The Campaign

Kyden drew his cloak about him with one hand, his other gripping his Brylark staff as he jabbed it into the sand by his feet. From beneath his hood, he peered out at Tatooine's twin suns. It had been a long time since he had visited a binary star system. He had not set foot on any planet other than Batuu for two years. Breathing deep, he took in the air and atmosphere of another world, then strode away from the freighter that had brought him here.

The buildings of Mos Eisley bore the same battle scars as those back in the markets of Batuu, though here those buildings were squat and with little distinction. Unlike the sprawling merchants' metropolises of his homeworld, the structures of Tatooine were a subtle but foreboding imperfection on the planet's surface. There was no thriving sense of community here. The Force did not swirl and swell about the inhabitants of Mos Eisley, Kyden noticed, but hung uneasily over the desert landscape; a buzzing, jittering energy, like a blanket of static electricity in the air. He would be cautious.

Ducking into a cantina, he lowered his hood and took a moment as his eyes adjusted from the desert glare to gloomy darkness. Patrons dressed in dusty cloaks and rags were huddled in booths and by the bar, their gruff tones filling the room. Over the murmur of their conversations, Kyden picked out the crackle of music from a hologram in the corner. Taking a moment to admire the recording, Kyden found himself wishing he had been here when the music was still performed live - though he had not been to Tatooine before, through the Force he could sense the memory and nostalgia that lingered about the hologram. The song at least made him feel at home, where he had heard it play countless times in Oga's Cantina. 'Mad About Me'. Kyden tried to remember how young he had been when he first heard the tune. How long had that same song been playing throughout the galaxy?

He took a seat by the bar, waiting for the barman. Glancing about himself, he noticed a man in a tattered Stormtrooper's uniform, hunched over his drink. He was unmasked, his helmet on the bar beside him, revealing ruffled white hair and a grizzled face that was missing an eye. The ex-trooper returned Kyden's stare.

"What you lookin' at?" he slurred.

Kyden just nodded and turned away. He was acutely aware of the holoprojector buckled to his thigh. His thoughts lingered on Princess Leia's message. Her next instruction could not come soon enough...

Ash stepped into a cantina on Mos Eisley. The putrid stench of alcohol, sweat and smoke stung her nostrils. She looked around the bar. There was such a mixture of people gathered here; young, old, alien, human, good, bad, those here for buisness and those for pleasure. Ash tightened her grip on her staff, holding it so it rested against her right shoulder, as she surveyed the room. The man cloaked in the corner, also with a staff, seemed on edge. Avoiding attention was a must, at least until she found out what to do next. She was unsure if she was meant to wait for someone to meet her, or receive a message somehow.

Silently making her way to the other side of the bar, Ash leaned against the stone pillar preparing for a long wait. Her eyes kept sweeping the patrons at the cantina, keeping vigilant and waiting for a sign.

Earlier, on the bridge of the Tyrannicide, in orbit above Tatooine.

Therros leaned against the control console, armed crossed, as he addressed the ad-hoc "officer's meeting." Uralaaf, Tirdila and a few of the droids were there as he explained what, exactly, the transmission had entailed.
Uralaaf, standing to the side, growled.

"Yeah, that's what I said: bugger all." Therros sighed "But it's the Princess. She likes her complex plans and she's very secretive. It's probably important."
"Probably, R3? You are going down there, alone, based on a 'probably?" This question came from the First Officer of the ship, OOM-274, who was directly elected to the position by his peers to ensure that their concerns, few as they were, were met. He was also the least quirky out of the lot.
"It's not like it's my first time on Tatooine, Oomie. I'll be fine-" A disbelieving noise from Tirdila cut Therros off.
"Look, that was one time! It won't happen aga-" another grunt from the Wookie, "I'll be more aware this time round, ok? Listen, after explaining that situation to the rescue clue I never want to have to do something like that again, and I still can't smell that type of cactus-nectar without feeling bad." Therros waved away the next remark to allow him to continue.
"It's all in the past. I'll go down, find out what she wants, and we'll go from there. Knowing the Princess, it might be for a long- dangerous mission. If that's the case, and I have to leave immediately, Oomie is in charge. If I'm not back in, uh, two days, then have a look at the mission dossiers and do a few runs, keep the credits coming in and don't get bored. I'll be fine."
Uralaaf frowned before posing a question in Shyriiwook.
"I'll take the communicator as well as the emergency locator, that's worked well before."
Another question.
"Yes, I'll go armed. Baton and pistol in the back holsters, hidden away. Probably take the D17 too, just in case. You get a bit less trouble in Mos Eisley if you're packing heat and everyone can see it."
A third question from the concerned Wookie.
"No, I won't need a packed lunch, but thank you. It's been a while since I've had Tatooine street meat, I kinda look forward to it again." With that, Therros straightened up and stretched,
"Right, any last questions? No? Ok then, I'll get my stuff ready and head on down. Oomie, take the bridge. See you in a few, everyone. May the Force be with you."


Later, in one of Mos Eisley's cantinas...

Therros pulled the shemagh scarf down from his face, where it had been shielding him from the sand blowing outside. As he made his way into the cantina he couldn't help but feel a tinge of nostalgia: he had been in this place before, and hundreds like it, back after the Clone Wars. While he didn't miss the grease, or the smells, or even most of the people, he did miss the atmosphere somewhat: tense, but also somewhat relaxed. Everyone in here was dangerous and everyone knew it, so nobody would cause too much trouble. Emphasis on the 'too much', of course.

Making his way to a free spot at the bar, next to an off-duty trooper, Therros caught the attention of the barkeeper and ordered a soft drink and the "Bantha Hot Special", the one thing he'd truly missed from Tatooine. It arrived swiftly: chunks of barbequed and spiced Bantha meat, skewered on a single stick, with globs of Bantha-milk cheese in between, soft and bubbly from the heat. His eyes watering as much as his mouth was due to the spices, Therros paid and tipped the Barkeeper, more out of appreciation of the food than for good service, and tore a chunk off the skewer. It was hot, spicy, greasy and full of flavour, just like he remembered it. Smiling contentedly, he turned around and leaned against the bar, so he could see the rest of the Cantina. Plenty of people, milling around, eating, drinking, talking, but two caught his eye: one surly-looking bloke in a corner, wrapped in a cloak and hood, seemingly deep in thought, and a blue-skinned alien person leaning against a pillar, staff in hand and eyes firmly on the watch.

Still unsure of who or what he'd be meeting or doing here, Therros decided that his best option was to keep watch. And, far more importantly, keep eating his Bantha Hot Special.

'Being part of the Senate certainly has its perks'. Marius thought as he leaned back in his chair. The view from his cabin was spectacular, he'd always enjoyed the calming blue glow and steady thrum of hyperspace. Lazily lifting his feet up onto his desk Marius' hand dove inside his tunic, seemingly searching for something. After a few moments of rummaging, patting down and the odd gruff mutter of displeasure Marius reached inside a pouch on his belt. He let out a sigh of relief as his hand found the familiar cylindrical shape of the metallic cigarra case.

Removing it from the pouch and inspecting it under the glow emanating from the cabin window Marius reached into his trouser pocket and brought the plasma lighter up to the Carababba cigarra he'd plucked from the case, gripping it in his teeth.

Attention, we are entering the Tatoo system. Dropping out of hyperspace. The intercom crackled.

With a dull thud and a whoosh from the hyperdrive the freighter lurched back into real space and the stars outside Marius' cabin swung back into view, revealing the binary stars of the Tatoo system. Marius flicked the igniter on the lighter, a low roar and blaze of blue flame sprouting from the top. He brought it to the cigarra, breathing in and out as the paper caught and smoke rose from the tip. Pocketing the lighter Marius took a deep drag on the cigarra. Nothing could beat that sickly smell that hung in the air and clung to every surface, especially on the pristine New Republic ships. Smoke up a cabin in a CR90 and you'll never get the smell out. “Serves those pompous stoopas right for trying to polish this bantha fodder of a situation.” Marius chuckled to himself, smoke billowing from his mouth and nostrils. Any slight against the 'New Republic' was a win in his books, a one up on Mon Mothma and her heel dragging apologists in the Senate.

Marius leaned back further, admiring the little amount of quiet he had left before landing. Tatooine was fast approaching through the window, the soft haze of desert sand reflecting the twin suns soon filling the view.

All passengers prepare for landing, remain seated and store all luggage as we make our descent. The intercom buzzed again.

Removing his feet from the desk Marius took another drag of the cigarra as the ship made its way through the atmosphere and down over the dunes below. He'd never visited Tatooine before. Why would he? Why would anyone for that matter? Just another backwater sarlacc pit under the squirming grasp of the Hutts. Loyal to no one but themselves they both served and fought the Republic, Imperial remnant and anyone in between. Anyone with a fistful of credits right?

The freighter sped over the rolling sea of sand, approaching the bustling expanse of Mos Eisley. With a final exhale of smoke Marius stubbed his cigarra on the desk, rose from the chair and slung his backpack over one shoulder. All he'd need for this important trip was messily stuffed inside. A cloud of smoke whooshed from the cabin as the doors slid open, causing a passing Ithorian to waft a leathery hand in front of its face, one of its two mouths flexing in disgust. “Must be a bad motivator.” Marius said with a shrug to the Ithorian. The alien's eyes narrowed as it made its way down the corridor to the loading bay, a throng of people already gathering to disembark.

Touching down. Thank you for using Star Tours and enjoy your stay on sunny Tatooine. The Captain's voice rang again through the ship's intercom.

As Marius approached the doors opened and ramps slid forwards onto the sandy floor of the docking bay, the intense heat of the planet rushing in. His duster billowed in the harsh wind as Marius made his way through the crowds and onto the sandstone landing pad. It was a good idea to wear this instead of his cape, being slightly less conspicuous in the brown leather compared to his usual deep blue. People cut hurriedly through the dust kicked up by the freighter's landing, dissipating to shadows as the haze engulfed them. 'Okay.' Marius thought. 'The princess set the rendezvous at Chalmun's cantina. Shouldn't be too far. A short walk across Kerner Plaza from docking bay 94 according to her message.'

Speeders zoomed overhead, the sound almost drowned out by the hustle and bustle of Mos Eisley's market lined streets. The smells, the sights, the sounds, all bombarded the senses. It was glorious in its own way, if you could ignore the glaring layer of criminal intent that clung to every corner of the packed plaza. Not wanting to waste any time Marius quick marched towards the cantina, his hands firmly rooted in the pockets of the duster coat that hung loosely over his tunic, protecting it from Tatooine's harsh dust and sand.

The door made a rusted scrape as it opened into the busy cantina. The darkness and smoke made it hard to see as Marius squinted through the gloom, his eyes adjusting from the twin suns outside. Grabbing another cigarra from its case and tapping it down on his wrist Marius made his way to the bar, its patrons oblivious to anything past their next puff of spice or swig of booze. Pulling up a pew he motioned to the bartender, popping the cigarra in his mouth and lighting it as the man made his way over. Ordering a drink he caught the faint tones of Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes from one of the many holoprojectors dotted around the bar.

Marius took a puff of his cigarra as the song faded. “Hey!” Shouted one of the patrons, a dishevelled man in dusty rags. “Play that same song!” He bellowed. “Pipe down you scruffy nerf herding scum.” Shouted another. “Suck the Emperor's toe, buckethead.” The man replied to a round of laughter from the other bar flies. Marius' ears pricked up.

Buckethead.

His eyes darted across the room, scanning every stool, every booth. Finally they landed on a white haired man, his face marked and gnarled, with the all too familiar uniform of a Stormtrooper clinging to his body. While tattered and weather worn it still stuck out amongst the bar. The man, seemingly defeated by the insult, quickly slammed down his drink and made a move to exit the bar. If Marius knew Stormtroopers he'd be back, and in greater numbers. He couldn't risk drawing the attention attacking an ex-Imperial would raise, especially if it would jeopardise his meeting with the Princess.

Marius took another drag of the cigarra as the bartender placed his drink down in front of him. He'd have to be content with the welcome party the Stormtrooper would return with. After all, it wouldn't be a bad thing to have his new companions on side before the fodder hit the turbine...

Therros choked a bit at the stormtrooper's declaration, a chunk of meat halfway in his mouth. After coughing a fit and, eventually, swallowing, he took a second to assess the situation: The troopers were sweeping the area but not particularly focused on him. Excellent.

He slowly raised a glass of liquid that had been left behind him on the bar. The troopers guns swung immediately onto him.
"Easy buddies, easy. I'm no threat, I'm just raising a toast to the restoration of Law and Order in this feckless hive of scum and villainy. To the New Tatooine Regiment!" With that, he necked the drink: a bad decision as it was a Coruscanti Eyeburner, a extremely spicy and somewhat strong drink. His eyes watering, he made out the troopers lower their rifles somewhat, as the rest of the cantina stayed silent.
"What, you guys aren't gonna join me?" Therros said, slowly reaching for a bottle on the bar, making his movements clear. He poured a shot into the glass.
"Go on, I inSIST!" With that, he used the Force to fling the full glass across the Cantina, aiming for the Captain's good eye. Therros flung himself backwards, behind the bar, throwing two heavy bottles of liquid at the troopers with the Force again. He fell ungracefully to the floor, covered by the thick stone bar, detached his rifle from his thigh and slammed a clip into the side of it.

Kyden froze as the Stormtroopers entered the bar. His eyes flicked momentarily to his Brylark staff, resting against the bar beside him. The runic symbols carved into the wood and into the metal of the rounded cap atop the staff caught his attention, reminding him of his teachings and the ways of the Acolytes of the Whills.

He could feel the terror, the anger, the bloodlust in the room. Every Stormtrooper's trigger finger was starting to itch, while various patrons were slowly slipping their hands towards their blasters.

Kyden took a breath, calmed himself and sought the call of the Force. Agression and conflict were never to be the first course of action...

At the same moment this thought crossed Kyden's mind, a man stood just down the bar from him sent a glass flying into the Stormtrooper Captain's face. Two bottles followed, crashing into the Stormtroopers at his side. So much for the peaceful approach. But did he just use the Force?

Blaster fire followed - a furious, frenzied barrage. At first it came from the Stormtroopers and then half the cantina was joining in. Kyden followed the attacker's example and jumped the bar, swinging his staff over with him. He landed crouched beside the man, who was loading his rifle. Kyden looked him up and down. Who was this mystery Force user? Perhaps introductions were in order...

"Hello there."

Ash rolled her eyes. For fuck's sake. People can't even go into a bar now without the risk of these walking, talking, robot snowmen coming in and murdering people. Looking around the room, there was a mixture of facial expressions; boredom, drunk, suspicion, fear and...*a drunken fool throws a bottle at a Stormtrooper*....stupidity. Well, at least he was throwing the Coruscanti Eyeburner stuff, because that stuff was nasty.

As blasters started going off, the cloaked man from the corner jumped up and flung himself over the bar. Really? He decided to trap himself behind the bar? Ash couldn't help but snicker. First rule of entering a new environment? Locate your exits and put yourself next to one. And with that thought, Ash quickly stepped to the right of the pillar and left through the back door.

Outside people were screaming as chaos broke out and blasters firing could be heard from all around. Keeping low to the ground Ash started the make her way to Docking Bay 63. Hopefully nothing would get in her way. And if they did, they would be left with some nasty injuries....if they were lucky.

With the cloaked man's greeting, Therros reacted on instinct.
Unfortuntley, a small explosion outside cut off most of his words:
"-BOOOMenobi!"
He shook his head slightly to clear it, not knowing why he said that. The blaster fire was dying down somewhat in the cantina, from "rapid-everyone-shooting-at-everyone" to "potshots" and "I'm-hiding-behind-this-table-and-occasionally-poking-my-blaster-above-it-to-show-spirit". A few stray shots impacted on the shelves above the bar.
"The name's, uh, Hieron." Therros said to the newcomer. He was caught out by two things: first off, having to come up with a fake name on the fly and secondly, he had spotted the strangely familiar runes on the edge of the wooden staff wielded by this person.
"I guess introductions can properly happen once we deal with the troopers. Here-" With that, he reached into his hidden holster, drew his pistol and offered it to the other man.

Kyden raised a hand and shook his head at the offer of a blaster.

"No, thank you, Hieron." If that is your real name. Nothing was easier to sense than an honest man's lie. Not that it mattered right now. 'Hieron' was right about one thing - introductions could wait until this conflict was over. "Weapons are a distraction."

Kyden looked down to his staff, then back to his new ally. "It's a focusing totem. A meditation aid."

There was a deafening crash of blaster fire and one of the bar's Aqualish patrons was hurled over the bar, landing beside the two men. The Aqualish snatched up his own blaster, which had dropped from his hand as he landed, and took aim at the two of them. In one swift motion, Kyden's staff came crashing down on his head, knocking him out.

Kyden turned back to 'Hieron'.

"Mostly," he added. "Now come on."

Staying crouched, Kyden led the way down the length of the bar. At the far end, it opened onto a back room. As Kyden entered the room, he straightened himself up and stood with his back to the wall. Stormtroopers hadn't made it in here yet. This could be their route out of the cantina.

“We claim Mos Eisley for the New Tatooine Regiment!”

The bar erupted into an exchange of blaster fire. The absolute shock and awe of the Imperial's assault had caught Marius off guard. Falling back off his bar stool he landed to the ground with a thump and scrambled behind the cover of the bar. “Ahh Sithspit!” Marius exclaimed, the sounds of blasters firing and impacting on the sandstone drowning out his words. Clutching his still lit cigarra in his teeth Marius peeked round the corner of the bar. “Caught with your wits elsewhere again old man.” He breathed as he surveyed the scene.

The troopers were in good cover near the entrance and while they didn't exactly outnumber the patrons it was currently a free for all. Suddenly a glass smashed against the lead trooper, dousing him in booze as two more bottles were flung towards the squad. Each of the troopers recoiled as the bottles smashed against their armour, the contents splashing over them. There was a slight lull in the blaster fire as the troopers repositioned, allowing a man in flowing robes to leap over the bar and out of sight. An explosion outside momentarily caught Marius' attention as the sound of the Tie Fighter screaming over head followed, echoing off the walls. The cantina was a death trap, the longer they stayed the less chance there was of getting out alive.

With a grunt of frustration and effort, Marius stood up from behind the bar, cigarra in hand. This was either a really good idea or a damn stupid one. “Hey bucketheads, light's out.” Marius said, instantly regretting that particular part of the plan. He flicked the cigarra, each of the troopers diving for cover as the smouldering butt sailed through the air towards the now very flammable imperials. The bar fell silent as everyone ducked for cover. Marius shut his eyes, ready for the flash of an explosion, fire, anything.

Nothing happened.

A few perplexed faces peaked around blaster burnt furniture and pillars. Marius opened an eye cautiously to see the embers flickering on the floor, a few feet to the right of the puddle of Coruscanti Eyeburner.

Sighing, he grasped his blaster pistol from its holster, shooting from the hip at the puddle.

The room lit up.

Before the three Stormtroopers could react the flames engulfed them, a bright purple that danced through blue and red hues. Strong Spice infused drinks were infamous amongst the Rebel Alliance as excellent tools to use against Imperial troops, provided you had a rag and some fire or a good blaster at your side. As two of the troopers screamed and writhed, their armour doing little to fend off the fire, the third threw off his cloak, flames spitting and billowing from the ruined material.

“You rebel scum!” The leader roared. He stepped through the fire and smoke, ignoring his comrades pleas, unhooking a baton from his belt and flicking it to extended position. As he broke into a run the baton's shaft crackled with electricity. Marius fired twice before the Imperial reached him, both shots zipping past as the man ducked and weaved. He brought the baton down hard on Marius' blaster forearm, electricity branching across his skin, causing him to wince in pain and drop the pistol to the ground. Marius stumbled back and fell to the ground, the trooper still advancing on him as he scrambled back.

Many of the patrons who had been involved in the firefight were fleeing the scene, barging past the other three Stormtroopers who had entered through the back. They'd soon have a clear shot and Leia's recruits would be left alone to face them.

Therros began following his new ally, holstering his pistol, when a pithy one-liner caught his ears. Turning around before leaving the cantina, he witnessed the cigarra arc through the air... for nothing. He winced somewhat, as it had been an excellent line and it was a shame to waste it-
The actual explosion singed his eyebrows and caught him by surprise, knocking him somewhat off his feet. Once he'd collected himself, he scrambled up, tugged on the robe of the staff-man to get his attention and gestured back towards the flames, where the cigarra thrower was being charged by the Stormtrooper captain, and where three other troopers had just entered.

Therros broke into a sprint towards the captain, but as he ran he fired a quick burst from his rifle at the new troopers. The burst went wild, not hitting anyone, but it still sent the three ducking into cover. With that, Therros focused and, nearing the now-prone thrower and his opponent, he slid his rifle along the ground towards his newest ally (for anyone going toe-to-toe with the troopers is an ally, right now). At the same time, with his other hand, Therros reached around his back and drew his own baton. He slid to a halt in front the captain, deftly blocking his downward swing.

"Hey, buddy, think you could beat me?" he said, desperately wracking his brains. It wasn't the upcoming combat that worried him more than trying to match the excellent "Light's out" line. Something stirred in his mind;
"Well I wouldn't baton it."

The whole cantina fell silent for a few seconds, except for the sounds of gunfire, flames, and the gurgling screams of the burning troopers. The silence was judgemental, as if everyone who'd heard that terrible line just could not comprehend that someone was stupid enough to say it. Even the Captain winced at it. His face had a large gash beneath his good eye and was bleeding, leaving a large smear of blood over his cheek. Therros was pleased with his aim, although his target had been the eye itself. The Captain swiftly got over the pain of the terrible pun when he realised who he was facing.
"You! You're the womp-rat who threw the glass! I'll have your head!"
"Guilty as charge-ohshit" Therros barely had enough time to parry the blow, stopping him from continuing to taunt the captain. Swinging widely, he drove the trooper back a few paces, giving him the breathing space he needed to take the opening stance he had been taught many, many years ago: feet apart a comfortable distance, both hands firmly gripping the hilt, body angled to both attack and defend. While Form I was the most basic out of the ancient Lightsabre styles, it was one of the most versatile and when practices by a master truly something to witness. Therros, while not a master, was still confident in the movements, and going up against the captain proved to be of little difficulty. Therros kept pushing forward, moving away from the ciggara-thrower, never giving the captain a chance to gain the intiative. He landed a few good blows on the imperial that would've ended the fight had he had a lightsabre, but, alas, a polymer baton does not have quite the same effect as a blade of plasma.
...duck...
Being force-sensitive often entails a slight sense of precognition or enhanced awareness. In this case, Therros ducked due to a sudden bad feeling. It was proven right as a short vibro-blade, hidden in the captains gauntlet, slashed at the place where his neck had been but a few moments ago.
"Oh, so we're cheating and using surprise weapons then?" exclaimed Therros as he straightened up.
"My turn." With that, he shoved an open palm forwards and, with a blast from the Force, sent the Captain skidding backwards into a table. Despite the surprise and strength of the blow, the trooper managed to remain on his feet, glaring at Therros. There was now a space of a few metres between them. The captain bellowed, as if about to charge back into the fray. Therros returned to the guard position, ready for what came.

Vangar slipped quietly through Mos Eisleys empty back alleys, pulling the deep hood of his cloak tight against the desert wind. He crept past burnt out dwellings and boarded up shop fronts-it always paid to blend into the shadows on Tattooine, and Vangar knew these shadows well. The princess’s holo-message had indicated a rendezvous at a nearby cantina. He still had no idea what the princess or her now obsolete rebellion wanted with a lizard of his talents, but where princesses were concerned the money was usually good.

As he neared the cantina-head swimming with visions of regal vaults stacked high with cred chips-the communicator crackled into life again, some sort of rewired assassin droid issuing a new meeting point. Vangar hunkered down beside a garbage chute to program the new location into his tracking device. From somewhere behind him a powerful explosion shattered the relaxed hubbub of the market streets. All around Vangar heard the crackled radio transmission like barking of several storm troopers, backed up by the shriek of a TIE fighter over head. This area of the desert city-of-sin was heating up, and for Vangar at least the sand was getting a little hot underfoot.

He bolted from the garbage chute, heading back the way he had come when -THWACK- he bounced backward off the hard polycoated armour of one of the emperors finest. Raising himself up to his full height he hissed menacingly. The trooper seemed unfazed, and Vangar found the barrel of a blaster rifle shoved threateningly under his chin. One clawed hand darted swiftly into a fold of his robes, and he activated a small bundle of wires and aerials concealed there. Bright neon Tibana gas vented from the loading mechanism of the rifle, filling the alley and obscuring vision. Moving with the speed of match smoke in a strong wind Vangar grabbed for the malfunctioning rifle-cracking it repeatedly into the visor of the startled trooper. The glossy veneer of the helm cracked, snow white shards of plasteel littering the sand as the clone soldier dropped to the floor.

He was all set to melt back into the shadows and make for the hangar bay the IG unit had indicated when raised voices and the sounds of battle made him pause. On the opposite side of the road smoke and fire billowed from the doors of a Cantina, combative grunts and shouts echoing from inside. “Where there’s smoke there’s rebel scum, know what I mean?” Vangar ribbed to the unconscious bucket head at his feet. He crouched beside the prone figure and rifled through its utility belt, snatching up two spare clips for the-now bent and twisted-rifle and an imperial issue grappling hook.

Tinkering as he went Vangar made short work of the clips outer casings, exposing the gas canisters within. To each he fitted a small overload chip which started blinking ominously. Tibana gas, though lethal when plasmolysed, was generally inert in its natural state...unless a significant current passed through it causing it to become an airborne super conductor.

This last detail was unknown to the remaining troopers inside the Cantina, and so as the canisters sailed through the door spraying their thick gaseous payload the soldiers simply chuckled and flipped settings on their helmets to regulate airflow and provide IR feeds in their visors. Then the overloads detonated sending arcs of lightning through the clouds-coiling around limbs, blistering skin and frying circuitry. Three troopers sank to their knees writhing in pain before clattering to the floor, unmoving save for tendrils of smoke escaping their imposing white shells.

Once the electrified gasses had dispersed Vangar stepped through the doorway, silhouetted against the sunlight, and surveyed the situation of carnage inside. Fire had blackened the walls and ceiling, and several storm troopers lay dead. By the bar one particularly grizzled looking imperial remained, going toe to toe with a figure in flowing robes wielding...a stick? Cocking an eye quizzically Vangar sent one of his ceremonial daggers flying. It circled through the air whistling as it raced end over end before sinking with a wet thud between the troopers shoulders. He sank to his knees, choking up blood, surprise deep in his one good eye.

Kyden watched as the bad liar - and apparently worse comedian - ran back into battle with the Stormtroopers. Something else had caught Kyden's eye. A blue-skinned Yaephra had slipped out of the cantina as soon as the chaos had erupted. He had sensed her then, just as she left, and he had caught a glimpse of her now through a window at the back of the cantina. Fleeing unnoticed through streets filled with Stormtroopers. Impressive. And... maybe a coincidence... but was she heading in the direction of Docking Bay 63?

Kyden felt the Force push before he saw its effect. Turning, he saw the baton-wielding man with his hand outstretched and the Stormtrooper Captain looking even more dishevelled and even more enraged. Whoever this Force user was - whose use of the Force felt as blunt and graceless as was typical of the old Jedi Order - Kyden needed answers. He drew breath and readied himself to charge back into the fray to aid his fellow enemies of the Imperialists.

It was at this moment that three Stormtroopers were engulfed in smoke, electrocuted, and then a tall, skinny Barabel walked into the bar and threw a knife into the Captain's eye. Through the Force, Kyden saw many things. But there were some things he would never predict.

The instant he stepped out from the corner where he had taken shelter, Kyden found himself on the wrong end of a Stormtrooper's blaster.

"Hold it, hermit!" barked the 'trooper. Another appeared at Kyden's side, blaster ready.

"There is no self," Kyden whispered to himself. "There is only the Force."

He closed his eyes. A movement that did not come from him flowed through his body. He swung his staff in a swirling circular motion, knocking the blasters from the Stormtroopers' grip, as he slid back a step to avoid the shot fired off by the one at his side. His staff connected with one Stormtrooper and directed a sudden rush within the Force through the Stormtooper's body, dropping him to the ground - unconscious.

The other stood stunned and staring. Kyden opened his eyes and raised a hand before the Stormtrooper's face, as if performing the familiar old Jedi mind trick - but this was no cheap trick.

"I know there is good in you," said Kyden. "You are one with the Force. Feel it. Feel its yearning for harmony, for balance, for peace."

Something the simple-minded Stormtrooper could not possibly comprehend shifted deep within his being. His shoulders slumped and he stepped aside.

"Go," he muttered. "Get out of here. Go!"

Kyden walked past to join the others in the front of the cantina.

"You know," he said, jumping over the bar and landing in what was either blood, alcohol, or a mixture of the two, "a droid was once telling me a joke that began 'A lizard, a Force-sensitive and a Rebel walked into a bar with a company of Stormtroopers...' She short-circuited before she could get any further. So nice to find out how it ended." Kyden observed the carnage. "Can't say I get it. My name is Kyden Nhulsoon and I would say fate has put us on the same side. Now, there are more Stormtroopers out there. We have two options - travel separately for the sake of stealth, or... strength in numbers."

He held his staff upright and his gaze flicked between his three new allies, a wry grin on his face.

It all happened so fast that Marius was left slightly ashamed he hadn't done more to help when the fighting finally halted. Rising to his feet, Marius shook the feeling back into his hand as the numbness from the shock baton's hit subsided. "Marius." He said, looking his new companions up and down. "Thanks for the assist. Didn't think that moof-milker had it in him." He stooped down and retireved his blaster from the floor, wiping what he hoped were the remenants of the Coruscanti Eyeburner off onto his duster before holstering it.

"Kyden's right. We need to move and from what I've just seen we sure as hell need to stick together." Marius said. "But I don't like our odds with that Tie still out there. Even if we get to the ship it'll blow us out of the sky unless..." He gave a hopeful look towards the resourceful Barabel.

"You got any ideas?"

Vangar stared at the motley crew assembled before him, a slow smile splitting across his face as the smoke cleared. On Barab I force sensitives were revered as akin to gods, and here he was face to face with two, both as low down and dirty as him-so much for the unscrupulous might of the Jedi order! “This one assumes we’re all here at the request of a certain rebel princess then?” He hissed, as non threateningly as he could. “If we stay low, and stick to the back alleys, I think we can cut across the city without having to fight through an entire bucket head battalion” Vangar turned to move out, tossing the second overloaded Tibana clip to Kyden as he did so “As for the TIE fighter, I think I can help-as long as the force is with your throwing arm” Kneeling down he pulled the bone hilt of his dagger from the storm trooper, and gazed around at his newfound companions. He’d been part of a crew once before, but that was a long time ago, and far away. The galaxy had changed much since then. Was he ready to rely on a team again? Was this the team? Such questions would have to wait. For now the Human was right-safety, and strength, in numbers.

Kyden caught the Tibana clip with instinctive ease. "I don't bend the Force to my will, like the arrogant Council Masters of the last Republic," he told Vangar. "But, luckily for us, the Force naturally rejects the violence and chaos these Imperial throwbacks spread. I just channel its will."
Dropping the clip into a pouch on his hip, Kyden pulled his hood back up. He crossed the room to the same back door the Yaephra had taken and looked over the street outside, before turning back to the others.
"They'll be watching the front," he said. "This will be safer. And, assuming we are all here on the same summons, we should be able to make most of the journey without leaving the backstreets. Still, be on your guard. These days there's no knowing how many Stormtroopers these patchwork legions will have pulled together, but I doubt we'll get a totally clear run. Go as one with the Force." As he gave the group this common bidding of the Acolytes of the Whills, his face grew stern. Then he turned, staff at the ready, and led the way into the backstreets of Mos Eisley.

Therros holstered his baton, not giving the crumpled corpse of the captain a second glance. He picked up his blaster rifle, checked it once over, and listened to his newfound companions, nodding along.
"Uh, I should also say my name isn't Hieron. It's Therros. Therros Alric, Captain of the Tyrannicide. Which is currently sitting comfortably in orbit. If there's a ship waiting for us at Docking Bay 63 rather than a tea party, we'll escape on that. The TIEs might be a problem in atmosphere but once we hit space I'll get the Tyrannicide to provide us with some cover. There's bugger all they can do until then though, all we've got in the hanger is a small, old shuttle. Wouldn't last a minute against a single TIE, and I'm gonna assume that these bastards have more than that. They always do- hey, wait!"
He was halfway through his words when Kyden headed off. Therros moved after him. Force-users stick together, after all, even if this guy did have a bantha-sized chip on his shoulder about the Jedi.

Blaster fire tore through the air outside the cantina. The commuters, locals and loiterers that populated the spaceport were either taking cover or letting loose with retaliatory fire - this was exactly the moment so many of Mos Eisley's inhabitants had been waiting for.

Kyden led the way into the fray, running from the cantina to take cover behind a stack of crates that had been piled at the back entrance to a store. He waited a moment until he sensed the coast was clear (or as close as they were going to get, given the circumstances). Looking back to the others, he nodded the direction of their route ahead.

Staying crouched, he ran down the alley that ran between the cantina and the surrounding buildings. One short, clear, straight stretch. Then a corner. Too much noise was coming from beyond it, too many Stormtroopers to avoid. Kyden drew breath. Then he stepped around the corner and threw his staff in the same instant. It spun through the air, connecting with the first Stormtrooper before he had even seen what was coming. The staff ricocheted, propelled by the Force, bouncing from one Stormtrooper to the next as they turned to open fire. Kyden remained still, his attack knocking down each Stormtrooper before they could land a shot, a hail of clumsy blaster fire flying past him. He caught the staff as it returned to him.

As he reached the far end of the stretch of path, Kyden noticed one Stormtrooper groggily trying to get back to his feet. He planted the base of the Brylark staff at the Stormtrooper's throat.

"Be smart. Stay down." Again, he turned back to the others. "Come on. We're going to have to get out into the open to cross the main street just up ahead. Be ready for a bloodbath."

Marius followed the rest of the rag tag team out of the cantina with Kyden leading the way. Blaster fire zipped and buzzed past them as they made their way across a street and down an alley. An entire squad of Stormtroopers blocked the path but before Marius could react the troopers were swiftly taken out by the staff wielding mad man. "Come on. We're going to have to get out into the open to cross the main street just up ahead. Be ready for a bloodbath." Kyden shouted over the whizzing pulses of blaster fire. Up ahead the alley opened up on to a wide open street that held a wealth of market stalls, behind which most of the owners and patrons were taking shots at the Imperial troops advancing towards them. Why the Empire wanted this worthless rock was beyond Marius but the Imps were out in force alright.

The group approached the exit of the alley, assembling behind the sandstone wall of a shop leading on to the main street. The residents of Mos Eisley were putting up a tough fight and it was still unclear who would come out on top. If the Empire took Mos Eisley it'd be a foothold into the outer-rim for the remnant but this message from the princess had to take priority. Whatever Leia had for them had got to be worth the risk.

As Marius peeked round the corner of the building he could see the Stormtroopers pinned down up the street, blaster rounds exploding around them. The civilians had the troopers outnumbered, some plucky, if extremely foolish, members of the mob even rushing towards them to be one of the few to kill an Imperial or two. Over the shouting, blasting and chaos of the battle there began a low roar, growing louder and louder as it approached.

“Karabast!” Yelled one of the civilians. “Run! That TIE's coming back!” All of a sudden the battle changed, the residents running for cover as the roaring sound rang through the street, the unmistakable sound of the TIE fighter sending a chill down Marius' spine. The street erupted in blast after blast of green laser fire, dust and molten sand spraying from the craters they created. The TIE sped overhead as it finished its strafing run. Back up the street the Stormtroopers were starting to slowly advance from their position, taking the occasional pot shot at the now demoralised civilians.

“Our blasters are worth as much as the Emperor's spit against that TIE, and that's if we could even hit it.” Marius sighed, watching the TIE level out then turn around for another pass at the high street. “Now would be a real good time for some of that space wizard nonsense.” He smirked.

Kyden nodded at Marius' remarks. He retrieved the Tibana clip from the pouch on his leg and looked from it to Vangar.

"This better work, Scales."

Kyden steadied himself as he turned to face the high street. He was one with the Force and would feel no fear, he told himself... He just struggled to believe it while looking at a TIE fighter and listening to the deafening roar of its engines.

"Assuming this works, the second that fighter is out of action, you all need to get across this street and into that alley opposite as quickly as possible. Have each others' backs. Weapons at the ready."

With that, Kyden ran. He dropped to dodge incoming blaster fire, rolling out into the middle of the street, where he stood before the the thunder of the attacking TIE. Its twin laser blasts were approaching, throwing sand and debris into the air before him.

Kyden threw the clip.

As it connected with the fighter, he leapt aside, landing in the tattered remains of a battered trading stall. He kept low, stuck to his cover and listened.

Now to see if Vangar had delivered...

The tibana clip sailed through the air and latched onto the fighters hull with a dull thunk. Its flight took mere seconds, but time seemed to slow through the perception of the force. Gently and imperceptibly the strings of the universe were pulled and interwoven, and bent towards Kydens will. As the Clip connected with the TIE fighter the very air seemed to lose some kind of tension and exhale.

In the short, wary silence that followed the canister detonated, arcing bolts of electricity and streams of gas across the viewports of the ship. Various circuits and panels on and within the TIE were illuminated by flickering bolts of energy. With a pained whine one engine cut out and the fighter began to fall dead through the air-towards Kyden and the others in the street.

As he saw the clip sail through the air, Vangar for the first time in his life felt the presence of the force. He may not have understood at the time but the energies he felt that day were the same as in his Barabel myths and legends, and he found himself gazing at his companions with newfound respect. He was momentarily stunned, and it was only the juddering whine of the engines that snapped him back to reality.

Shaking off his reverie and tearing his gaze from the sky Vangar began to sprint, sliding or ducking behind cover where he could. His daggers were of no use at this range, and he was out of tricks - for now. He was trying to move fast and low, darting from upturned stall to bantha corpse, but it was a wide street and nearly deserted. Two stray blasts from a particularly keen eyed trooper sank into the scaly flesh of vangars thigh. The plasma sizzled, cracking scales and blistering the skin underneath. The lizard hissed furiously in pain, stumbling and falling before dragging himself across the sand to rest in the shade of a burning store front.

With his back to the wall, panting and hissing in pain, the artificer turned his attention to the street, and the others in their rag tag band. Several storm troopers were advancing down the street on them and more were setting up barricades and mounted guns behind. More pressing however was the shrieking death wail from above. The TIE fighters last engine howled as it span out of control, spiralling chaotically down towards the assembled rebels to be. It would be only a few seconds until the fighter impacted the surface in an explosion of Metallica shrapnel and fire.

The panicked screams of civilian caused such heartache in Ash. There will always be people like this across this universe, those who like to cause pain in others. They needed people, someone who cares enough to stand up and fight back.

Enough was enough. This band of misfits would need her. It's time to official join to group. From her position in the shadowed alley way where she had dived for cover, she could see the robed Force user throw something in the air and it seemed to disable the TIE. It not longer looked like a deadly sky predator, on the prowl to deliver death, but now it falling like a bird with a broken wing. Unfortunately, it's final destination was going to cause many to get hurt. She had to do something.

Hearing a shuffling noise to her right, she saw a lizard creature dragging himself towards cover. He was with the others before. Oh shit, he's hurt. Running across to where he was, she lent forward and stuck her hand in his line of vision. His eyes looked up at her. "Come on. We'll never catch up with them if you're laying here looking like road-kill. Or are you going to let a girl kill more storm troopers than you?" She said with a smirk. She pushed her hand a little closer to him. "I'm Ash."