A dog, a Jedi, and a mad scientist walked into a bar…
It really was the start to a bad joke, and Draca had to shake his head at the irony. Jedha had to be the planet with the absolute worst luck as long as you didn’t count Alderaan. Ever since the Death Star attacked, the planet has been subject to thieves, scavengers, and all manner of criminal organisations looking to take advantage of the tragedy that had befallen the once Holy City.
Now it had the most unlikely trio this side of the galaxy to contend with. Go figure.
Draca glanced to his two companions for this endeavour. Archian was a Shistavanen who had distinct knowledge on their quarry, a set of Fenner Rocks being distributed to the surrounding worlds, disrupting their eco systems. There really wasn’t a low deep enough to be stooped too for the needy and desperate. Draca just hoped this would be simple enough to deal with.
Then there was the ‘Mad Scientist’ himself, Hector Von Ricmore. Anders had refused to work with him for whatever reason. Draca simply chalked it up to their fight in the tournament, but somehow, he suspected there was more to it. The Jedi had worked with Hector before on one occasion for the Envoy Corps, but the Kiffar seemed distant from him.
Draca didn’t have time to mull this over as Archian pushed forward into the ‘The Wasted Woof’, a bar that had been erected at the edge of the Jedha crater.
As soon as the trio entered, the noxious stench of alcohol attacked their sense of smell. The dim light illuminated the large room. The local band stopped playing and every face inside seemed to eye the new arrivals warily.
Being the natural diplomat he was, Draca took point on introductions.
“Hello there,” He greeted. “We’re just here on business, right, guys?”
Everyone was staring at the newcomers trio. Also there was no reply to the “main voice” of the group, as Draca’s words sank between the silence in the tavern.
It was embarrassing enough that they were gazing all over them, making Archian feel like Borcatu who entered and tried to mix with a group of Womp Rats, which usually meant death on either side - they didn’t want this outcome.
Hector passed both of them, making Archian’s scars at his wrists and ankles itching. He still felt lose battle against the Vizsla member and stayed in Arena’s Hospital for two weeks treating himself and his almost dead Porg.
Kiffar sat at the bar and with a loud bang hit the flat counter in front of him with his fist.
“Two shots and the bowl.” He announced with a raised voice to the bartender. Male Zabrak who worked behind the wooden surface, who also most probably was the owner of the place just stared at him with strange looking reddish eyes.
“Maybe a drip of Bantha’s milk as well?” He replied ironically. “Go away. We do not serve the weak here.”
“Bigger. Stronger. Deeper.” Red pushed through a few guests who tried to separate Shistavanen and Jedi Zabrak from Kiffar. “Who am I? A fuck toy for you?” Bartender asked, a bit confused, growing with a note of anger in his voice, while Draca joined the other two and sat next to them. “No weakness you said, so biggest glasses, the same with a bowl but deeper and the strongest alcohol you have.” Archian’s eyes didn’t hesitate upon Zabrak’s gaze, supported by own ally from the same race who inside himself had a bad feeling about all of this conversation. “You won’t get please from me, as you said weak is not served here.” And that made the Zabrak laughing, followed by the rest of the tavern.
“You’re a Child of Mortis. I kill Children of Mortis.” Hector rumbled, his tone gruff with anger.
A bar patron reached for his blaster. With a wave of his hand the Kiffar sent the glasses on the countertop into the man’s face, shattering them and hurling him to the ground.
The Dark Jedi glanced at his companions. “What are you waiting for? Kill them all.”
It could never be simple, could it?
Of course it couldn’t. Not when the Children of Mortis were involved. Draca knew that first-hand. They were vicious, ruthless, merciless, as evidenced by the large group of patrons that drew upon them with their weapons.
Draca had heard the telepathic statement, though Hector had acted before he could give a response.
The first disgruntled patron, a large, burly Human male, attempted to grab Draca from behind and pin his arms behind his back. He was successful, but only because the young Jedi let him. When the second, a Rodian, attempted to stab him with one of the Children of Mortis daggers, he spun out of the large Human’s grip. He put tbe larger man in the Rodian’s path, who nearly stabbed him with the corrupted blade.
“Hey, watch it!” The Human growled, getting an earful from the Rodian in what Draca assumed was Huttese.
With the Force, Draca separated the two of them, sending the Human flying to towards Archian as the Rodian soared towards Hector.
The distinct snap of lightsabers from behind Draca caught his attention. He grabbed hold of his weapons and activated them in tandem with one another.
After all the brawl had started Archian started to feel very thirsty. He reached for a cup and down the Tihaar to the bottom, while catching with another arm Human thrown to him by Draca. Between staring at the shocked face of the Child of Mortis supporter and finishing the shot, he noticed shaking of the decoration at the table. Small rock was wobbling, moving slowly to the edge, stopping each time the victims of Kiffar and Zabrak were flying above or by side of it.
Feeling the surge of energy, excitement and spirit flaming up his throat, Red smashed the glass into the floor, followed by slamming the Human with his shoulder into the wooden plants underneath them. He stayed low, kept eyes on the prize and started crawling.
The table with the shaking rock wasn’t far, just around 5 meters away, but avoidance of fight was important. Of course it couldn’t be that easy and someone stopped him by grabbing his right leg. The scared face of Bartender stared at him with a crooked smile, bleeding, dropping blood at the floor after Hector’s glass collided with his face.
“Bad customer service.” Archian said and kicked Zabrak’s mouth with free leg, splitting the enemy’s cheek with claws. A few teeth went flying, leaving him unconscious and freeing Shistavanen’s leg. Slim body of fur gained a meter forward and tapped the foot of the busy repetitively slamming face of some Bravaisian Patreon into table Hector, pointing at the Small Rock which was almost at the edge of the table.
Patrons around the bar had drawn their blasters. Bolts of blue, red, and green flew around the room as inebriated gunmen fired their weapons.
A purple blade snapped into existence intercepting the Rodian flying towards Hector and cutting the being in two. The being’s dagger fell to the floor, forgotten in the chaos. With a wave of his hand the Kiffar hurled the halves of the Rodian at separate tables, giving his allies time to react to the new threat. He then marched his way into the center of the room, focus occupied with ensuring none of the blasts hit him or his allies; whom were currently busy with their own combative encounters.
“Find cover or deal with the blasters, I can’t hold them back forever!” He shouted to his fellow Brotherhood members over the cacophony occurring within the bar.
Deal with the blasters? Draca could certainly do something about that. He could feel the presence of the Force flowing throughout the bar, the latent malice pouring from the Children of Mortis piled on him, though he remained resolute. He was trained, and he was strong.
‘Be one with the Force.’
Draca closed his eyes and retrieved his weapons. With a snap-hiss of their rainbow blades, he commanded them via arm movements and the Force, sending them careening around the bars at their attackers.
Not a single one killed. He was still a Jedi. If he could avoid bloodshed, he would. The lightsaber tore through the weaponry aimed at them, leaving many speechless and silent. After a few moments, the enemy were effectively disarmed.
With deft arm movements, Draca summoned his lightsabers back to his hands, deactivating them and clipping them back to his belt.
Satisfied that the patrons of this bar would not do anything to risk their lives, he turned to Archian. “Check the creatures. Make sure they are alright. Hector, what should we do now?”
‘He’s far too soft.’ Hector thought to himself. While disarmament worked for this situation the Children were capable of truly heinous things, of crimes against the Force itself. Still, he would respect the wishes of his ally.
“Listen up. Any of you who surrender now will be treated with fairness in accordance with Coruscant wartime legislation. You’ll be fed, watered and sheltered while the Brotherhood figures out what to do with you. Refuse, and I will end your existence in the most miserable way possible.”
Though disarmed of their weapons, the Children of Mortis were not without their bravado. A burly Twi'lek stepped forward, stance radiating hostility. “Oh yeah? Way I see it there are still dozens of us and 3 of you. What are yous going to do about it?”
The bar was silent for several moments. The Twil'ek began to groan, clutching his face in his hands and falling to one knee.
“My head. By the Force he’s in my head. Make it stop. Make it stop. MAKE IT STOP!”
The sentient howled with pain slamming his head into the floor again and again. His movements ceased.
The patrons looked on in shock and fear; paralyzed by the sudden brutality they had witnessed.
“Would anyone else like to join him? Or will you surrender now?”
“We surrender, boys we surrender!” A quick talking Weequay sputtered, raising his hands towards the ceiling.
“Now that is what I like to hear.” Hector boasted. “I’ll handle the transfer of prisoners, you grab whatever Archian was searching for.” He relayed as he marched the prisoners outside to await a Brotherhood arrest.
Dead bloody body was staring at Shistavanen, with gore postmortem red shot eyes. Archian hadn’t been moving since tapping Hector, pointing at small moving rocket the table, and a whole massacre with arrest.
He was focused and connected by Force with Juke, his Scurrier. Companion happily jumped forward to the aiming table, following instructions to come closer and persuade Rock not to run away. It took all Red’s energy to stay still, not break the connection, but also not lose sight at the small jaw which had shown up at the rock when Draca did his disarming trick.
Scurrier reached the table, squeaked and rounded around the table’s base. The Rock responded and lifted the little body at the two legs, wiggled its tail, and started to rub its belly at the table pushing forward to the edge.
The mass scratching of the wood started at every other table and bar inside of the tavern, and little creatures started to rub against the wood at each of the furniture, coming to the edge and jumping off, making a circle around the table where Juke was squeaking happily.
Three individual Fener’s Rocks were outstanding and those followed Zabrak, Kiffar and Shistavanen. One reddish creature jumped at Archian’s back, rubbing all over his shoulders. Other two jumped each at the both Hector and Draca - darker crimson at Sith’s left arm, and lighter rose coloured at Jedi’s right arm.
“I didn’t expect that many to be held here. Good that we brought backup.” Archian said to Draca, relaxing a bit when Scurrier started to play at the floor with the first spotted rocky creature. Small whistle was enough for the big jaw of Happabore to show up at the entrance. Juke led the line of the creatures hopping at the head of the huge mount.
When all of them were ready and formed the stack of the rocks alongside Happabore’s back, they got on the same ship as prisoners and started their return journey.