Public Finder's Keepers: Mission to Jakku

[Thalia Senn]

Enemies: TK-818 Kyrel Ren Inferious The Mongrel Koleric
Allies: Dagon Kaze Romi Jade Viers Connory

The sand whipped at her face as she blasted over dunes and past fleeing scavengers. The incursion was even making itself known outside of the outpost. She needed to stop this somehow. As she neared the outpost she felt the familiar presence of Master Jade and she breathed a sigh of relief. She was okay. There were several others there too, none shining as brightly as Master Jade though. Several malevolent ones too that made her stomach turn.

As the gates came into view she pulled both of her lightsabers from her chest holster and twisted them together before activating one of the blades, holding the saberstaff on its second length to give her some reach outside of the small speeder's open-air cockpit. She sped through Niima Outpost's gates, zooming past scavengers and shoppers who had started their day just trying to get the day's supplies. She saw one of the raiders and leaned out of her cockpit and bisected the raider at the waist. She didn't have time to see what happened to her but she could hear the blasterfire coming her way now. With a grunt she slid to a stop, a booted foot out to catch herself as her speeder skidded to a stop, its airbrakes working overtime as she barreled towards the group of raiders starting to encircle Romi Jade and the other Jedi she had sensed. They were moving in on them.

She jumped from her speeder and gave a swing of her blade, a burst of telekinetic power flying haphazardly at the one with the funny hat. (Sinh)

"You're all done for!"

 

[Koleric]

Koleric was so deep into the slaughter that he didn't sense the man that sent a blast towards him, before he knew what was happening it was too late. Sent flying into a nearby wall he crashed into the ramshackle building, disappearing. Dust was thrown up and then silence from the war cries of the madman.

Inside he moved around groaning and catching his breathe from it being knocked out of him, looking around and out he could see a the blue laser sword and hear its humming, if it was the last thing he did Koleric would wear it around his belt, pulling down his face shielding Koleric began his attack blade in hand stepping out of the debris.


Cautiously the barbaric man came out coming down from his adrenaline fueled blood lust, his sword in one hand would be no match for the weapon the Jedi carried but it would have to do, taking an almost marital arts stance his foot swept around moving his hands in a showy fashion, with each movement the wind sped up picking up sand creating a makeshift smoke screen to blind the Jedi.

Koleric's way of slaughter was barbaric and brash but he knew better to rush in against another force user, especially at the other end of a Jedi's blade.

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Gren Blidh]

Enemies: Fate.
Allies: Maybe you.

Damn... the Jedi are already here.

Jakku was an barren hellhole. But this barren hellhole had supplies which smuggler Gren Blidh desperately needed after his escape from Tatooine with a new ship. Funny how fate worked; it seemed desert planets were his lot in life as of late. The Maw attack on Jakku had already circulated through smuggling and pirate networks before it even happened. Information was slippery like that. Gren had never met them before, but the Brotherhood sounded as cunning as they were ruthless and vicious. That is to say, they sounded like fine people.

Unfortunately, Gren couldn't have arrived before the Jedi tried to put a stop to all the fun, which would make his job harder. For what it was worth, a scrap would keep it interesting, at least. This particular desert shanty town was already erupting in violence, and the sound of blaster bolts and the faint hum of lightsaber blades mingling with muted screams was the orchestra of chaos. Altogether, it was quite easy to simply walk in. Everyone was too busy not dying to notice the black-clad smuggler as he sauntered through the streets, his long trenchcoat billowing in the wind.

Upon seeing the local scrapyard had already been pillaged, Gren grimaced. He was unlikely to find any suitable parts for his ship now, but the situation could still be salvaged. Across the alleyway, a man was desperately trying to jumpstart a speeder bike to make a hasty escape. So Gren did what any upstanding citizen would do; he reached for his blaster and pulled the trigger, putting a bolt into his chest.

Slowly, the smuggler crossed towards his victim, his shadowy figure looming over the fellow as he clutched his chest and groaned. He appeared to have come from the local sinkhole of a bar across the street. While Gren stood over him, making his presence known, the man looked up helplessly.

"I... I don't deserve this!"

"Deserve's got nothing to do with it," Gren said, and his next blaster bolt found the target between the man's eyes. He reached down and began rifling through the pockets of the fresh corpse.

Credits... credits would do fine.

 

[TK-818]

The force hit him by surprise, his precognitive senses struck far too late as his body adjusted as much as it could within the reaction time given. Stricken back by the power of the Force, the Knight of Ren tumbled back, breaking the circle as the other Knights became aware of the newcomer, another Jedi.

Rising slowly from the sands, Sinh radiated with anger as he stood tall amidst the burning backdrop of Niima Outpost. Sliding his hand along his cap, the Knight of Ren silently positioned himself into a fierce stance with his pole weapon at the ready as he slammed his free fist against his chest. Thump, thump, thump. His armored glove slammed against his torso, a small signal of communication worked between Inferious and himself over the years.

In a flash of movement the Knight of Ren reached out with the Force, faking a momentous pull to no effect before slamming his hand outward. His dupe had been followed by a powerful telekinetic force grip of Force Stasis, an attempt to freeze the Jedi in place and leave her open for Inferious .

The Knights of Ren were not out to play fair, they were out to capture or kill, and Sinh was craving a kill.


Thalia Senn | The Mongrel | Kyrel Ren | Inferious | Romi Jade | Viers Connory

 

[Inferious]

Like the other Knight's Ren Inferious surprised by away the attack, being pushed back barely catching himself. Although this did not stop them from attacking it did change their course if attack.

Readying himself for a volley of attacks Inferious had his blade at the ready. He had heard the sound of metal pounding a signal from Sinh they have fought together in many battles and this was just one of many of their trucks.

Feinting a Force attack Sinh attempted to hold their target in place, as soon as he began the bluff Inferious was sent into motion shooting himself forward with the Force even if Sinhs attack didn't work it would be trouble to take on the two of them.

Inferious' blade at the ready he cleaved at their victims leg in an attempt to take them off, if they couldn't kill they would cripple the poor fool.

​

 

[Calruss Shiman]

Location: Jakku, Niima Outpost
Allies: None
Enemies: Kyrel Ren The Mongrel Alars Keto Inferious TK-818

Within seconds the savage was sent flying backwards into the dry sands away from Calruss, who calmly kept a calm and loose stance while the man began to get his bearings. The push did a good job in providing some space between as well as the build up of frustration that was clearly starting to get to the merciless commander. Keeping his eyes on him as he gathered his bearing the commander soon replied with a threat of his own, something of which was met with a nonchalant roll of the eyes from the teen "Oh please..." he grumbled out just before the man reached for a metallic cylinder and threw it in his direction.

Almost instantly smoke began to pour out of the object and surround him in a thick cloud of smoke, soon blinding his vision from the dangerous foe who could of been anywhere at this point. Quickly, his head swivelled in all directions, his ears picking up sounds of swords scraping across the floor and strange chants that were from a mind of pure madness. They seemed to be coming from all directions, almost as if there were multiple clones of him doing it at the same thing. He had to admit, all this was giving a sense of unease, like anyone else in this situation would feel like. Yet, even he knew letting it get to him would show weakness. Taking a deep breath, he steadied his posture and continued to rotate his body around in expectation for him to show at any second.

Suddenly, the heretic jumped out of the smoke from the right of him and went for a quick swing for his head in an attempt to finish the duel early. Calruss saw his opponent jump out in the corner of his eye and swiftly fell to one knee, only just about escaping the sword by a hair as he felt the air go past his head from the strike. Then, without wasting time he tried to spring himself up to his feet and swing his saber in an upwards semi circle, aiming for the hilt of the mans sword in a bid to disarm him.

 

[Maestus]

She did not bother with a smirk or comment, as he called her weak. Verbal sparring would be of no benefit at this moment. No, now was the time for action.

As Aaran Tafo unleashed the barrage against her, she grunted. Then held her hands out in front of her. She recalled her training on Mustafar with Darth Solipsis . When she had to figure out how to stop herself from falling. Closing her eyes, she commanded the Dark Side and let lose a steady stream of energy, slowing his attack. After a few seconds, the hits slowed. She then pulled her hands back, and shoved them forward, sending the Jedi backwards.

Weak? I have not even begun to punish you yet, Jedi. Come, this appears to be a contest of will and command of the Force. So, let me see what you have to offer. Perhaps you can be an asset to the Brotherhood.

She turned her body slightly sideways, still facing him. Hands in a ready position to either lash out or block his attack. Idly, she wondered how the others were faring. Her Chosen had better be scavaging and enslaving. Or there would be hell to pay.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

It was unfortunate for Maestus that at no point did Aaran ever consider the clash between them a contest. It was merely another routine task for him. Another lunatic that needed to be put down. Someone gifted a tiny amount of power by the Force and then proceeding to get drunk off it and abuse it. Goodness forbids someone saw their ability to connect with the greater universe around them and use it to ask the great questions of life.

Instead, as was commonplace for so many. They used what many could consider an instrument of the Gods for something as crude as violence. What could be used to teach, enlighten and heal was instead used to conquer and kill.

What an utter waste of potential.

Her desperate attempt to push him back was not as successful as she would have hoped, providing her with only the briefest moment of respite as he was forced back a few feet. Seemingly unperturbed by her assault of dark energy. The power licking against his skin but seemingly unable to do much more damage than lightly singe his robes. The burst of energy seemingly dissipating through his own power. It seemed that if she wanted to make a true impact against her opponent, she would need to call upon far greater power than she was currently outputting. Such casual blows would not suffice against the Warden of Peace.

Inhaling deep, Aaran cast his senses outwards. Recalling the teachings of the Order of Shasa, grateful for their instructions of the Waveform technique. A rather interesting cousin to Tutaminis. Instead of drawing on his own strength, the Jedi instead reached outwards, drawing on the considerable natural energy of Jakku. The harsh desert winds, the scorching sun. So much energy that it was willing to share with him if he only asked. Bolstering his own reserves of energy, taking most of the cost of the technique that he was preparing, instead of it drawing from his own considerable pool of stamina.

Thrusting both hands out. Sand erupted around the pair. Obscuring Maestus' vision, causing her to lose sight of the Jedi. His presence intermingled in the storm around her, making it difficult to discern his presence by relying on the Force.

Of course, Aaran was not satisfied with just blinding her. The Warlord needed to be taken down. And he would be the one to do it. Under the cover of the sandstorm, he struck from all angles, another fierce flurry of blows. Striking at her from beyond the range of her natural vision.

Maestus

 

[Maestus]

Damn, the Jedi was talented. Moreso than she originally gave him credit for. She was mildly disappointed he was not pushed back further. However, that was more proof she needed to tread carefully.

And then came the damnable blinding sand. She raised a hand, hoping to shield and protect her eyes. But it was a futile gesture. The sand was everywhere, blinding her and causing her to cough. She was disgusted with herself, showing weakness. She would rectify this weakness soon.

As it were, she was getting walloped by Aaran Tafo from all sides, all directions. He moved quick, and she wondered how he could see through the sand. Something else she would need to learn. The more he hit her, it hurt. And that hurt was channeled into rage. She willed it to course through her veins. Into every pore of her skin.

This whirlwind of sand reminded her yet again of her training on Mustafar. The fire bugs that kept biting at her, setting her skin ablaze. They were everywhere, engulfing her. She remembered what she did then, and summoned the Dark Side to her. Drawing on the Dark Side of the Force, as well as her own emotions, she raised both hands high above her head. A growl built in her throat. With an ear splitting roar that wouldn't be heard outside the sandy whirlwind, she thrust both her hands straight out to her sides.

A strong Force Repulse erupted in all directions. Aaran would have to cease his assault while he regained his balance, and she took advantage of that precious time to move out of the radius of the whirlwind. Quickly, she coughed out sand and cleared her vision. Then waited for her opponent to become visible again.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

The violent repulse of energy was enough to interrupt his assault. The brief lapse in concentration causing the artificial micro-storm to fade. His connection with the greater energies of Jakku fading as he was buffeted by the wave. Sending him skidding back several feet but maintaining his balance. With a wave of his hand, the sand was cleared away. Giving Maestus a clear view of her opponent.

He was not even winded. Only slightly singed from the earlier blast of Dark energy.

"Surrender. You are strong. But too untested to beat me." It was a command, not a request. Slowly he was whittling her down, forcing her to draw heavily on the Force to keep herself in the fight. Compared to his more conservative method, he was looking to simply outlast her. The moment she felt that the fight was lost, her will to continue would crumple. When it came to a battle between Force adepts. Mind games were just as important as the physical battle.

Was the Twi'lek in front of him strong? Certainly. But she had not truly waged war. Too used to these hits and run tactics. "I would advise you to draw your lightsaber. Otherwise, you'll exhaust yourself faster."

And like that, he was once again on the offensive. That same blinding speed propelling him forward. But no longer did his fists strike with the same force as before. Instead, his movements were more focused on accuracy and speed over power. Intent on striking her, but not with enough power to harm her.

Instead he had a different plan. For each strike, trace amounts of his own Will would leak into Maestus, and if the process was not stopped quickly, she would start to feel woozy, dizzy, her own body betraying her as Aaran employed the art of Malacia. Twisting her own bodies internal systems against her. Hoping to knock her out quickly.

Maestus

 

[Dagon Kaze]

The Jedi delved further into the battle, as wild marauders sought to claim him as a prized trophy. Their hits came strong, their massive weight and bloodlust behind each stroke of their weapons. He worked his way out the best way he knew - wits. Decisive swings of the blade in conjunction with the Force to pull, push, and blind. Niman. The diplomat's form.

What diplomacy he had offered the barbaric warrior a minute ago had certainly failed. The negotiations were cut short, as the man staggered back up from the rubble. An ewok's head gazing at the Jedi from the marauder's coat. Unhinged savagery.

The warrior did not simply rush at the padawan, he stalked like a predator stalks its prey; very different than the horde of recklessly charging raiders. He moved his legs with a surprising grace and balance, in complete contrast with his outward appearance. Before Dagon knew it, a cloud of smoke had formed between him and the brute.

The Jedi had waited on too long, putting himself in a stupidly vulnerable position.

Instinctively, his hand darted forward letting loose another blast of telekinesis forward aiming to disperse the veil and throw the warrior away if he had remained in its path.

Koleric

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Allies: Inferious TK-818 The Mongrel Alars Keto
Enemies: Romi Jade Thalia Senn Viers Connory

While Kyrel's main target was the likes of Romi Jade, a Jedi which whom Kyrel only sought to torture within the inch of her life to gain every secret to please the Heathen Priests. Any Jedi would do if they didn't have anything worthy to say. He would either convert them in the name of the Shadow, to serve the Maw in itself. If not then a good death would surely satisfy. The three Ren slowly began to encroach upon them all, the advance was cut short by the arrival of another signature in the Force. Within moments it was all stopped when it seemed a woman wielding a lightsaber emerged from out of nowhere, jumping from the speeder and attacking one of the Ren.

She was confident, holding a type of feistiness that impressed Kyrel. Normally anyone would have not approached the Knights of Ren, would have not done something so reckless as to attack directly. A smirk slowly started to emerge from the stitched lips of the wound in the Force. Finally, it seemed that someone was either stupid or brave to give him and the boys a challenge. A rush started to course through his corpse. Something that he felt once when he was alive. The thrill of a fight, of a challenge that would be something of a sport. Kyrel with his red blade lowered watched as how both of his Knights reacted.

Watching, impressed as the Knights either alone or as one was deadly just the same. The Ren were not something to be trifled with, they would burn anything that dared to defy them. To see both Sinh and Inferious work together as one was proof of his methods. Watching as how they both worked to deal with the girl. Kyrel approached letting out a laugh that would send chills down anyone's spine the way it came out of the vocabulater. "Really? Well Knights we might have to take this one with us. Take her arms and legs if need be, she doesn't need those to be taken alive."

 

[Maestus]

Was it the case of all Jedi to talk so incessantly? Aaran Tafo had much to say, and little Maestus cared to hear.

Did he really just order her to surrender? He must be out of his mind. She would not surrender. Doing so would be a great failure and shame. And be damned if she was going to suffer that fate.

She knew he would not stand idly by and let her destroy him. So she changed her mind as to her tactics. She developed a plan that would bring a quick and decisive end to this battle. She had to wait for an opening, a chance.

Aaran was once again on the attack. The blows he landed, though not intended to be as full impact as the earlier ones, still hurt to a lesser degree. Then she started to feel it. The nausea starting deep in her belly. She shifted her weight slightly, turning slightly to one side and putting her weight on her back foot.

Then the draining started. Her arms began to feel heavy, her eyes rapidly blinking to maintain focus. She had to act. He was right there, close enough to touch. Aaran did give her one piece of advice that she took. With a rapid hand wave, her lightsaber was in her hand. She held it up to Aaran's shoulder and ignited it all in one deft motion.

The plasma blade would go through his shoulder, missing all vital organs and arteries. The blade would cauterize the wound, so he wouldn't bleed to death. That was not her intent. No, she wanted to bring him in alive.

Aaran, i took your advice. Now, submit or you shall die.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Hook, line and sinker.

As the plasma blade ignited, Aaran's body shifted ever so slightly, supernatural reflexes allowing his movement in time with the ignition of the blade. The crimson sword would flash, piercing through his robes and emerging out the other side of his body. But something was wrong. There was no grunt of pain, no smell of burning flesh. Not even his arm limply falling due to muscles and tendons being severed.

There was only a small chuckle. And Aaran's other hand rocketing forward to strike Maestus cleanly in the jaw with enough force to send another man flying. And behind that strike delivered a moment after impact was a condensed burst of telekinetic power. Adding even more for the Warlord to deal with.

If she spared a glance towards his shoulder, she would see why he seemed so unaffected by what would normally be a crippling blow. Through the gap of the burnt fabric, she would see his skin, not charred or crisped up like she would expect. But unblemished aside from an angry red welt where her saber had grazed along his skin. Painful certainly, but not enough to distract him or hamper him. It was simply a normal wound anyone would receive in a fight. And one any seasoned warrior could power through or ignore.

So that left the question of how he managed to survive the blow so easily? Did he have cybernetics? Subdermal armour? Was he a master of Tutaminis? Possibly considering how he had managed to harness the natural energies of the planet around him and turn them against the Warlord. Or perhaps there was some other trick at work here?

It was the latter. The Talisman or Iron Fists, it gave his skin some rather unique properties. Allowing it to resist the effects of lightsabers, knives and other such attacks. He was not invulnerable by any means. Such blows still hurt unless properly deflected or blocked. But it did give him some measure of resistance to cheap shots like that.

"As I said." He intoned coldly. "One hundred percent." Cracking his neck, he stared across to the Warlord, hopping lightly on his feet, not unlike a boxer squaring up for a match. "If you're not interested in surrendering. Run. Otherwise, I will kill you."

There was no hesitation in his tone. No doubt in his voice, during no moment was Aaran ever entertaining the thought that he would not come out the winner of this bout. He did not even feel venomous or angry at the thought of taking her life. She had proven herself to be a rather psychotic individual. There would be few who would judge him for taking her life if it came to that.

Instead, he simply stood there and waited, giving Maestus this chance to flee, or re-join battle against the Warden of Peace who had finally decided to stop holding back.

Maestus

 

[Romi Jade]

The world felt like it was growing much much darker and heavier, as their encirclement grew tighter...

She looked to Viers, then to the women behind her engulfed in fear, then to Thalia Senn and Dagon Kaze -- All three were Padawan.

She thought of the Enclave, the destruction they'd bring fighting the horde off, was it worth it right now?

"Really? Well Knights we might have to take this one with us. Take her arms and legs if need be, she doesn't need those to be taken alive."

"Wait!" she called out.

She lowered her saber, quelling the scarlet fire with her thumb -- she dropped the weapon in the sand. "I surrender. I'll go with you..and you can tak--" As she looked over to the women they squirmed and cried in fear...begging for any alternative, but Jade's voice cut through it calmly "--take us. Don't worry. It's alright."

"We'd only be delaying the inevitable, and putting those who are already captured more at risk. You can take me and let the students go?"

Kyrel Ren
The Mongrel
Koleric
TK-818
Inferious

 

[The Messenger]

​

His voice cut through the ranks like a demonic growl, forcing it's way into thoughts of those around Romi Jade . Those of the Brotherhood knew of this voice for it was unmistakable, it was THE Voice. The Voice of the Maw's horrific mental command rippled through the Force, his connection to the Dark Side radiating with a immense chill that slowly vacated the area with the release of the psychic pressure. It was out of any raider's hands now, beyond the authority of the warlords for it was the will of the Heathen Priests aboard the Holy City. Their attention spelled doom for those who now would willingly surrender themselves to the servants of the Hidden Maw.

This act would spare Niima Outpost of further bloodshed for the moment as the raiders collected their trophies and wrangled slaves. Those who had yet to be snatched away were spared a momentary reprieve as the raiders fell silent in observation of what was transpiring before them. Although Niima Outpost had been bought time by the efforts of the brave Jedi, the rest of Jakku's nearby settlements were not so lucky. Cratertown had been engaged by the Chosen of Maestus as she battled the Jedi Aaran Tafo on the outskirts of the settlement. Chaos reigned in on other trading posts and signs of civilization as black smoke filled the sky over the sands.

The whip cracked down on the slaves within the graveyards of twisted metal and broken dreams, the Taskmaster Tu'teggacha and his minions had begun to unearth the remains of something truly special. Remnants of a Super Star Destroyer long buried and broken among the sands of Jakku.

​

 

[Alars Keto]

Clever lad, he had caught the image of Kryll emerging from the smoke in the knick of time with just enough forewarning to bring his body narrowly out of danger by the skin of his teeth. The boy dropped down to his knee and sprung upward catching the marauder by surprise, releasing his hold on the sword as the boy's lightsaber cut through the hilt of the blade. The sand blew beneath his feet as he skid back in disbelief, the master swordsman glared at his duelist infuriated. "That's my sword!"

His arms rose into position unafraid and filled with anger, he readied himself into a Teräs Käsi fighting stance ready to go to blows with the lightsaber wielder. At first glance this would seem suicide, but to the trained eye this was a man skilled in the arts of combating Jedi. A dangerous situation to be in for any as the very style itself was made to counter the efforts of one such as him, all he had to do was avoid that damn laser sword and the boy would be dead. He'd have his hands around his neck in no time.

Gesturing to the Warden of the Shroud to come closer, Kryll taunted his opponent. "Come on boy."


Calruss Shiman

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Jakku, Niima Outpost
Allies: Alars Keto , Kyrel Ren , Zachariel Steelblood, Inferious , TK-818 , Koleric , Gren Blidh
Enemies: Romi Jade , Viers Connory , Thalia Senn , Calruss Shiman, Dagon Kaze

Like weeds on... some other planet that actually had weeds, Jedi just kept cropping up. The Mongrel hissed in loathing and frustration as fresh duels broke out all around him, new laser-swords igniting to take on the Ren and their allies. But before he could decide where to intervene, his scattergun swinging back and forth between targets, a dark and oily blade of sound slipped into his mind. The power of the command drove The Mongrel to his knees; a trickle of blood ran from his nose, and his eyes rolled wildly in his head.

Bring them to me. Gone were any thoughts of plunder or glory or even hatred; there was only obedience left in the marauder's mind. On a distant world, the hidden colony beyond the known galaxy where he had been reborn, The Mongrel had been blessed by The Voice. Now he would recognize and obey its every word, no matter the distance, no matter the circumstance. Shakily he stood, brushing sand from his knees and blood from his leatheris jerkin, and slung his scattergun back over his shoulder. He wouldn't need it.

Though scattered fighting still raged between those who had not agreed to the Jedi's surrender - The Mongrel's lip curled as he saw the crimson-blade Calruss Shiman locked in battle with Alars Keto - the marauders were mostly beginning to withdraw from Niima Outpost. The loot and prisoners they had taken were being dragged back to the assault shuttles, which had moved in closer to the salvage camp now that most of its defenders were down. The Mongrel waved one closer, and it set down right at the outpost's edge.

The rusted, gore-spattered shuttle's loading ramp descended, and The Mongrel pointed at Romi Jade and then gestured up it. "The Dark One has called for you," he sneered, standing unafraid before the powerful warrior - she had proven easy to manipulate when innocent lives were on the line, unwilling to make the kind of sacrifices necessary to defeat a ruthless enemy. Many of these worthless scavengers would survive the day thanks to her, but what were their little existences worth compared to a Jedi Master? A foolish trade.

The Mongrel fell in behind the Jedi, escorting them up the ramp and into the shuttle's dark confines. Soon their weapons would be taken, their hands shackled, and their fate in the hands of The Voice. The marauder smiled nastily; he had seen these warriors in action, knew their skill and mighty magics, but he had faith that it would be the last time he ever saw them - at least, as sane enemies. Surely no one could survive the torments of the Holy City. They would either break and serve the Maw, or they would die. It was preordained.

They had their prize; time for a fighting withdrawal.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Jakku, Starship Graveyard
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Enemies: Open

Just as much as it was savage and violent, the Brotherhood of the Maw was hardy and resourceful. Like a mangy street dog, it could subsist on scraps and still grow strong, tearing at the flesh of anyone who tried to tame it or drive it away. But sometimes the dog found something better: a forgotten feast, left out in an alley. It gorged itself on the meal and grew even stronger, its wiry muscles becoming fully developed... and its taste for fresh meat only growing. When next its enemies came, it didn't bite their hands. It ripped out their throats.

Tu'teggacha had come to the Starship Graveyard expecting only scraps, though these were scraps of durasteel rather than meat. They would be enough to patch damaged craft, forge new weapons, and generally keep the hordes of marauders provisioned. But there had been a buried feast all along, and it had taken only a little extra digging to uncover it. The Ebruchi looked down at the dig site from his makeshift overseer's platform, halfway up the buried bulkhead of an ancient New Republic ship, and watched the labor crews unveiling his prize.

It must have been one of the first Imperial ships to be lost in the long-ago battle over Jakku, for it had been buried the deepest. Despite the force of the crash and the damage from the fighting, crushing bulkheads and exploding entire compartments, the Taskmaster could still make out the signature sharp lines of the long dagger shape the Empire had favored. This was a star destroyer, and not any ordinary one. It was one of the Imperial Navy's greatest weapons; it must have been a devastating loss, the last death scream of a falling Empire.

With a ship like that, no power in the surrounding five sectors could stand against the Maw.

Unearthing it, however, was no small feat. It was important to keep the remaining hulk as intact as possible, but it would still have to be lifted out in sections. Craft this huge were not meant to ever land on planets; they were built and maintained in orbit, where the torturous pull of gravity was not so severe. Already a small fleet of Brotherhood freighters and even frigates were descending to the graveyard, where slaves attached dozens, then hundreds of magnetic cables to the various parts of the wreck. Soon they would be lifted from the sands.

The great ship would certainly see action again, though perhaps not in any recognizable form, but it would take much time and effort. They would need to be gone from Jakku before then. Though the planet was a total backwater, it lay just on the edge of Galactic Alliance territory, and rumors swirled that it was petitioning the Alliance for membership. No doubt the day's brutal raid would encourage it to petition faster. Regardless, the Maw would swallow up what it desired and then be gone from this place, taking its new weapon along with it.

"Faster," the Ebruchi commanded, cracking his neuronic whip.

 

[Maestus]

What in the name of the Dark Side of the Force was going on here? The lightsaber should have slipped right through his skin, like a hot knife through butter. But....A welt?! Something was going on. And she needed to find out, before Aaran Tafo killed her. She truly enjoyed her current state of life, and intended to keep it that way.

She had precious little time to consider the possibilities, before he was once again blasting away at her. And boy, did his blows hurt! Each blow reverberated through her body. The rocket to her jaw caused her to drop to one knee after staggering back. Then came the space voodoo knocking her back even further. She actually had to shake her head to clear the dust.

She stood back up slowly. Thoughts raced through her mind. How easily Aaran was getting to her. How powerful his blows here. And his imperviousness to everything she tries. The rage welled up within her. Never had she been so ineffective. Not even as a child was she so weak. Her mind raced back to her childhood. Seeing her parents in chains, and hating them for the weakness. Now, it was her who was weak.

Her blood raged and roiled. She began to clear her mind of all but the anger and rage. Her lightsaber was still blazing, matching the red rimmed black eyes she glared at the Jedi with. Letting out a deep roar, not a silly high pitched scream, she reached deep within, calling on RAGE to bolster her. Unleashing it, she strode determinedly towards Aaran. Quickly but surely.

The last few meters she closed rapidly with Force driven Speed. And began a massive assault with her saber.
Overhand swings, side swings, jabs and a few punches thrown in for good measure.

No, Jedi. I shall not run. If I am to be defeated, then it shall be so. But I will not run like a beaten mongrel.

Now her on the aggressive offensive, she continued in assaulting him with saber and fists. Stepping into him, invading his personal space with no care.