first time. But this time, Connel Vanagor wasn’t walking in as the son of a fallen legend.

This time, he was the reckoning.

The moment his boots hit the shattered stone of the outer temple grounds, he felt the waves of chaos crashing around them. Screams. Explosions. The low, humming terror of a freighter’s molten slag collapsing from orbit.

His HUD auto-calibrated as ash clung to the wind. A distant fireball bloomed like a false sunrise. Michael was reading the same thing.

Gabriel. Full combat spread. Azrael, get eyes high. Sariel, paint every landing vector they’ve got. If it’s not Jedi, it’s a frakkin’ corpse.

His voice was low. Controlled. Calm.


Not like Connel’s “calm” though, calm in that frightening way that his father once had. Only now, the light didn’t blaze from him like a bonfire. No—Connel’s light bled like mist from a blade. Cold. Controlled. Terrifying.

A light that hunted the dark.

The others needed no second command. Omega Squad fanned out like shadows on instinct. Boots silent on temple stone, visors flashing, weapons up. Even in chaos, they looked ready. This was their home too, now. Connel had made sure of that.

He reached up and pulled his mask down—not for anonymity. For focus.

The second his fingers left the edge of the helmet, he drew Dawn’s Light. That long-hilted blade blazed to life with a snap-hiss that cut through the cacophony. Permafrost blue fire cast light across shattered columns and broken marble.

You desecrate a sanctuary, he growled aloud, voice amplified in a way that felt less like tech and more like thunder. And you mistake our silence for fear.

He wasn’t even shouting, but the Force made sure they heard him.

That was your first mistake.

Something surged in him then. Not rage. Not hate.

Conviction.

This wasn’t just about war. This wasn’t just about the desecration of knowledge or the violation of peace. This was personal. This was for Coren Starchaser—who answered the call when no one else did. This was for Valery Noble—who stood at Caltin’s side even when others fled. They stood by his father at the Shadow Temple. He stands with them wherever they are, like now, especially now, at the Temple on the planet Kattada.

This was for the old masters. For the archives. For the new Padawans who’d never understand what this place had meant.

And most of all… this was for Caltin Vanagor.

---

You wanted to test the Jedi? Then let me show you the kind that walk in shadow. Let me show you what my father was meant to be.

---

He raised his blade as if summoning judgment itself, then gestured forward—

No quarter.

The squad moved like ghosts. Connel like a wraith in armor, his blade severing both weapon and will. There were no speeches from the Sith. No declarations. The enemy came expecting to erase a name. Instead, they found a legacy.

And it didn’t ask for survival.

“Coren… you stood with him when no one else did. You offered your help without being asked. I will never forget that. And I will never let this place fall while I still draw breath. This temple was built by sacrifice. Today, it’s defended by one.”

“No more meThe moment they stepped through the portal, the air tasted like blood and carbon scoring.

Connel didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

The temple was on fire.
The sky? Cracking with debris and orbital slag.
The sounds? Screams—some from the dying, some from those who realized far too late that

Omega Squad had arrived.

He didn’t run. He walked.

Each step was deliberate. Weighted. The kind of gait one adopts when their soul is already decided. There would be no quarter. No speech. No lesson.

Just judgment.

His HUD lit up with hostile tags as Gabriel’s scan swept outward. Sariel was already setting up a sniper’s nest on the broken roofline. Jeremiel and Raphael held the line—while Azrael disappeared into smoke like a phantom.

[Targeting priority?] Gabriel asked over squad comms.

[The ones causing the most pain,] Connel answered coldly. [Start with the loud ones.

Omega Squad scattered like shadows caught in a flashbang—each member slicing through the battlefield with military precision and inhuman efficiency.

Connel ignited Dawn’s Light—the permafrost blade bursting to life like a storm held in suspension. The crystal’s edge hummed softly, as if even the kyber knew what was coming.

---

A raider crested the rubble ahead, dragging a young Jedi initiate by the collar. He didn’t have time to gloat. One swing—one—and he fell, cleaved from clavicle to hip. The initiate scrambled back in terror.

Stay behind me, Connel ordered without looking.

She obeyed.

The next two targets had blasters. They opened fire.

Connel advanced through the bolts like they were nothing. His armor sparked and his blade caught the shots, but he didn’t slow. He didn’t bother deflecting back. He just closed distance, shoved one to the ground with a Force-pulse that broke his spine on impact, and plunged his saber through the throat of the other.

Clean.

Efficient.

Unforgiving.

---

This wasn’t war.

This was retribution.

---

A heavy repeater nest came into view. Raiders screaming into coms, pivoting the turret to cover the plaza.

Gabriel, mark that repeater, Michael snapped.

Marked. Sariel, you’re up.

No reply. Just a whisper in the Force.

Seconds later, the gunner’s head exploded. A single silent shot from Sariel’s rifle, high above. Omega doesn’t ask questions.

The rest of the nest crew barely had time to register what was happening before Raphael arrived. The heavy’s silhouette loomed from the smoke like a myth, his repeater lighting up the nest with unholy volume. Nothing was left but meat and casing.

---

Behind him, Raguel landed hard, guns up. She hesitated at the brutality. At the lack of hesitation.

Connel—do we save the wounded?

Yes. But only after the job is done.

And the ones not wounded?

You know the rule. If they’re not Jedi…

She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.

Connel Vanagor. Masked. Blade down. Breathing. Watching. Waiting.

He was becoming the thing the Sith feared in their quietest moments.

You thought peace made us soft, he muttered to the corpses beneath his feet. You mistook restraint for weakness… We’re done with that… No Mercy for monsters.

TAGS • TAGS​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: New Plympto

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27 | Tic

TAGS: Aris Noble | Darth Hydra​

The portal spat them into fire. Ace stepped through just behind Connel Vanagor and Omega Squad, the world already drowning in smoke and screams. For a heartbeat, he stood in that same shadow as Omega Squad. Cold judgment rolling off them like a storm. Their movements were sharp, surgical. Efficient.

He was just on Kashyyyk, helping Omega set up an outpost at the Shadow Temple. Enough that Connel hadn't questioned his presence here. Tic chirped uneasily from his shoulder, photoreceptor flickering against the blaze. He could feel the pull of the Force like threads tugging at the edges of his mind - not toward Omega's formation, but elsewhere. Toward the temple. Toward the chaos spilling out where civilians were still running, where Padawans screamed.

Connel gave the word, "no quarter", and Omega Squad scattered into the fight like ghosts. For a moment Ace thought of following, but his feet were already carrying him in the opposite direction, breaking into a run across shattered stone and igniting his blue lightsaber.

"Stay close to me." he muttered under his breath to Tic.

The little droid whirred in agreement, then folded himself down against Ace's back. His limbs compacted neatly, photoreceptor dimming to a low flicker as if bracing for the run ahead.

Ace vaulted a fallen column, boots slamming down hard as blaster fire lit up around him. He wasn't here to tally kills or make a point. He was here because people were going to die if he didn't move. And he wasn't about to let this temple fall on his watch.​

 

[Drystan Creed]

KATTADA

A lone figure clad in black stepped out of the transport, carrying himself with an almost casual air. Hardly the demeanor one would expect when raiding a Jedi temple—more the sort of ease one might carry while strolling through a tranquil park.

With the sword at his hip, he rubbed his chin, tapping into his communicator as his gaze swept across the battlefield in search of a worthy mark. Quality over quantity—that was the name of his game.

He wasn't looking for treasure like the others. No, what he sought was a challenge. A reason—a good one—to draw the blade at his side. And he hoped someone on the other side was capable of giving it to him.

"Let's see how close to death we can get today." He meant that both ways.

In a blur he was gone, vanishing from the transport with impossible speed. To the naked eye it might have looked like teleportation, but in truth he was simply too fast for the average onlooker to track.

Wuxia Wukong Feng Huang

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

PERSONAL FLIGHT LOG – Entry #1863
Location: – Kattada
Assigned Craft: My X-wing
Astromech Partner: BRED (BB-30)
Current Mood: “Not in the…”
Background Noise: Engines, and wind flying by me.

You know, I’ve always heard people say war feels different once you’re in it. That somehow the chaos makes you forget the plan. Maybe that’s true for some. But up here, strapped into the seat of my N-1, it’s the exact opposite. The more the galaxy burns, the clearer everything feels.

The raiders came in heavy — dropships bleeding through the atmosphere, patched-up freighters trying to fake like they belong in a real fight. Ugly things, the kind of ships you don’t fly so much as survive. To them, Kattada was supposed to be easy pickings.

Not today.

BRED had already lit up the whole screen with targets.

Bwoop-whee [Translation: Pick one, hotshot. They’re all flying like banthas in a dust storm.]


I told him to mark the ones with the biggest payload signatures. No sense letting them reach the ground with more troops or gear. He whirred, snarked something about me trying to “play hero,” and then painted three fat haulers on my HUD.

One pass. That’s all it took. I don’t mean to brag, but…well, okay, maybe just a little. The X-wing screamed through their descent lanes, and suddenly the skies were filled with debris. Engines popped like fireworks. A couple tried to break formation and scatter, but this bird outruns anything they’ve got.

Wrrrooo? [Translation: You know you’re basically a one-ship blockade, right? Should I start charging tolls?]

I told him to focus on the ones trying to claw back into orbit. No way these raiders get to slink off and regroup. We crippled them where they landed — scorched repulsorlifts, slagged engines, a lot of smoking wrecks that aren’t going anywhere. Watching them scramble on the ground and realize the rides they came in on were dead husks? Yeah…that was something.

Connel and the others are down there, doing what they do best. I don’t have that kind of fight in me — not like him. But I can fly. And today, that was enough. The raiders may have gotten here, but they’re not leaving.

Whiiiir-click [Translation: Note to self: next time, bring marshmallows.]

Sometimes I wonder if BRED’s more pyromaniac than astromech.


– Michael A.
Note - Remember to get some marshmallows


TAG:

This is where he is speaking

 

[Mercy]

Tilon Quill | Arris Windrun

Mercy was surprised to find out she had been on this planet before. On one of the beaches relatively nearby even.

"You know I was trying to kidnap a few turtles from a beach near here with Kloe Weo just a few weeks ago." Scratching her head there as she looked around, eyes almost unseeing the trauma and pain they were inflicting on this community. "Funny how that goes, huh?" Mercy didn't even realize it had a Jedi Enclave last time she was here.

She turned to march towards one of the buildings when someone drew her attention.

Tilon.

Eyebrows went up. Mercy knew, of course, that he was a Jedi. So in the back of her head she had already made the calculations that some day they might find themselves on opposite sides of the equation. She didn't think it would be this soon though.

"Tilon, friend." Mercy called out with a smille, waving a little, as if this encounter hadn't changed everything between them in one instant. "I will ignore that big karking gun in your hands for a moment." She did nothing of the sort. Her hide was already being saturated with the Force, hardening it, magnifying her resilience.

"If you put down the gun, turn around, I will let you leave with your ship." A soft shrug. "For old time's sake."

It only seemed fair... besides, Mercy didn't think he'd go for it anyway. He was a piss-poor example of a Jedi, it's what made him stomachable to her, but every single one of them that carried that title around had a hero complex of some sort.

 

[Tilon Quill]

While Mercy talked, Tilon got the measure of her and their surroundings, a landing-suitable space between temple and beach. All things considered, he wanted to lure her to the beach where her multitudinous advantages might be less, or might have counters.

He couldn't stand considering her and Arris the same way he'd evaluate any other raider, but it needed doing. He could come to terms with his own poor read on people later, and with his loss of, say, a friend and a half.

"Rain check."

Bringing the ACP to his shoulder would have taken too long and accuracy wasn't a priority at this range, especially since Mercy's backdrop was mainly raiders and their landing ship. So he fired from the hip, full auto, backing sidelong toward the beach. His foot came down over the edge of the permacrete into sand.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Objective: draw a crowd
Allies: Mercy | Kaila Irons
Enemies: Jared Starchaser | Valery Noble | Tilon Quill

Arris slid to a stop when she saw Tilon of all people, and Mercy waving him down like an old friend. She knew the two were acquainted from a brief conversation she had in the lockers. Which... reminded her of another conversation.

The teacher part...depends what you want to learn and who you're comfortable around. I could run you out to Kattada. Unaffiliated Jedi, Wardens of the Sky, space witches, a beach."

Windrun chuckled, though it wasn't the usual arrogant joy.

"Hey... Tilon. Looks like I found my way here after all," her broken tone betrayed the words.

That was right when Tilon's ACP let rip, perhaps even drowning out her words.

She stood with a gunslinger's stance as conflicting thoughts rose in her skull, unable to shoot her friend. Then, she noticed a figure in her periphery - a mirialan man? And right beside him, a woman who looked remarkably familiar. It had been some time, but Arris and Valery had crossed paths before.

It didn't take her long to see the Jedi weapons and come to a conclusion.

"Chiiit, Merce, we've got company!"

 

[Mercy]

Tilon Quill Arris Windrun

Mercy smiled.

"As you say." She didn't wait a moment longer. The instant Tilon squeezed the trigger, Mercy was already bursting into a run towards him. Steps causing the ground to shake, bounding towards her former friend, as bullets sprayed in her direction. Some of the missed their target and hit raiders behind her, making grated gore cheese out of them.

She could have protected them.

But she didn't care.

He might be surprised by just how quickly she got to him. Several of his bullets hitting mid-stride, but they didn't do much to slow her down. Slamming into her body and bursting at impact. Momentum carried her forward anyway.

A breath later Mercy was already upon him, fist coming down like a piston to smash into his chest.

 

[Tilon Quill]

A fist like an Ewok walker-breaker smashed Tilon down along the beach, in severe pain. Simultaneously, however, perhaps a fraction of a second earlier, Mercy had two serious problems to contend with.

Problem one: Tilon had seen her fight. He'd been ringside for every round of the Kaggath, watched as she went up against varied and escalating opposition. Her tactics had been known to vary, but not the character and priorities she brought to her style of short-range pugnacity. Charge in and smash was her dominant preference. It was, the uncharitable said, approximately half her personality.

Problem two: an ACP Heavy Repeater had a bayonet.

 

[Domina Prime]

I HEAR THIS VOICE KEEP ASKING ME
IS THIS MY BLOOD OR IS IT BLASPHEMY?

OPEN​

Dima hated aquatic worlds. Loathed them, in fact. Every landing was the same: wet airlocks, too much pressure, everything smelling faintly of brine. And Tidehome? No different. Sure, the underwater cities were gleaming, all vaulted domes and crystal-lit avenues. Sure, the soup was so good she'd actually considered kidnapping the chef. But soup didn't change the fact that she was waist-deep in an ocean planet. And Dima had never trusted a place where you couldn't see the ground.

Still, duty first. The cause demanded coin, and coin demanded business. Which is why she was currently looming beside mountains of crates. Mandalorian weapons packed tight and stacked higher than her own horns, arguing with some damp-skinned merchant who looked like he'd crawled straight out of a fishbowl.

"These are...authentic?" the man asked, suspicion dripping from every syllable.

Behind her mask, Dima's face twisted. She spread her four arms wide, gesturing at herself like she was the galaxy's most obvious answer.

"The FETH are you even on about?" her vox spat, metallic and sharp. "Do I LOOK LIKE some slithering snake to you? The gear is GOOD. Mandalorian Made~"

The buyer's gills flared as he pressed. "But...is it Beskar?"

Dima let out a groan that rattled her helmet. Then, claws screeching as she dragged them across her visor, she sent sparks flying in a shower.

"Wha- NO! No, no, no!" She threw up her arms, tail lashing. "Sacred steel is for Kith & Kin! This?" she slapped the crates one by one in a syncopated thunk-thunk-thunk. "Songsteel frames. Light as a feather. Ion-tracking armaments. These beauties'll make even the gods crap themselves."

The buyer squinted, clearly unconvinced.

"Hmm...doubtful. Prove it."

There was a long, flat silence. Dima stared. Blinked behind the visor. Finally, her vox dripped deadpan disbelief.

"...Prove it how? What, you want me to blow up a train? Bit much, don't you think?"

And then the universe, being the cruel prankster it was, decided to answer her.

Above Tidehome, the waters boiled as the skies ripped apart. Clouds churned like a whirlpool as swarms of ships screamed down in fire-trails, dark banners snapping. The first civilian shrieks echoed through the city as the word tore from panicked throats—

"SITH!"

Dima's head tilted. "...Huh. Spoke too soon."

The buyer scrambled, shouting to his men to retreat. Too late. One clawed hand shot out, seizing him by the collar and yanking him back so hard his feet skidded. Dima's mask loomed close, vox dropping into a growl.

"Oh no no no. You wanted a demo? Guess what, fish-boy. Ha'rangir delivers."

Her claws ripped through a crate's bindings. The lid popped, and within gleamed a monstrous artillery launcher, all crystalline coils and folding braces. With a grunt of delight, she hauled it out, the weapon's weight settling across her shoulders like it belonged there.

"Mm-hmm...let's see..." she muttered, flicking the scope, her voice suddenly casual. "Say, X9, what you think that range is? Five hundred? Six?"

Her droid companion beeped primly. "Approximately eight hundred yards, Prime."

She pulled her eye off the scope, blinking in mild surprise. "...Really? Well damn. Good eye."

She dialed it in, then steadied all four arms around the cannon. The weapon screamed as she squeezed the trigger, spitting out a blinding rail of ionized crystal that split the skies.

A heartbeat later, it slammed clean through the thruster of a Sith assault craft. The vessel lurched, spun, and plummeted like a drunk mynock straight into the ocean below, throwing up a geyser that rattled the city domes.

Dima threw her head back and howled laughter, vox breaking into static. "HAA! You SEE that?! Ohhh that's beautiful!"

She shoved the still-smoking cannon into one of the guard's arms, watching him nearly collapse under its weight as the barrel smashed against the floor. Then, with all four claws extended toward the pale, quivering buyer, she demanded,

"Now. Pay up."

Because by the looks of it? He and his people were going to need every single crate.

As the city shook under descending fire, Dima tilted her head skyward, visor glinting.

"Curious. What are the little godlings up to this time?" she chittered, focusing her eyes on the temple in the distance in which they descended upon.