Aliit ori'shya tal'din

Fanfiction writer and promoter of the Found Family Trope with a severe alt problem.

[cinlat]

Guide to my Fics

I’m going to make this a pinned post as I’ve received several tentative requests over the years of “Where the hell do I start?!?!” while gesturing vaguely at the chaos on my Ao3 account. Fear not, this will hopefully bring light to the method to my madness. (Okay, there isn’t any, but we here are blessed with bountiful imagination.)

You can also find me on Ao3

NEWEST THING: 

The Weight of Beskar: 

A look into the meaning of the armour for four (six?) very different characters and how they came to wear it. 

Main Characters: All OCs

Fynta Wolfe: Born Mandalorian

Caldus Bruun: Cathar - adopted

Altan Dhorro: Togruta - adopted

Berek Payne: Zabrak - affiliated smuggler

Solish Rasik: Offended Murder Kitty

Noc “Kirin” Suv’en: Professional Thief

Pairings: These will be all over the place, but possible triad waaaay down the road. 

Beloved NPC and Companion cameos expected:

I’ll be crossing this over a couple of my other stories and those of friends. Nahir and Jorgan from Our Own will show up eventually, as well as Lyesh and Quinn from Generations of War. And Cormac, we can’t forget him. Of course, Verin and Cinlat will pop in and out as needed.

Series: Meet Me on the Battlefield (Main Labor of Hate Love) 

All Rated M unless otherwise specified. My pride and joys and the bane of my fanfic existence more often than not. These are the stories that I’ve been writing since 2015 that tie together to make an epic tale of reckless idiocy. These will all be focused (mostly but not exclusively) around my main OC Fynta Wolfe (Mandalorian Trooper) as she stumbles through the galaxy on blind luck and plenty of swear words. Minor Character Deaths in all main fics.

Focal Pairing: F!Trooper/Aric Jorgan

Secondary Pairings: M!Trooper (Balic Cormac)/Elara Dorne | OT3: Theron Shan/F!Imp Agent/Vector Hyllus (With the possible addition of Malavai Quinn waaaay down the road) | Lana Beniko/F!Barsen’thor | Koth Vortena/F!Smuggler | Emperor’s Wrath/Hero of Tython | F!Bounty Hunter/M!Bounty Hunter

Wolfe Pups: The Prologue, if you will

The Art of Being Invisible: Secondary Prologue? The Prequel? A collections of stories from Fynta’s time in the Republic SIS (WIP) Rated E

Family is more than Blood: Havoc Squad through Shadow of Revan

Heart on a Trigger: Kotfe

Blood in the Breeze: Kotet (completed)

SWtOR AU Fics: 

Whiskey and Tihaar: Sith Fynta and Jedi Jorgan forced to work together to deal with a common threat. (WIP)

FFXIV Fics:

Echo of Evil: A Final Fantasy XIV fic that follows the Red Mage job class. (I fell in love with X’rhun Tia, not going to lie.)

The Versatility of War:  A collection of prompts and challenges featuring my Au Ra Warrior of Light, Isashi Tosho. And probably some shenanigans by side characters that I’ve made along the way.

Keep reading

[dirt-secret]

moonsong

My Patreon: https://patreon.com/dirtsecret My Substar: https://subscribestar.adult/dirtsecret

[cinlat]

I decided to dip my toes into Dragon Age and knew it must be fate when this was the expression they let me give my disaster girl for her portrait.

[cinlat]

The Weight of Beskar - Ch 12: Melee

Summary: There is a silent battle of wills over popcorn while watching a pirated stream of the Melee for the Great Hunt. Chapter Word Count: 2,348 Chapter Rating: T Ao3 Link

Note: Noara belongs to @kunoichi-ume and the scene they watched is from her story Cloan & Blaster.

“Are you two coming or not?” Altan called from the main room. He’d been working on slicing the yacht’s firewalls most of the day so that they could pirate the live feed Jos had forwarded them. It was evening on Dromund Kaas, time for the Melee to decide who moved into the Great Hunt.

Caldus ran the towel over himself for a third time, grimacing at the way his fur fluffed with the action. Fynta was going to smirk. The damn woman didn’t even have to say anything, he knew she was going to be amused. 

Pulling a shirt on, Caldus made a final attempt to smooth his neck fur, then grabbed a comb and started on his hair as he headed into the room where Altan waited. The glaring lights of the projector wall hit him like a physical thing and Caldus rubbed the bridge of his nose to ease the pressure behind his eyes.

“Are we watching this?” Altan stared at the screen, mouth set in a thin line. 

It had been Fynta’s idea, and it annoyed Caldus that it was a really good one. They could all use a break from the mind numbing research that Altan had subjected them on for nearly forty-eight hours. Maybe watching people beat the shit out of each other would reset Caldus’s brain. 

Altan had said give him an hour to slice the system; that had been forty-five minutes ago and apparently the Togruta was irritated that no one had rushed to the sofa the moment he said it was ready. Some things never changed.

Fynta rolled off of the bed she shared with Altan with a chuckle. “We’re coming, vod’ika.” Caldus hadn’t asked his brother about the sleeping conditions yet, but neither had moved to the couch yet. 

Speaking of the couch—Caldus flopped onto the center cushion and threw his arms over the back, spreading his legs to take up as much space as possible. Altan already sat on the floor, and Caldus wanted to know how Fynta would react. He had been testing her since their heart to heart, seeing how far he could push before she asserted some kind authority over him the way humans eventually did.

After snagging a bowl of popcorn from the kitchen, Fynta deposited a small portion in Altan’s lap. She paused in front of the sofa, eyes narrowed, then hugged the larger bowl to her chest. Caldus clicked his teeth, and Fynta stuffed a handful into her mouth. 

Caldus saw the moment Fynta made her decision. There was a certain light that entered her eyes in the face of a challenge. Caldus inhaled, filed the various markers away unconsciously, and refused to give ground. 

Fynta stepped over Altan’s outstretched legs and smacked Caldus’s knee hard enough to sting. Then climbed over him onto the sliver of cushion Caldus hadn’t managed to cover. Once in position, the woman turned around and dropped with enough weight that her hips physically shoved Caldus out of the way. Her prosthetic grazed his knee, and Caldus lurched forward with a hiss at the sharp spike of pain that traveled down to his ankle. When he looked over to growl, only that infuriating smirk greeted him. 

Caldus huffed out a long breath, then reached over to snatch a handful of popcorn, offering a tooth-filled grin of his own when she swore and tried to elbow his arm away. Altan ignored them from his position out of reach of their scuffling, working to get the feed going. 

Fynta bared her teeth at Caldus and hugged her bowl, angling her body so that he’d have to get too familiar to steal more kernels. It dragged a reluctant chuckle from him as she settled into an awkward crouch to protect her bounty. 

"Do we know who the contenders are yet?” Fynta asked around a mouthful of popcorn. 

Altan glanced up only long enough to check the loading progress. Caldus reached down to snag his bowl, meeting Fynta’s narrowed eyes as he sat up. Slowly, the woman bent forward to set her bowl on the floor and nudged it into the place Altan’s had been.

"No one of note,” Altan answered, without acknowledging the power struggle at his back. Knowing his brother, the Togruta was completely oblivious to the exchange of snacks. “Oh, but here’s a list and it looks like Mako’s hunter made it. Her name is Noara.”

Caldus flopped an arm across the couch, balancing the bowl in his lap. “The one with the sabers.” Then, he offered Fynta another unkind grin. “The tiny human who pinned your brother to the wall on Hutta.”

“Nu draar.” Fynta leaned forward to study the screen, eyes darting over each contestant. “Why am I just hearing about this? Shab, I should have put money on her.” The image cleared and Fynta cheered. “Oh, nice Altan, turn it up.”

Caldus turned back in time to see the Hunt Master step out, roaring about glory and honor of the hunt, before introducing their candidates. “There she is.” Altan pointed at the screen with a grin, inching closer when Noara flashed into view. “I tried to find a net trail, but there wasn’t much. Just a vague article about the murder of a Jedi and a reward for his sabers offered by the council. Think that was her?”

"She’s got balls if it was,” Caldus admitted.

"And some damn fine abs,” Fynta added.

Caldus glanced at the woman beside him, taking in the intensity with which she studied the Noara. True, the little hunter wore not much more than a sports bra and low slung pants. Fynta had a point, for such a tiny thing, Noara’s muscle definition was impressive. 

It occurred to Caldus that Fynta hadn’t been placating him when she said she was attracted to strength. He took a subtle breath and froze. It was the same scent he'd caught when she'd looked at him. Relief loosened something tight in his chest, his body going light for a moment.  She’d told the truth. Her attraction to him wasn’t a personal kink. The insane woman just appreciated anyone who could throw her across a room. Given the way Noara had handled Verin, Caldus bet the little hunter fit that definition. 

Muscles that Caldus hadn’t realized were tense started to relax. The warmth pressed against his side no longer felt invasive. As subtly as he could, Caldus moved a couple of inches over to give the woman more space. Space she promptly filled by stretching out her fake leg to dangle over the edge of the cushion. Fynta didn’t acknowledge his actions, and Caldus was okay with that. 

“She vanished for a while after if it was,” Altan continued. “There isn’t another article until she showed up on Hutta.”

"Probably learning how not to cut her own leg off,” Fynta muttered, knocking on her metal foot. 

Again, a rumble of laughter surprised Caldus before he could catch it. He’d seen the scars covering Fynta’s body when she answered the door half naked on Hutta. Caldus vaguely wondered where someone her age had gotten so many, if that had shaped who she was now, or if she’d shaped them.

“That is an important skill,” Altan agreed, finally noticing his popcorn and grabbing the bowl. Caldus reached for his own handful, only to find soft fabric instead. When he looked down, the bowl was gone.

Not gone, Caldus realized, but cradled in Fynta’s arms once more. He glared, and she stared straight ahead, but those infuriating lips pulled up at the corners while she chewed. When Caldus opened his mouth to threaten the woman, she waved a hand. “Hush, it’s about to start.”

Folding his arms, Caldus glared at the screen where the competitors were taking up position. More than one gestured to Noara, the girl looking out of place amidst the heavily armoured figures surrounding the platform. 

As soon as the signal was given, Mako’s friend burst into action. The sabers hummed to life, cutting through her first victim with ease. Fynta sat forward with a cheer, popcorn bowl forgotten in her lap. Caldus snatched it before it could hit the floor while Fynta threw her arms up with another shout. 

Caldus took the moment to openly study the woman and the way his brother didn’t flinch away from her noise. Altan watched the screen with a bemused smile, jotting down notes on each participant, then marking their names off his list as each fell. 

With snacks safely in his lap again, Caldus leaned back and split his attention between his companions and the melee taking place half a galaxy away. Without looking back, Fynta grabbed a handful of the kernels, meaning she’d known the entire time that he’d reclaimed his prize, and stuffed it into her mouth. Caldus sighed but didn’t object this time.

“Hut'uunla nari!” Fynta shouted when a Gamorrean pinned Noara with a less than legal move. Somehow, the small woman got back to her feet. The Gamorrean didn’t. 

Fynta’s fingers groped for another handful of popcorn while she swore at the screen. This time, Caldus moved the bowl closer. Her tirade didn’t end until the final person fell, leaving Noara the last one standing. 

Fynta leapt to her feet with a cheer, but Caldus noticed the way Noara blinked at the carnage around her, her mask slipping for a moment. Then, she straightened to receive her reward, emotion wiped from her face. If Caldus hadn’t met the woman in person, he might not have seen it. 

Falling back onto the couch, Fynta fanned her face and chuckled. “Shab, I need to buy that woman a drink." 

Caldus rolled his eyes, finding it easier to tolerate Fynta’s blatant innuendos now that he understood their source. Mainly, that they weren’t only aimed at him. “Speaking of which, anyone up for the cantina?”

”I’ll go. My treat.” Fynta hopped from the sofa to grab her jacket while Caldus went for his boots. In truth, he was glad she wanted to join him. When Caldus scoped it out that first day, the only patrons had been human. He wasn’t ready to put himself under that much scrutiny and Fynta was the only human he had on hand. Maybe her presence would dampen their disdain.

“Deal,” Caldus agreed. Let the woman buy him booze, she might finally get her answer about how much he could drink. 

While sliding into her jacket, Fynta looked down at Altan where he still sat on the floor. “Want me to bring back snacks?”

Altan’s grin made Fynta chuckle. Caldus knew his brother didn’t drink, but he wished the man would come with them. Having two aliens would be less awkward. But, Altan would be happier staying in the room, likely studying Nar Shaddaa or brushing up on Sith lore now that they had an idea of what waited for them on the Hutt moon.

Pulling on her single boot, Fynta offered a closed fist to Altan. He answered in kind, bumping his fingers lightly to hers. Caldus realized that this was a side of his brother he’d never seen. The part of Altan that didn’t need him to guide or protect. He’d developed a friendship with Fynta on his own. Altan had known Mako was on Hutta, and had kept his childhood friendship with Jurr going without anyone knowing. Maybe Caldus was the one who should be taking notes.

“Should I wait up?” Altan called, datapad already in his hands and empty bowl set aside.

Caldus gave a noncommittal grunt and waved over his shoulder. Fynta huffed a laugh. “Probably not. I’m going to see if I can keep up with your brother.”

“Good luck,” Altan replied, and Caldus wasn’t sure if his brother was joking or being completely serious. Either were equally possible.

Caldus stepped into the hallway first, pausing only long enough to make sure that the door shut and locked behind Fynta. He didn’t want anyone sneaking in while Altan was engrossed in another project. A thief could rob the room clean and the Togruta might not even notice if whatever he read was captivating enough.

As they walked, Caldus noted the way Fynta pressed herself to the wall. The passageways on the yacht weren’t large, and he wondered if that was her way of giving him space without making it obvious.

“Admit it,” Fynta said after a few turns. “I’m your token human at the bar, right?”

“Yup,” was all Caldus offered in reply. To his surprise, the woman chuckled. At least he wouldn’t have to pretend to carry on conversation once they arrived. If Fynta knew he was using her, that made the entire ordeal less complicated. 

The chatter of a crowd reached Caldus before the eatery came into view. He realized it was dinner time aboard the ship, and there were fewer tables than he had hoped. Fynta didn’t seem to mind. Why would she, they were all human like her. 

Fynta passed the bored security guard watching the entrance and marched directly to a high top with three empty chairs. The guard who didn’t so much as glance at Fynta narrowed his eyes at Caldus. “No trouble,” the grizzled old man grumbled. It was better to pretend that he hadn’t heard the man rather than growl the response that came to mind.

A rippling hush followed Caldus to the table, conversations only picking up again when he sat across from Fynta. It wasn't lost on him that she left the chair with its back to the wall. It annoyed him how much he appreciated it. 

“You’re going to make me pay for that comment about drinking you under the table, aren’t you?” Fynta asked while scrolling through the menu set into the center of the table. She managed to make it feel like a perfectly normal question, taking Caldus’s mind off the furtive glances from their fellow diners.

To show that he wouldn’t be cowed by their judgemental stares, Caldus let the room see when he bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Absolutely.” 

[winterfoxdraws]

I started the "Justice for Bones" project to give him all the outfits he didn't have in the classic series. I'm very proud of this one. What will be next?

[artctrlcee]

Empty nest syndrome

Based on the outtakes by Thancred's English VA (link to bsky)

[cinlat]

The Weight of Beskar - Ch 12: Melee

Summary: There is a silent battle of wills over popcorn while watching a pirated stream of the Melee for the Great Hunt. Chapter Word Count: 2,348 Chapter Rating: T Ao3 Link

Note: Noara belongs to @kunoichi-ume and the scene they watched is from her story Cloan & Blaster.

“Are you two coming or not?” Altan called from the main room. He’d been working on slicing the yacht’s firewalls most of the day so that they could pirate the live feed Jos had forwarded them. It was evening on Dromund Kaas, time for the Melee to decide who moved into the Great Hunt.

Caldus ran the towel over himself for a third time, grimacing at the way his fur fluffed with the action. Fynta was going to smirk. The damn woman didn’t even have to say anything, he knew she was going to be amused. 

Pulling a shirt on, Caldus made a final attempt to smooth his neck fur, then grabbed a comb and started on his hair as he headed into the room where Altan waited. The glaring lights of the projector wall hit him like a physical thing and Caldus rubbed the bridge of his nose to ease the pressure behind his eyes.

“Are we watching this?” Altan stared at the screen, mouth set in a thin line. 

It had been Fynta’s idea, and it annoyed Caldus that it was a really good one. They could all use a break from the mind numbing research that Altan had subjected them on for nearly forty-eight hours. Maybe watching people beat the shit out of each other would reset Caldus’s brain. 

Altan had said give him an hour to slice the system; that had been forty-five minutes ago and apparently the Togruta was irritated that no one had rushed to the sofa the moment he said it was ready. Some things never changed.

Fynta rolled off of the bed she shared with Altan with a chuckle. “We’re coming, vod’ika.” Caldus hadn’t asked his brother about the sleeping conditions yet, but neither had moved to the couch yet. 

Speaking of the couch—Caldus flopped onto the center cushion and threw his arms over the back, spreading his legs to take up as much space as possible. Altan already sat on the floor, and Caldus wanted to know how Fynta would react. He had been testing her since their heart to heart, seeing how far he could push before she asserted some kind authority over him the way humans eventually did.

After snagging a bowl of popcorn from the kitchen, Fynta deposited a small portion in Altan’s lap. She paused in front of the sofa, eyes narrowed, then hugged the larger bowl to her chest. Caldus clicked his teeth, and Fynta stuffed a handful into her mouth. 

Caldus saw the moment Fynta made her decision. There was a certain light that entered her eyes in the face of a challenge. Caldus inhaled, filed the various markers away unconsciously, and refused to give ground. 

Fynta stepped over Altan’s outstretched legs and smacked Caldus’s knee hard enough to sting. Then climbed over him onto the sliver of cushion Caldus hadn’t managed to cover. Once in position, the woman turned around and dropped with enough weight that her hips physically shoved Caldus out of the way. Her prosthetic grazed his knee, and Caldus lurched forward with a hiss at the sharp spike of pain that traveled down to his ankle. When he looked over to growl, only that infuriating smirk greeted him. 

Caldus huffed out a long breath, then reached over to snatch a handful of popcorn, offering a tooth-filled grin of his own when she swore and tried to elbow his arm away. Altan ignored them from his position out of reach of their scuffling, working to get the feed going. 

Fynta bared her teeth at Caldus and hugged her bowl, angling her body so that he’d have to get too familiar to steal more kernels. It dragged a reluctant chuckle from him as she settled into an awkward crouch to protect her bounty. 

"Do we know who the contenders are yet?” Fynta asked around a mouthful of popcorn. 

Altan glanced up only long enough to check the loading progress. Caldus reached down to snag his bowl, meeting Fynta’s narrowed eyes as he sat up. Slowly, the woman bent forward to set her bowl on the floor and nudged it into the place Altan’s had been.

"No one of note,” Altan answered, without acknowledging the power struggle at his back. Knowing his brother, the Togruta was completely oblivious to the exchange of snacks. “Oh, but here’s a list and it looks like Mako’s hunter made it. Her name is Noara.”

Caldus flopped an arm across the couch, balancing the bowl in his lap. “The one with the sabers.” Then, he offered Fynta another unkind grin. “The tiny human who pinned your brother to the wall on Hutta.”

“Nu draar.” Fynta leaned forward to study the screen, eyes darting over each contestant. “Why am I just hearing about this? Shab, I should have put money on her.” The image cleared and Fynta cheered. “Oh, nice Altan, turn it up.”

Caldus turned back in time to see the Hunt Master step out, roaring about glory and honor of the hunt, before introducing their candidates. “There she is.” Altan pointed at the screen with a grin, inching closer when Noara flashed into view. “I tried to find a net trail, but there wasn’t much. Just a vague article about the murder of a Jedi and a reward for his sabers offered by the council. Think that was her?”

"She’s got balls if it was,” Caldus admitted.

"And some damn fine abs,” Fynta added.

Caldus glanced at the woman beside him, taking in the intensity with which she studied the Noara. True, the little hunter wore not much more than a sports bra and low slung pants. Fynta had a point, for such a tiny thing, Noara’s muscle definition was impressive. 

It occurred to Caldus that Fynta hadn’t been placating him when she said she was attracted to strength. He took a subtle breath and froze. It was the same scent he'd caught when she'd looked at him. Relief loosened something tight in his chest, his body going light for a moment.  She’d told the truth. Her attraction to him wasn’t a personal kink. The insane woman just appreciated anyone who could throw her across a room. Given the way Noara had handled Verin, Caldus bet the little hunter fit that definition. 

Muscles that Caldus hadn’t realized were tense started to relax. The warmth pressed against his side no longer felt invasive. As subtly as he could, Caldus moved a couple of inches over to give the woman more space. Space she promptly filled by stretching out her fake leg to dangle over the edge of the cushion. Fynta didn’t acknowledge his actions, and Caldus was okay with that. 

“She vanished for a while after if it was,” Altan continued. “There isn’t another article until she showed up on Hutta.”

"Probably learning how not to cut her own leg off,” Fynta muttered, knocking on her metal foot. 

Again, a rumble of laughter surprised Caldus before he could catch it. He’d seen the scars covering Fynta’s body when she answered the door half naked on Hutta. Caldus vaguely wondered where someone her age had gotten so many, if that had shaped who she was now, or if she’d shaped them.

“That is an important skill,” Altan agreed, finally noticing his popcorn and grabbing the bowl. Caldus reached for his own handful, only to find soft fabric instead. When he looked down, the bowl was gone.

Not gone, Caldus realized, but cradled in Fynta’s arms once more. He glared, and she stared straight ahead, but those infuriating lips pulled up at the corners while she chewed. When Caldus opened his mouth to threaten the woman, she waved a hand. “Hush, it’s about to start.”

Folding his arms, Caldus glared at the screen where the competitors were taking up position. More than one gestured to Noara, the girl looking out of place amidst the heavily armoured figures surrounding the platform. 

As soon as the signal was given, Mako’s friend burst into action. The sabers hummed to life, cutting through her first victim with ease. Fynta sat forward with a cheer, popcorn bowl forgotten in her lap. Caldus snatched it before it could hit the floor while Fynta threw her arms up with another shout. 

Caldus took the moment to openly study the woman and the way his brother didn’t flinch away from her noise. Altan watched the screen with a bemused smile, jotting down notes on each participant, then marking their names off his list as each fell. 

With snacks safely in his lap again, Caldus leaned back and split his attention between his companions and the melee taking place half a galaxy away. Without looking back, Fynta grabbed a handful of the kernels, meaning she’d known the entire time that he’d reclaimed his prize, and stuffed it into her mouth. Caldus sighed but didn’t object this time.

“Hut'uunla nari!” Fynta shouted when a Gamorrean pinned Noara with a less than legal move. Somehow, the small woman got back to her feet. The Gamorrean didn’t. 

Fynta’s fingers groped for another handful of popcorn while she swore at the screen. This time, Caldus moved the bowl closer. Her tirade didn’t end until the final person fell, leaving Noara the last one standing. 

Fynta leapt to her feet with a cheer, but Caldus noticed the way Noara blinked at the carnage around her, her mask slipping for a moment. Then, she straightened to receive her reward, emotion wiped from her face. If Caldus hadn’t met the woman in person, he might not have seen it. 

Falling back onto the couch, Fynta fanned her face and chuckled. “Shab, I need to buy that woman a drink." 

Caldus rolled his eyes, finding it easier to tolerate Fynta’s blatant innuendos now that he understood their source. Mainly, that they weren’t only aimed at him. “Speaking of which, anyone up for the cantina?”

”I’ll go. My treat.” Fynta hopped from the sofa to grab her jacket while Caldus went for his boots. In truth, he was glad she wanted to join him. When Caldus scoped it out that first day, the only patrons had been human. He wasn’t ready to put himself under that much scrutiny and Fynta was the only human he had on hand. Maybe her presence would dampen their disdain.

“Deal,” Caldus agreed. Let the woman buy him booze, she might finally get her answer about how much he could drink. 

While sliding into her jacket, Fynta looked down at Altan where he still sat on the floor. “Want me to bring back snacks?”

Altan’s grin made Fynta chuckle. Caldus knew his brother didn’t drink, but he wished the man would come with them. Having two aliens would be less awkward. But, Altan would be happier staying in the room, likely studying Nar Shaddaa or brushing up on Sith lore now that they had an idea of what waited for them on the Hutt moon.

Pulling on her single boot, Fynta offered a closed fist to Altan. He answered in kind, bumping his fingers lightly to hers. Caldus realized that this was a side of his brother he’d never seen. The part of Altan that didn’t need him to guide or protect. He’d developed a friendship with Fynta on his own. Altan had known Mako was on Hutta, and had kept his childhood friendship with Jurr going without anyone knowing. Maybe Caldus was the one who should be taking notes.

“Should I wait up?” Altan called, datapad already in his hands and empty bowl set aside.

Caldus gave a noncommittal grunt and waved over his shoulder. Fynta huffed a laugh. “Probably not. I’m going to see if I can keep up with your brother.”

“Good luck,” Altan replied, and Caldus wasn’t sure if his brother was joking or being completely serious. Either were equally possible.

Caldus stepped into the hallway first, pausing only long enough to make sure that the door shut and locked behind Fynta. He didn’t want anyone sneaking in while Altan was engrossed in another project. A thief could rob the room clean and the Togruta might not even notice if whatever he read was captivating enough.

As they walked, Caldus noted the way Fynta pressed herself to the wall. The passageways on the yacht weren’t large, and he wondered if that was her way of giving him space without making it obvious.

“Admit it,” Fynta said after a few turns. “I’m your token human at the bar, right?”

“Yup,” was all Caldus offered in reply. To his surprise, the woman chuckled. At least he wouldn’t have to pretend to carry on conversation once they arrived. If Fynta knew he was using her, that made the entire ordeal less complicated. 

The chatter of a crowd reached Caldus before the eatery came into view. He realized it was dinner time aboard the ship, and there were fewer tables than he had hoped. Fynta didn’t seem to mind. Why would she, they were all human like her. 

Fynta passed the bored security guard watching the entrance and marched directly to a high top with three empty chairs. The guard who didn’t so much as glance at Fynta narrowed his eyes at Caldus. “No trouble,” the grizzled old man grumbled. It was better to pretend that he hadn’t heard the man rather than growl the response that came to mind.

A rippling hush followed Caldus to the table, conversations only picking up again when he sat across from Fynta. It wasn't lost on him that she left the chair with its back to the wall. It annoyed him how much he appreciated it. 

“You’re going to make me pay for that comment about drinking you under the table, aren’t you?” Fynta asked while scrolling through the menu set into the center of the table. She managed to make it feel like a perfectly normal question, taking Caldus’s mind off the furtive glances from their fellow diners.

To show that he wouldn’t be cowed by their judgemental stares, Caldus let the room see when he bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Absolutely.” 

[kunoichi-ume]

Cloak & Blaster Chapter 12

Ao3 Link

Summary: Finally the Grand Melee has arrived! Mandalorians from all over have come to witness it, including some familar faces, to see how the fight goes.

Word Count: 5,754

*We'll just pretend she is holding a lightsaber....*

The relief Noara felt as they left the Sith Temple was surprising. The oppressive darkness of the planet felt almost palatable after being inside those ancient halls. After their fight in the wreckage of the collapsed ramp, and with the stealth generator again working, it was easy to make their way to where Mako’s search had located Commander Gargun’s location tag. 

Noara wanted to thank the stars for that. The temple was a maze of twisting corridors branching off in every direction. Some went up to the second level, some to lower levels deep in the ground. It would have taken ages to find him, hidden away at the end of one at the far side of the atrium.

Once they had found the Commander it quickly became apparent he was no longer in control of his mind or body. Instead of an Imperial officer they were speaking to the ‘great Lord Barel-Slathborn’ who would not recognize that he was dead or inhabiting another man’s body. After a roundabout conversation with the man, Mako had noticed the ID badge sticking out of one of his pockets. When she asked about it, trying to point out that if he was this great Sith Lord it was odd he had an Imperial Intelligence ID, he instead offered it to her as a ‘token’ of their visit if they would just leave him alone. 

Never one to look a gift orbak in the mouth, she accepted it and they left before the ‘Sith’ lost patience with them. 

Then it had just been a matter of carefully making their way out of the temple and the grounds, avoiding the possessed imperials and slaves loitering throughout the space, and back to expedition the base camp. The large turret mounted gates outside the camp had just come into view when Mako gasped. 

Noara stopped walking, looking around to see what had elicited the reaction. “What’s wrong?”

Mako had a perplexed look on her face as she dug out her datapad from her bag. After tapping on it a few times she looked up at Noara. “How long do you think we were in there?”

Frowning at the question, Noara looked at the sky. It wasn’t a great indicator of time with the thick cloud coverage, but it was still light enough to make it daytime. They had gotten an early start that morning, much to Mako’s chagrin, so it couldn’t be much later than mid afternoon. “I guess 10 hours or so?”

Mako shook her head. “Something felt off there, and my implants were constantly reporting errors. We are finally clear enough to hook up back to the holonet and we were in there for almost thirty four hours.”

That couldn’t be right. Noara pulled out her own data pad to check the time and date. Sure enough it was a day and a half later than when they had set out from the city. “But if we were in there that long, wouldn’t we have noticed?” Noara asked, struggling to wrap her mind around it. “We should be exhausted and hungry.” It reminded her about the musing she had done about how the possessed survived. 

A thought appeared in the back of her mind, a dark, disturbing thought. The temple, even more so than the rest of the world, was a nexus of highly concentrated Force aura that was dark and tainted. In her studies she had learned about Force Sustenance, the ability to consume the Force and replace the need for food, water, rest, even oxygen. Her already churning gut clenched.

“What?” Mako asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, “you know something about this, don’t you?”

Noara shook her head, “I don’t think you want to know right now. Let’s put some space between us and that cruk-hole and if you are still curious I will tell you.” She gestured for them to start walking again and, after a moment, Mako did but she had an amused smile on her face. 

“What’s the smile for?”

“I can’t believe you said cruk-hole.”

Feeling her face flush with embarrassment, Noara kept walking. It wasn’t that she didn’t know vulgar language, but she had never gone through the same phase many of her peers did, using swear words to excess. Harsh language like that just did not feel natural to her. “Aren’t we a little pressed for time now?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

Mako cursed under her breath, with a much harsher curse than Noara had uttered, and started walking faster. “You’re right, we have about three hours until the Grand Melee starts. Whether we are there or not.”

They had just barely entered the expedition base camp, heading directly toward the taxi hub, when Lord Alaric stepped into their direct path. 

“Finally, you’re back. Did you do it? I hope you sealed the chambers of the ancients? Kel'eth Ur's chamber especially.” The pale man visibly shuddered, “I'm terrified to think what would happen if Kel'eth Ur and his crazed ideas were to re-emerge!”

Noara thought about the dark, disturbing and unsettling Sith presences inside the temple and how Kel'eth Ur was by far the last intimidating one they encountered, and couldn't help herself from being partially truthful. “Kel’eth Ur left behind a hologram message, sharing his beliefs. Is a Sith who turned Light really something to fear?”

Alaric’s eyes widened and he stepped toward her, “you spoke to his image? Take care not to let his words lead you astray young Sith. Do not underestimate the power of the light, which eternally seeks to destroy us. Did you seal his tomb so no one else can be manipulated by him?”

Mako poked her elbow into Noara’s side, reminding her they were now on a tight schedule. “We sealed his tomb, and all the others. No one going into that place will be able to speak to Kel’eth Ur again.” It was the truth, his holocrom was safely tucked into her bag. She hadn’t been sure what she was going to do with it until this moment, when she knew it would be wrong to hand it over to the Sith. 

“Good, good,” Aleric said with a nod, handing Noara a small metal token. “Kel'eth Ur's secrets have been contained, along with the other ancients. You have done well. Tell your master that you have earned my favor. That token is your proof that you have done a great service to the Empire.” Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and marched away from them. 

Noara chuckled, turning the token over in her hand and thinking over his words. She never got the traditional Master/Padawan dynamic but the idea of telling her any of her masters that she had earned a Sith Lord’s favor was amusing. Mako grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the taxi hub. 

“C’mon we need to get going,” she said. “As long as we can get in to see Medle quickly we should be able to make it.”

Luck was on their side and there was a taxi already at the hub waiting for passengers. Mako took care of scheduling the route while Noara climbed into the back seat. Once she was sitting she started to become aware of how dirty she was. The temple hadn’t been abandoned, but it hadn’t seen any upkeep in probably centuries. Dust, cobwebs and just general grime coated her clothing and probably her hair too. 

As Mako got into the taxi and it started to drive, Noara pulled out her hair tie and worked on combing out some of the tangles and dust. 

“We need to talk,” Mako said after she had finished turning off the droid’s audio receptors, “about the melee.”

“What about it?”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you never kill a target if you can help it, and there’s nothing wrong with that,” Mako added quickly when Noara shot her a look. “It’s kind of a misconception about Bounty Hunting, it isn’t always about killing others. Lots of bounties are for bringing in a target alive, those sometimes even pay more because it’s harder to contain some beings than just killing them.”

Noara hummed thoughtfully as she worked on pulling her hair back up. “I am starting to see that, and I would prefer it if I didn’t have to kill targets like Altaca. His only crime was being gullible.”

“That and his taste in women,” Mako said with a laugh before her expression sobered again. “But that doesn’t mean you can always avoid it. Some targets will require it and the melee definitely will. The other hunters are going to be desperate to continue, and they will kill you if you hesitate or try to show mercy.”

Noara waited until she was done tightening her pony tail and brushing her bangs so they swept to the side the way she liked before she turned to give Mako her full attention. “You’re right, both that I’d prefer to avoid it and that sometimes I won’t be able to. I promise I am prepared to do what needs to be done in the melee.”

“Good,” Mako replied with a grin as she leaned back in her seat. “I’m just getting used to having a space monk watch my back, I’d hate it if you died now. Now I sent a message to Medle’s office that we are on our way but I haven’t gotten a response yet. Hopefully he gets the message and can meet us there.”

Noara pulled a couple protein bars out of her bag and handed one to Mako. “These don’t taste the best but they are a good meal replacement. The uh… circumstances that kept us from being hungry in the temple should wear off soon.”

Frowning as she took the bar, Mako said, “you know I’m starting to think I might never want to know what has you so freaked out about that.”

“Probably a good idea.”

It seemed Captain Medle had not gotten Mako’s message before their arrival at Imperial Intelligence. The receptionist, a very stern woman who was not interested in being helpful, kept insisting they would need to come back during regular business hours. Noara gave up trying to reason with the woman and decided to make her cooperate with them. 

“You will contact Captain Medle and inform him he needs to return to his office immediately,” she ordered, pushing the compulsion to comply through the Force. Once the woman had sent the message, Noara joined Mako where she was standing by the wall tapping on her datapad. 

“We don’t have much time,” Mako said, “he better hurry. I don’t dare slice into their security system to find him here. It’s too risky.”

It took almost fifteen minutes for the Captain to arrive, barging into the room with a demand to know what the emergency was until he noticed them. 

“You’re back!” Medle exclaimed, “but I was told… nevermind, come into my office.” 

They followed him into his private office. He did not address them until he had shut the door behind them and was sitting at his desk. “Did you get the commander’s ID?”

Mako handed the card over and Medle took it quickly, inspecting it closely. “That's Commander Gargun's, all right,” he said after a long moment.

“Of course it is,” Mako said. “Now we are running short on time, we need you to mark the job done now.”

Medle looked up at them, ignoring Mako’s words and asking, “what was it like in the Dark Temple? I've yet to hear anything that didn't sound like pure raving.”

“Dusty and filled with unlucky souls that have been possessed by the spirits that roam free there. Those reports are raving for good reason.”

He nodded. “I had a feeling that was the case. Still wish I could have gone in myself. Would have saved me some unpleasantness. Listen to me, "unpleasantness." I'm even starting to talk like a spy.” Medle stood and walked around his desk to stand in front of Noara, “remember when I said Sith didn't want anyone in the Dark Temple?”

Noara could feel a sudden warning from the Force, a bad feeling in her gut that had nothing to do with the planet’s dark energy. She put a hand up, “stop Captain. I know what you are about to do and it will only end with you and any guards you call in dead.”

“You don’t understand, I can't risk the Sith ever finding out you went into their precious Dark Temple--which means you're now a liability.”

Noara scoffed, “a Sith sent me on an errand into that temple! Lord Alaric was quite pleased to have our aid there.” For good measure she pulled out the token the Sith had given her and held it up for the man to see.

“Lord Alaric is a lesser Sith Lord, but he works for one of the most powerful members of the Dark Council,” Medle said. “If Darth Marr is aware that you were sent to the temple and did not order your termination for the trespass…” His voice trailed off as she heaved a sigh of relief, “I might not be cut out for this work, I don’t have the stomach for it.”

“Not wanting to kill someone is not a failing,” Noara said, making him laugh. 

“In this industry it is.” He shook his head and turned back to his desk, retrieving a small disk and a credit chit. “Here's your writ. It tells the Mandalorians you did your job. And here's your pay.”

“Thank you Captain,” Noara said sincerely, taking the items from him. “You made the right choice today.”

“I hope it’s one I can live with. Now you better hurry, I hear the Melee is meant to start soon. Good luck.”

Noara nodded at his words and turned on her heel to leave the room, feeling Mako at her back. “How are we on time?” she asked as they exited the Intelligence offices and stepped back into the constant rain. 

“It’s close, if we hurry we might make it.”

“Then we better hurry,” Noara said, increasing her pace as they walked toward the Mandalorian Enclave. 

Jurr was out of the taxi like a shot the moment it started parking on the landing platform in front of the Mandalorian Enclave. Torian watched her hustle down the ramp, her long red braid swinging behind her before she spun around and shot him a look with her mismatched eyes. One was her natural warm, golden brown and the other a brighter, artificial yellow gold that almost glowed in the dim mid-day light of Dromund Kaas. The cybernetic eye was a recent addition to the already impressive array of implants she had on the left side of her head. 

It had been entertaining watching her relearn how to navigate the world she had previously only known with a single eye. Of course no one was more entertained than Jurr herself. Some people might find living with her disabilities a burden, and on some level he was sure she did, but she was always the first to crack a joke about her shotty memory. Hell, she got out of the shitter assignments in their hunting camp by pretending her memory core had reset again - even when Torian knew for a fact it had not. 

“Hurry up, Torian!” She snapped impatiently. “The melee is starting soon!”

“We’ve got time Ge’tal’ika,” he replied, following her down the ramp at a much more casual pace. 

Jurr scowled, both at his pace and the nickname. She usually replied to it with her insistence that her vibrant hair was the least interesting thing about herself. That she didn’t was a testament to how excited she was. 

“All the best seats are going to be gone!”

“Jurr, you have a built-in scope now, you will be able to see perfectly no matter where we end up.”

She stopped abruptly and frowned, turning his words over in her mind before speaking. “But you won’t be able to see.”

Torian smiled at the uncertainty in her tone. He wasn’t sure if she was really that concerned with his view of the fight or simply forgot how much her sight has improved since her surgery. Odds were good it was a bit of both. 

He grabbed her armored bicep and propelled her forward, “you’re right, I need a good spot.”

They joined the jostling crowd of Mandalorians making their way into the arena. It was a sea of armored bodies, all painted in different colors and patterns. Most were wearing their helmets but Jurr and Torian weren’t the only ones not sporting theirs. They had finally made it into the tiered seats that were around the stage when a voice called out their names. 

“Torian! Jurr! Get over here!”

Turning toward the voice, Torian was surprised to see Corridan Ordo. He had grown up like brothers with the man, and they were brothers in every way except blood. They made their way over to where he had snagged a few prime seats right at the front. 

“Now this is what I am talking about!” Jurr crowed, immediately securing herself a prime spot as close to the barrier as possible. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here vod,” Torian said, slapping Corridan on the back. The other man had been on an extended assignment offworld for the last few months.

“And miss the first Great Hunt in 10  years? Never!” He nodded at the stage, where a few of the hopeful entrants already stood. “It’s been even longer since one generated enough interest to require a Grand Melee.”

Torian looked out at the stage. It was elevated from the arena floor and sat only slightly below where they sat. He would have a very good view of the show from here. There were a variety of races on the platform. Human, Rodian, Gamorrean, Mirilian. Even a Trandoshen, who were famed hunters due to its significance in their religion. Each hunter wore a variety of armor styles and was heavily armed. 

They had come here to fight, hopefully it would be a good show. 

“Heard anything about these hunters? Any good prospects?” Torian asked. He and Jurr had been in the jungle all week and hadn’t heard much about the competition. 

“Partogg is a clear favorite but there are some interesting rumours about an all-girl duo.” Corridan was always good about keeping himself in the loop so Torian wasn’t surprised he had an answer. “No idea if they made it this far but I hope so.”

“What kind of rumors?” Jurr asked, her face glowing with excitement. 

“Well for one, the hunter in that team uses light sabers. Holonet says she killed a Master Jedi for ‘em.”

“Really?” Jurr’s eyes were wide in surprise, “a run of the mill hunter killed a Jedi?” While Jedi and Sith were not impossible to kill, they were generally a pain in the ass. If it was true, it was certainly impressive. 

“That’s what they say.”

Jurr leaned around Torian and gave Corridan a pointed look, “you think it’s a lie?”

Corridan grinned, “I guess we will find out, won’t we?”

“Well I hope she made it,” Jurr said, settling back into her spot. “I think Mom’s her guide. She told me this morning the all girl due she was mentoring had gotten some shitty bounties for the preliminary competition. She suspected a Mandalorian with some pull had a grudge against them.”

“Some run of the mill hunter has a Mandalorian gunning for them?” Corridan asked, “that’s even harder to believe than that she killed a Jedi.”

Jurr shrugged, “mom said it was the only explanation for her getting marks from Imperial Intelligence and an officer.”

“Welcome to the Grand Melee!” An amplified voice called out, and they all turned their attention to where Huntmaster Assistant Lek striding into the center of the stage. “Five hunters have made it this far and now we will all get to see what you are really made of! It’s a straight forward fight, take out your competition and the last hunter standing joins the Great Hunt! Simple as that! Now-”

He was interrupted as Crysta Markon, Jurr’s mother, strode on to the platform toward him. He muffled the microphone as they exchanged words. 

“What’s going on?” Torian asked. 

“If mom’s here her team must have shown up,” Jurr said standing up and looking toward the competitor entrance. “There! Do you see them down there?”

Torian looked where she was pointing and immediately spotted the two women standing near the entrance. They were talking and it looked intense, the slightly taller woman gesturing as she spoke. The shorter woman had her back to him and he wondered if she was the hunter in the group. The easy posture and way she held herself spoke of confidence but if so her attire was unconventional.

“Well looks like we are in for a treat today!” Lek said, his microphone turned back on. Torian turned back to the stage and saw Crysta heading back to her team. “One of our hunters who was reported dead has arrived making this a six way melee.” He gestured toward the ramp. Torian was surprised to see that he was right, the smaller of the two women had left the other woman with Crysta to head into the arena.

He studied her closely as she reached the edge of the stage. Unlike the other hunters who wore an assortment of armor pieces and utility items, she wore a simple black sleeveless cropped top and matching snug leggings. Nothing that would protect her from any blows or blaster bolts. Nothing that would stop the pierce of a blade. While wholly impractical, top did showcase the impressive tone of her bare arms and abdomen. Even while confused by her lack of protective gear Torian couldn’t help but take notice. The woman was an alluring combination of petite and curvy, the kind of woman who looked like she knew she looked good and used it to her advantage. 

The most dangerous kind of woman. 

And the most attractive.

Added to his surprise was the fact she actually did have two lightsaber hilts hanging off her belt. From the murmur of the crowd around them he was not the only one who noticed.

“Is that-” Jurr asked, voicing the same thoughts Torian had, “she actually has lightsabers!”

“Damn, she does.” Corridan agreed. 

“Nice of you to join us,” Lek said sarcastically. The woman replied with a bright smile but her words were too soft to carry to the stands or be picked up by his microphone. She spoke for a moment to the man, her hands moving along with her words. After a moment she stepped away and Lek addressed the crowd again. “Now that we are all here I can finish my instructions. Six hunters. Only one can move on to the Great Hunt. And for an added bonus, we have a special rule to make this more exciting.”

The wave of surprise that went through both the crowd and the hunters on the stage was palpable. Torian could hear whispers from behind them, wondering aloud what the special rule could possibly be.

Lek gestured to a group of armored Mandalorians stationed at the entrance to the arena and they ascended the stage. 

“My friends here are going to relieve you of your blasters.” Lek said with a grin, “yes that’s right. No blasters will be permitted in this melee. You have to prove your ability to fight, and win, by other means.”

Voices rose from all around the arena. No one saw this coming. Torian was shocked, unable to tear his eyes away from where the Mandalorians Lek had summoned were going around the arena relieving each hunter of their blasters. Some even went as far as patting down the hunters to make sure there were no hidden blasters on their person. Torian tracked their every move as one approached the hunter Crysta was assisting, accepting the single blaster she handed over with another smile, when Jurr grabbed his arm. 

“They aren’t taking her sabers,” she whispered, leaning in so Corridan could hear her as well. “Are they really going to let her use them?”

“Maybe,” Corridan said, “unless they don’t think she can use them.”

“She can use them.” Torian said. “Look at her, she isn’t phased. She’s smiling, like this is going her way.” 

Jurr grinned. “I think this is going to be good.”

Noara had never made a bigger gamble than this. It was bold, reckless even, to attempt to influence the Assistant Huntmaster in front of all the eyes watching. Her saving grace was that no one else was close enough to hear her words as she planted the idea for true melee. She couldn’t help but smile at the grumbling complaints of the other hunters on the platform. It was obvious only she liked the idea. 

Rolling her shoulders to limber up before the fight, Noara took a calculating look at her opponents. Save one human male, the rest were all aliens. A Rodian, Gamorrean, Trandoshen, and a Mirilian made up the rest of the half dozen to qualify for the melee. Before her entrance the fight had been odd numbers, that all but guaranteed that someone would be attacked by two hunters. She had evened things out, making it less likely that more than one hunter would focus on her to start so really they should thank her for turning up.

Unless her late entrance had seriously pissed them off. Hopefully none of them suspected she was responsible for the Mandalorians walking around the platform confiscating their blasters, though from the way the Gamorrean across from her was glaring her way she wasn’t sure it mattered. When one of the blue armor clad figures stopped in front of her Noara was quick to hand over her blaster. There was a slight hesitation in the man’s body language when she confirmed it was her only ranged weapon but he brushed it off after a moment. 

Noticing that the Gamorrean was not the only one giving her an angry look, Noara was reminded of Mako’s final whispered words before they parted. 

“Remember what we talked about in the taxi,” she had hurriedly whispered while Noara was taking off her bag and overtunic. It was sodden from the rain and she was wearing a cropped athletic top underneath that would be easier to maneuver in. “This time there is no getting around killing them, if you don’t they will kill you.”

And she was right of course. Braden had told her it would be necessary to take lives during this mission and she had taken a few. Now she would have to again. It wasn’t that Jedi were opposed to killing their enemies, it just felt a little frivolous for anyone to die for the sake of a competition. Like many things had felt lately, it was out of her hands.

As the mandalorians and Lek started walking off the platform Noara drew both of her sabers. All around the platform the others had also drawn their weapons, two wicked looking daggers for the Rodian; a pulsing vibrosword for the human; the Gamorrean had what looked to just have a large club that had been strapped to his back; the Trandoshen had a bladed polearm - the kind that’s shaft retracted when not in use; and standing closest to Noara was the only other female, the Mirialan, had a metal sword. From the peculiar shine of the metal and the smug look she was directing at Noara she suspected it was at least partly cortosis - one of the few substances that could withstand a lightsaber blade for at least several strikes. 

“Enough bellyaching!” Lex said, his voice amplified by the microphone he was wearing, effectively cutting off the remaining grumbling from the human man standing to Noara’s left. “You hunters are the best that the galaxy's goons and thuglords could send us. Now show us which one of you will join the Great Hunt. Fight!”

Noara burst into motion. Instead of heading for the Mirialan who obviously intended to engage her, she darted for the Trandoshen. Igniting her sabers as she ran, Noara ducked to avoid a wide sweep of the polearm’s blade, flicking her offhand saber up to cut the shaft in half as it fanned over her. Before he could recover from the surprise of his weapon coming apart in his hands, she popped up to her feet and drove her main saber into his mid section, not quite bisecting his body but dealing enough damage to be fatal. He collapsed and didn’t rise again.

One down. 

Sensing movement behind her, Noara side stepped and just barely missed the Mirialan’s sword slicing through where she had just stood. Turning to face her, Noara raked her gaze over the platform to take stock of who was still in the fight. The Rodian was down, his daggers lying on the ground near his still body. The other two were locked in a fierce back and forth as they traded blows but the Gamorrean was visibly overpowering the human.

The Mirialan swung her sword again, forcing Noara to block with one of her sabers. She had expected it but was still surprised when the blade did not give. Definitely cortosis, or something similar. She shot Noara a fierce grin, “not so unstoppable now are you?”

Adjusting her grip on her offhand saber, Noara thrust it toward her opponent’s leg. She quickly stepped away and Noara followed, raining down a series of blows that were blocked frantically. The Mirialan hunter was obviously skilled with her sword but she was at a disadvantage with only one weapon. She also had too much faith in her weapon, unless it was made of beskar or ultrachrome it wasn’t actually insusceptible to her weapon, just resistant. 

Sure enough Noara could see the blade starting to chip and crack with each strike. 

Noara sensed the incoming blow with only a second’s warning to duck, rolling out of the way of the Gamorrean’s club that chopped through where she had just been, colliding heavily with the platform. Bits of stone chipped and shot out in all directions from the impact. A sharp piece hit Noara’s cheek and she could feel warm blood starting to run down her face. 

Taking a quick scan of the platform, she saw that the human male also down, leaving only the three of them still in the fight. 

Given a brief reprieve as the Mirialan was dodging blows from the Gamorean, scoring multiple blows on the larger male but not doing much damage through his armor, Noara stayed down for a moment to get a few deep breaths. It had been a long, grueling time in the temple and the lack of rest was starting to catch up to her. She really needed to try and finish this quickly, it was likely her competitors had been able to rest before the fight.

As she was still Noara noticed she had rolled near where the Rodian had died. Two wicked looking daggers were lying next to the body where he had dropped them. Inspired, she quickly returned her sabers to her belt and snatched up one of the daggers. Popping back up to her feet, Noara felt the weight of the dagger in her hand. It was heavier than she was used to but felt well balanced. 

No sooner had she gotten to her feet when several things happened at once. The Gamorrean caught the Mirialan in the head with the heavy weapon with a sickening sounding blow. As she went down like a sack of tubers Noara threw the dagger. She’d practiced throwing knives before and knew she could hit her target most of the time but still reached for the Force to direct the dagger and give it some extra oomph. It landed in the Gamorrean’s neck, digging deep into the artery there. Noara knew her anatomy well and her aim had been perfect. Blood spurted out from the wound and she could feel warm droplets of it landing on her skin. 

As the Gamorrean collapsed on the platform, still twitching as the spurts of his lifeblood slowed, Noara became aware of the sound of raucous applause. Another person might revel in that, in the victory, but she found herself unable to look away from the blood. Sabers as a rule didn’t cause much bleeding, they cauterized wounds as they cut, and she had never seen so much blood. It was… shocking. And more than a little horrifying, especially knowing that she was responsible for it. 

“The melee is over! One Hunter remains!” Lek proclaimed, his words startling her out of her shock. 

Suddenly Noara was very aware that countless eyes were on her and she was most decidedly not acting like a hardened hunter. Trying to put a bit of swagger into her steps, Noara walked over to the Gamorrean and knelt down. Be one with the force hunter, she thought, not daring to even whisper the words aloud, as she grabbed the dagger and pulled it out. It made the most unnerving squelch as it pulled free and she had to fight to keep the disgust off her face as she wiped the blade on the hunter’s sleeve. Once the blade was clean enough for the moment, she slipped it into her boot. 

Taking trophies was a hunter thing. At least she thought so. She’d have to check with Mako if that had been a good idea or not. 

As if summoned by her thoughts, Mako was at her side and she hadn’t even noticed the woman approaching. She threw her arms around Noara’s shoulders. “You did it! We are in the hunt!” Mako stepped back and lifted one of her arms, gesturing at the crowd, “and you definitely made an impression. Look at them.”

Noara finally looked up at the stands, filled to the brim with people. Most wore mandalorian armor but almost all had their hands up, cheering and clapping. It was strange to have so many people’s attention, let alone their approval, but Noara found that she didn’t hate it at the moment. Later she would probably be disconcerted with all of it but for now she was just relieved this part of the mission was over. 

Mando’a Translations

Ge’tal’ika : Little Red

Vod: Brother

[flora-tea]

To add to the discussion/reminder that Theron Shan is poc and not white: a seemingly small yet significant detail about his design-- true to both the game model and concept art-- is that his eyes are monolid.

This trait is shared with Satele Shan:

Monolids are common among people of East Asian descent.

For my fellow artists out there; here's a guide on portraying Asian traits and avoiding whitewashing [*largely applies to East Asian].

Meanwhile, Jace Malcom has double-lid eyes:

Though I've seen instances where he's portrayed with monolids, like in cinematics. In any case, something worth noting.

Overall, paying attention to Theron's parents is important when portraying him even if things between official art, cinematic trailers, and in-game look a bit inconsistent and some speculativeness may be needed. Fan-artists and official artists alike often seem to struggle with giving Theron his parent's features and that needs to change.

Bottom line: Theron is poc! Both of his bio parents are poc! And that should show in how he's visually portrayed!

White-ifying poc characters is bafflingly common in Star Wars media and fandom btw (I see whitewashed Clones very often for instance 😭). Let's kill this trend!! Please!!

[cinlat]

The Weight of Beskar - Ch 12: Truce

Summary: Fynta and Caldus finally come to a head and are forced to enter into a shaky truce for Altan's sake. Oh, and there is plot… Chapter Word Count: 3,295 Chapter Rating: T Ao3 Link

Fynta might have been more excited about Altan’s new armour than he was. Still, she’d seen more smiles from the Togruta in the last few hours than the entire trip combined. They were back on the floor while he put the finishing touches on her new helmet and she explored his tools without touching them. Fynta opened her mouth to ask more about growing up on Rishi when the door snapped open.

Caldus staggered in, took one look at them seated on the floor and bared his teeth. Fynta had a feeling she was going to see a lot of those teeth before this job was over. “You two look cozy,” the Cathar grumbled, one hand pressed to the wall. A brown bag dangled from the other, and the clink from within told her everything she needed to know about its contents.

A single glance at Altan told Fynta this wasn’t unusual. Fynta had read somewhere that a Cathar’s metabolism rivaled that of even her clansmen when it came to alcohol. The sheer volume he’d have to drink to reach his current state must have put a decent sized dent in the yacht’s supply. She hoped he left some for the rest of them.

A heavy silence filled the room while Caldus glared and Altan tinkered. Standing, Fynta dropped the datapad in Altan’s lap so he could complete the final touches on his armour request. “I’m going to hit the fresher.” She could see a brewing sibling-type argument in Caldus’s eyes and didn’t want to get involved.

Caldus tracked Fynta all the way to the fresher, his molten eyes burning with disdain until they vanished behind the closed door. She didn’t bother pretending that she wasn’t going to listen and pressed her ear to the hollow material in time to hear the Cathar’s rumbling growl. 

“You got a crush on her?” A loud thump indicated that Caldus had made it to the bed.

Altan’s answer was softer, almost ashamed. “She’s our ally. There is no point in alienating her.”

”She’s a fucking human.” The venom behind those words painted a clear picture. Verin had told Fynta about the Cathar’s comment to Cinlat. That it was better being feared in beskar than a slave to Imperials. 

“She’s using you,” Caldus spat, followed by the rattle of bottles. “Don’t let your guard down.”

”She’s not the one treating me like a child,” Altan snapped, then took a deep breath. “I’m an asset to her, not someone she had to protect.”

Caldus’s snarled response was too low to translate through the fresher door. Fynta decided to make her entrance while Altan was still brave enough to face off with his brother. She imagined being a quiet man in Clan Vizla meant his opinions were often drowned out by their noise. 

Throwing open the door, Fynta stretched as she crossed the room. She ignored Caldus’s glare and reclaimed her seat on the floor next to Altan. He offered her the datapad, eyes still fixed on his brother, and Fynta sent the armour request to Solus. Caldus sat forward, his knee jabbing into Fynta’s shoulder. She gave it a shove and the grumpy bastard spread out more. 

”Now that everyone is here,” Fynta started, refusing to look at the Cathar. “Shall we go over these files?” 

That got Caldus’s attention at least. Altan’s too. 

They stopped glaring at one another long enough to move closer to her. Fynta opened the holo program on her datapad and entered the password that Keeper had included in their hiring packet. “Where should we start?”

Altan reached forward, hesitating until Fynta moved the datapad closer to him, then scanned through the items. “There were four other teams before us, one was an Imperial Spec Ops group. There should be body-cam footage.”

A few more swipes, and the Togruta’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Nothing. That’s odd.” Even with full access, the contract was vague. Altan’s brows drew together. “Just this file from nearly a month ago, no label.”

”Play it,” Caldus rumbled, dropping what Fynta realized was an empty beer bottle onto the floor beside her. He sighed and leaned over her shoulder to see the screen. “Maybe it will show us what we’re up against.” 

Caldus’s thigh pushed against Fynta’s shoulder, but she refused to be moved. The haze of alcohol seemed to clear from his eyes by the second, leaving Fynta impressed with how quickly the man sobered, maybe even a little jealous.

Tapping the file, Fynta ignored the blatant posturing at her back and focused on the shaky images of a dark room. “Is that flashing light a marquee?” Altan asked, brown eyes narrowed at the screen. 

Fynta hadn’t considered the lighting, she was too focused on the figures within the smoke-filled space. Sure enough, it flashed through a series of neon colors consistent with advert boards. “Whatever this is, it's been on Nar Shaddaa the entire time.” It was a small clue, but helped establish a timeline and sequence of events. If their quarry had been there from the beginning, then it was unlikely her small team needed to watch the spaceport. 

Fynta started to nudge Altan’s shoulder, then settled for a smile. “Good catch.”

The scene illuminated, triggering a hiss from Caldus, but Fynta was transfixed. “That looked like lightning.” A mountainous creature stepped into frame briefly, snarling words Fynta couldn’t translate, but she swore she felt the vibrations through the feed. Curses filled the audio, accompanied by blaster fire from multiple directions, then the feed cut out. 

They sat there staring at the blank screen. Thirty seconds of chaos and nightmare fuel, but no answers. Finally, Cladus voiced what they were all thinking. ”What the fuck was that?” 

“May I?” Altan asked, palm open and stretched towards Fynta. 

She relinquished the datapad and leaned closer to Altan while he scrolled manually through the footage. It meant she leaned against his shoulder, but the Togruta didn’t tense this time, so Fynta didn’t back up. She wanted to see what his eye had caught that hers missed. 

Altan’s finger slid slowly along the motion bar, pausing on the half revealed monstrosity. It looked like nothing Fynta had seen before. Yellow skin stretched across slabs of thick muscle that made Caldus look ordinary. It was the red glowing eyes and vicious looking fangs that captured Fynta’s attention, though. 

“I think…” Altan rubbed his mouth, the lines of his brows pulling together. “I think it's a Dashade.”

“A what?” Fynta and Caldus asked in unison. They shared a look, his irritated and hers probably irritating. 

Altan ignored them, transfixed by that blurry image. “An ancient creature on the verge of extinction.” 

Setting the footage aside, Altan collected his personal device and scrolled until he landed on what he was looking for. When he turned it towards them, Caldus leaned over Fynta, his breath a distraction against her neck. The Cathar had made his distaste for humans clear, but that didn’t stop her from appreciating the mountain of man at her back. 

“They are Force resistant,” Altan explained, pulling the datapad back to himself when neither of his companions looked at the information it displayed. “I remember reading about them a few years back when I was studying Sith Ancestry. Once a mighty warrior species turned assassins for the Sith.”

A low rumble vibrated against Fynta’s shoulder and she was sure it did not have the desired effect. Thankfully, Caldus didn’t seem to notice. “So they fucked around with a Dashade. Now it’s loose. Fantastic.” The Cathar chuffed and straightened, leaving Fynta chilled without his inhuman body heat. 

“It’s flesh and blood, just like anything else.” Fynta took a shaky breath and forced herself to focus on the real threat in the room instead of her hormones. Though, capturing the thing alive looked like a distant priority now. Dead with proof might have to be enough. 

”It’s also an endangered species,” Altan argued, his voice firming the same way it had when they discussed his skill with a rifle. “Whatever they did to him is not his fault.”

Fynta saw the heart of a boy, then. The young man who’d somehow remained gentle despite the way he’d come into his family. She risked a look at Caldus, and for once, didn’t find fury in those bright eyes. The Cathar ran a hand down his face and sighed. “It might not be its fault, but it still needs to be put down.”

“Why?” Altan jabbed a finger at the screen. “Because whoever created it says so?” 

Before either of them could answer, the Togruta shoved to his feet with unnatural grace. “I need to stretch my legs.”

Caldus started to stand, but Fynta elbowed his calf and shook her head. To her surprise, the grumpy Cathar flopped back onto the mattress. She waited until Altan was clear of the door before adding more. “Let him sort out his feelings. I have faith that he’ll do the right thing when the time comes.”

“He’s been like that since I’ve known him.” Caldus snorted. “Protect the ant hill, feed the strays, rescue the downtrodden. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it extends to monsters.”

Climbing to her feet, Fynta arched her back until her spine popped, then looked around. “Hey, where’d you put those beers?” She found them before Caldus could answer and snagged one from the bag next to his boot.

The Cathar settled against the headboard of his bed, golden eyes focusing on her with a predator's intensity. “Those are mine.” 

”Right,” Fynta smacked the top of the bottle against a ridge on her prosthetic with a grin. Then, she lifted it in cheers. “Thanks.”

A long breath escaped through Caldus’s nostrils as he produced a blade. Fynta lifted a brow at the open threat, then added the other when a block of foam appeared next. “Since I’m sober now, hand me one too.”

Fynta obliged, setting the bottle on the table that separated their beds. Long curls of foam drifted into the cloth spread across Caldus’s lap. Those massive hands with their sharp claws cradled the foam block with practiced care. Fynta wondered what it would become, and if he’d show her when it was finished.

Fynta must have hovered too long because Caldus slowly raised his eyes. “What?” 

“How much can you drink before you feel it?” Fynta propped her shoulder against the wall, pretending that she wasn’t more interested in what he was creating. If she asked directly, the stubborn Cathar would shut down and she’d never find out what it was.

Caldus must have read the challenge between Fynta’s words, because he flashed a few too many teeth to be friendly. “Don’t try it, human. You wouldn’t survive.”

Fynta renewed her grin, pleased to have an interaction that didn’t involve snarls—yet. “Don’t you know it’s instinctual for a Mandalorian to push her limits?” To prove her point, Fynta let her gaze slip down Caldus’s body. Even with his back to the wall, the man’s feet nearly reached the end of the bed. One of his thighs was as large as her waist, and fierfek, those arms.

A snarl rolled through Caldus, snapping Fynta’s attention up to his eyes. His teeth were bared, those burning embers filled with more rage than she deserved. Fynta was rarely innocent, but she hadn’t even begun to be a big enough pain in Caldus’s ass to warrant that glare. Then, the Cathar’s chest expanded, nostrils flaring in a deliberate inhale.

Shab.

The curse had barely rolled through her mind before the realization landed. Cathar senses were legendary, which meant there was a real chance that Caldus could scent exactly where her thoughts had wandered.

Caldus clicked his teeth, eyes narrowed. Finally, Fynta understood.

The tension between them pulled taut, nothing but the hum of the yacht’s engines to fill the silence. She took a step closer, and Caldus rumbled another warning. Testing her limits was fun, but this felt different. She wasn’t just annoying him, she was provoking. That had never been the plan.

Raising her hands, Fynta steadied her voice to hide the pounding of her heart. “Listen, we need to get this sorted before we get to Nar Shaddaa.”

Caldus didn’t hesitate. “Sort what out?” Judging by the Cathar’s tone, he understood and was being an ass. 

”This.” Fynta gestured between them, refusing to rise to the bait. “Whatever this animosity is.” Though, she supposed she couldn’t blame the man. Not if her suspicion was true and he could physically scent her moods. Fierfek, that was going to complicate things. 

Fynta continued before Caldus could speak. “Otherwise, someone is going to get hurt. With our luck, it’ll be Altan.”

Caldus was off his bed in a heartbeat, and Fynta nearly flinched back. She caught herself at the last moment and forced a glare up at the Cathar. She’d faced deadlier men than him. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her unbalanced. Altan was a trigger though, that she filed away for later.

Chest heaving, Caldus straightened to full height, blade and foam block forgotten on his bed, the shavings he’d meticulously collected scattered across the floor. “I don’t trust humans,” he managed between gritted teeth. Fynta didn’t miss the symbolism of his discarded weapon either. He could kill her without one. She let that slide off her without acknowledgment. 

”That’s probably fair,” Fynta agreed, lifting an eyebrow in challenge when he leaned into her personal space. Each interaction gave her more of his measure. Caldus used his size and species to intimidate, trying to crowd her out. It was a brute tactic mostly likely learned at the hands of brutes.

Fynta took a step closer, intentionally invading the Cathar’s space to show that she wouldn’t be so easily cowed. “Are you willing to risk Altan’s safety over it?” When Caldus tipped his head, their faces now inched apart, Fynta continued. “We are going up against a veritable myth, something I didn’t even know existed until ten minutes ago. You and I need to be in sync, trust each other to do the job we were hired for. If you can’t manage that alongside a human, then sell your portion of the contract and go home.”

Finally, Caldus relaxed his posture, straightening without relinquishing the gap between them. Those same fingers that held the foam so carefully now curled into tight fists at his sides. He took a shaky breath.  “What do you suggest?”

Fynta wasn’t interested in a game of dominance, she just wanted to know if it all went to osik, he’d have her back. So, she took a step away, releasing the tension in her shoulders and legs so that her stance matched his. They entered an awkward stalemate of sorts. “Apart from being human, what am I doing to piss you off?”

That shabbing lip pulled back again, but the answer carried more honesty than Fynta expected. “The way you look at me, it reminds me of them.” 

Fynta had no concrete evidence who them was, but given the pieces of conversation she’d managed to drag out of the surly bastard she assumed his owners; human owners. Another piece of the puzzle dropped into place and she didn’t like the picture it built. Because the way she looked at him had nothing to do with possession, but appreciation of an impressive physique. 

“Shab.” The word slipped out, hot rage flooding Fynta’s system. Another growl started somewhere deep inside Caldus, but she spoke before he could interpret her outrage as pity. “Listen, I'm Mando'ade. I live shereshoy, and I have a type.”

The sound built, rolling up his chest. Caldus tensed his shoulders like he might throw a punch. “And what is that?”

”Strength,” Fynta answered simply, getting the word out before he escalated. She had no reason to be ashamed of her preferences. Male or female, Fynta had always been a sucker for anyone who could put her on her shebs in a fight. While she hadn’t tested it, Caldus fit that description. 

When the Cathar raised both brows, Fynta forced a grin. “I like people who can go toe to toe with me. Shereshoy. Any day could be my last, so I’m going to live like it is.” When Caldus opened his mouth, Fynta held up a hand. “That said, I’ll do my best to rein in the flirting for you.”

The steady rumble stilled, but Caldus's eyes narrowed. Fynta took another step back and lifted her hands where he could see them, yielding this particular argument. “You are your own man, Caldus. I won’t let anyone take that from you.”

”Not even you,” Caldus spat, though Fynta thought his tone might have carried a little less malice.

With a smile that echoed none of the lecherous thoughts she’d entertained before, Fynta thrust her hand into the space between them. “Especially me. Be’mev, vod.”

Caldus snapped his mouth shut when the door opened to reveal Altan. He had his face buried in the datapad as he walked, oblivious to the tension between her and his brother. With a huff, Caldus gripped Fynta’s forearm in a truce, then flopped back onto his bed and collected the knife and block. She called it as much of a win as she was likely to get.

“How do you think it got out?” Altan asked as he wove through the piles of electronics he’d left behind.

Fynta picked up his line of thought as a sort of peace offering to Caldus. He clearly didn’t want to discuss whatever brewed between them, so Fynta shoved it to the side for when it became a problem again. “Did anyone else notice the lightning? That reeks of Sith.”

”But were they attacking it or helping it escape?” Caldus added. Now that he wasn’t snarling like a deranged akk hound, his timbre had settled back into that lovely combination of gritty calm. Fynta forced herself not to think about it.

Instead, she settled into her professional hunter persona and pretended to be a responsible adult.  “We can’t rule either out, which means once we land, no one goes out without their armour.” The last line she aimed at Altan, who glanced up long enough to nod. 

“I’ve been monitoring Nar Shaddaa’s local news network and there haven’t been any instances of monster sightings.” Altan returned his attention to the screen, folding himself back onto the floor. “You’d think a Dashade would stand out.”

“You’ll understand when we get there,” Fynta laughed and settled into one of the chairs with her duffle. There was a small folding table behind it, and she set about arranging her solvents to begin maintenance. Caldus had given her blasters a rushed cleaning at the range before they left Dromund Kaas, but Fynta wanted to make sure they were ready when she needed them. Knowing there was possibly a Sith involved changed the way they needed to approach this mission. “Have either of you fought a Sith?”

As Fynta settled into the familiar rhythm of dismantling her weapons, Caldus answered without looking up from his carving. From stolen glances, all Fynta could make out was that it was cylindrical. “Some religious nuts on Rishi are as close as we’ve seen. They usually keep to their part of the island though.” 

“Shea had that run in with a couple last year,” Altan added. “Half the jungle was on fire before they went down. Luckily, it was monsoon season.”

Fynta smirked at the image Altan painted. Clan Vizla’s leader had a reputation for being fiery. From Altan’s recounting, it sounded earned. “Whatever you do,” Fynta continued as she lifted the barrel to peer down it for evidence of missed grime. “Don’t hesitate.”

[jasontoddsguns]

“I did not fucking say that” <— the dialogue option that was choosen wasn’t what the actual dialogue said

[cinlat]

The Weight of Beskar - Ch 12: Truce

Summary: Fynta and Caldus finally come to a head and are forced to enter into a shaky truce for Altan's sake. Oh, and there is plot… Chapter Word Count: 3,295 Chapter Rating: T Ao3 Link

Fynta might have been more excited about Altan’s new armour than he was. Still, she’d seen more smiles from the Togruta in the last few hours than the entire trip combined. They were back on the floor while he put the finishing touches on her new helmet and she explored his tools without touching them. Fynta opened her mouth to ask more about growing up on Rishi when the door snapped open.

Caldus staggered in, took one look at them seated on the floor and bared his teeth. Fynta had a feeling she was going to see a lot of those teeth before this job was over. “You two look cozy,” the Cathar grumbled, one hand pressed to the wall. A brown bag dangled from the other, and the clink from within told her everything she needed to know about its contents.

A single glance at Altan told Fynta this wasn’t unusual. Fynta had read somewhere that a Cathar’s metabolism rivaled that of even her clansmen when it came to alcohol. The sheer volume he’d have to drink to reach his current state must have put a decent sized dent in the yacht’s supply. She hoped he left some for the rest of them.

A heavy silence filled the room while Caldus glared and Altan tinkered. Standing, Fynta dropped the datapad in Altan’s lap so he could complete the final touches on his armour request. “I’m going to hit the fresher.” She could see a brewing sibling-type argument in Caldus’s eyes and didn’t want to get involved.

Caldus tracked Fynta all the way to the fresher, his molten eyes burning with disdain until they vanished behind the closed door. She didn’t bother pretending that she wasn’t going to listen and pressed her ear to the hollow material in time to hear the Cathar’s rumbling growl. 

“You got a crush on her?” A loud thump indicated that Caldus had made it to the bed.

Altan’s answer was softer, almost ashamed. “She’s our ally. There is no point in alienating her.”

”She’s a fucking human.” The venom behind those words painted a clear picture. Verin had told Fynta about the Cathar’s comment to Cinlat. That it was better being feared in beskar than a slave to Imperials. 

“She’s using you,” Caldus spat, followed by the rattle of bottles. “Don’t let your guard down.”

”She’s not the one treating me like a child,” Altan snapped, then took a deep breath. “I’m an asset to her, not someone she had to protect.”

Caldus’s snarled response was too low to translate through the fresher door. Fynta decided to make her entrance while Altan was still brave enough to face off with his brother. She imagined being a quiet man in Clan Vizla meant his opinions were often drowned out by their noise. 

Throwing open the door, Fynta stretched as she crossed the room. She ignored Caldus’s glare and reclaimed her seat on the floor next to Altan. He offered her the datapad, eyes still fixed on his brother, and Fynta sent the armour request to Solus. Caldus sat forward, his knee jabbing into Fynta’s shoulder. She gave it a shove and the grumpy bastard spread out more. 

”Now that everyone is here,” Fynta started, refusing to look at the Cathar. “Shall we go over these files?” 

That got Caldus’s attention at least. Altan’s too. 

They stopped glaring at one another long enough to move closer to her. Fynta opened the holo program on her datapad and entered the password that Keeper had included in their hiring packet. “Where should we start?”

Altan reached forward, hesitating until Fynta moved the datapad closer to him, then scanned through the items. “There were four other teams before us, one was an Imperial Spec Ops group. There should be body-cam footage.”

A few more swipes, and the Togruta’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Nothing. That’s odd.” Even with full access, the contract was vague. Altan’s brows drew together. “Just this file from nearly a month ago, no label.”

”Play it,” Caldus rumbled, dropping what Fynta realized was an empty beer bottle onto the floor beside her. He sighed and leaned over her shoulder to see the screen. “Maybe it will show us what we’re up against.” 

Caldus’s thigh pushed against Fynta’s shoulder, but she refused to be moved. The haze of alcohol seemed to clear from his eyes by the second, leaving Fynta impressed with how quickly the man sobered, maybe even a little jealous.

Tapping the file, Fynta ignored the blatant posturing at her back and focused on the shaky images of a dark room. “Is that flashing light a marquee?” Altan asked, brown eyes narrowed at the screen. 

Fynta hadn’t considered the lighting, she was too focused on the figures within the smoke-filled space. Sure enough, it flashed through a series of neon colors consistent with advert boards. “Whatever this is, it's been on Nar Shaddaa the entire time.” It was a small clue, but helped establish a timeline and sequence of events. If their quarry had been there from the beginning, then it was unlikely her small team needed to watch the spaceport. 

Fynta started to nudge Altan’s shoulder, then settled for a smile. “Good catch.”

The scene illuminated, triggering a hiss from Caldus, but Fynta was transfixed. “That looked like lightning.” A mountainous creature stepped into frame briefly, snarling words Fynta couldn’t translate, but she swore she felt the vibrations through the feed. Curses filled the audio, accompanied by blaster fire from multiple directions, then the feed cut out. 

They sat there staring at the blank screen. Thirty seconds of chaos and nightmare fuel, but no answers. Finally, Cladus voiced what they were all thinking. ”What the fuck was that?” 

“May I?” Altan asked, palm open and stretched towards Fynta. 

She relinquished the datapad and leaned closer to Altan while he scrolled manually through the footage. It meant she leaned against his shoulder, but the Togruta didn’t tense this time, so Fynta didn’t back up. She wanted to see what his eye had caught that hers missed. 

Altan’s finger slid slowly along the motion bar, pausing on the half revealed monstrosity. It looked like nothing Fynta had seen before. Yellow skin stretched across slabs of thick muscle that made Caldus look ordinary. It was the red glowing eyes and vicious looking fangs that captured Fynta’s attention, though. 

“I think…” Altan rubbed his mouth, the lines of his brows pulling together. “I think it's a Dashade.”

“A what?” Fynta and Caldus asked in unison. They shared a look, his irritated and hers probably irritating. 

Altan ignored them, transfixed by that blurry image. “An ancient creature on the verge of extinction.” 

Setting the footage aside, Altan collected his personal device and scrolled until he landed on what he was looking for. When he turned it towards them, Caldus leaned over Fynta, his breath a distraction against her neck. The Cathar had made his distaste for humans clear, but that didn’t stop her from appreciating the mountain of man at her back. 

“They are Force resistant,” Altan explained, pulling the datapad back to himself when neither of his companions looked at the information it displayed. “I remember reading about them a few years back when I was studying Sith Ancestry. Once a mighty warrior species turned assassins for the Sith.”

A low rumble vibrated against Fynta’s shoulder and she was sure it did not have the desired effect. Thankfully, Caldus didn’t seem to notice. “So they fucked around with a Dashade. Now it’s loose. Fantastic.” The Cathar chuffed and straightened, leaving Fynta chilled without his inhuman body heat. 

“It’s flesh and blood, just like anything else.” Fynta took a shaky breath and forced herself to focus on the real threat in the room instead of her hormones. Though, capturing the thing alive looked like a distant priority now. Dead with proof might have to be enough. 

”It’s also an endangered species,” Altan argued, his voice firming the same way it had when they discussed his skill with a rifle. “Whatever they did to him is not his fault.”

Fynta saw the heart of a boy, then. The young man who’d somehow remained gentle despite the way he’d come into his family. She risked a look at Caldus, and for once, didn’t find fury in those bright eyes. The Cathar ran a hand down his face and sighed. “It might not be its fault, but it still needs to be put down.”

“Why?” Altan jabbed a finger at the screen. “Because whoever created it says so?” 

Before either of them could answer, the Togruta shoved to his feet with unnatural grace. “I need to stretch my legs.”

Caldus started to stand, but Fynta elbowed his calf and shook her head. To her surprise, the grumpy Cathar flopped back onto the mattress. She waited until Altan was clear of the door before adding more. “Let him sort out his feelings. I have faith that he’ll do the right thing when the time comes.”

“He’s been like that since I’ve known him.” Caldus snorted. “Protect the ant hill, feed the strays, rescue the downtrodden. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it extends to monsters.”

Climbing to her feet, Fynta arched her back until her spine popped, then looked around. “Hey, where’d you put those beers?” She found them before Caldus could answer and snagged one from the bag next to his boot.

The Cathar settled against the headboard of his bed, golden eyes focusing on her with a predator's intensity. “Those are mine.” 

”Right,” Fynta smacked the top of the bottle against a ridge on her prosthetic with a grin. Then, she lifted it in cheers. “Thanks.”

A long breath escaped through Caldus’s nostrils as he produced a blade. Fynta lifted a brow at the open threat, then added the other when a block of foam appeared next. “Since I’m sober now, hand me one too.”

Fynta obliged, setting the bottle on the table that separated their beds. Long curls of foam drifted into the cloth spread across Caldus’s lap. Those massive hands with their sharp claws cradled the foam block with practiced care. Fynta wondered what it would become, and if he’d show her when it was finished.

Fynta must have hovered too long because Caldus slowly raised his eyes. “What?” 

“How much can you drink before you feel it?” Fynta propped her shoulder against the wall, pretending that she wasn’t more interested in what he was creating. If she asked directly, the stubborn Cathar would shut down and she’d never find out what it was.

Caldus must have read the challenge between Fynta’s words, because he flashed a few too many teeth to be friendly. “Don’t try it, human. You wouldn’t survive.”

Fynta renewed her grin, pleased to have an interaction that didn’t involve snarls—yet. “Don’t you know it’s instinctual for a Mandalorian to push her limits?” To prove her point, Fynta let her gaze slip down Caldus’s body. Even with his back to the wall, the man’s feet nearly reached the end of the bed. One of his thighs was as large as her waist, and fierfek, those arms.

A snarl rolled through Caldus, snapping Fynta’s attention up to his eyes. His teeth were bared, those burning embers filled with more rage than she deserved. Fynta was rarely innocent, but she hadn’t even begun to be a big enough pain in Caldus’s ass to warrant that glare. Then, the Cathar’s chest expanded, nostrils flaring in a deliberate inhale.

Shab.

The curse had barely rolled through her mind before the realization landed. Cathar senses were legendary, which meant there was a real chance that Caldus could scent exactly where her thoughts had wandered.

Caldus clicked his teeth, eyes narrowed. Finally, Fynta understood.

The tension between them pulled taut, nothing but the hum of the yacht’s engines to fill the silence. She took a step closer, and Caldus rumbled another warning. Testing her limits was fun, but this felt different. She wasn’t just annoying him, she was provoking. That had never been the plan.

Raising her hands, Fynta steadied her voice to hide the pounding of her heart. “Listen, we need to get this sorted before we get to Nar Shaddaa.”

Caldus didn’t hesitate. “Sort what out?” Judging by the Cathar’s tone, he understood and was being an ass. 

”This.” Fynta gestured between them, refusing to rise to the bait. “Whatever this animosity is.” Though, she supposed she couldn’t blame the man. Not if her suspicion was true and he could physically scent her moods. Fierfek, that was going to complicate things. 

Fynta continued before Caldus could speak. “Otherwise, someone is going to get hurt. With our luck, it’ll be Altan.”

Caldus was off his bed in a heartbeat, and Fynta nearly flinched back. She caught herself at the last moment and forced a glare up at the Cathar. She’d faced deadlier men than him. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her unbalanced. Altan was a trigger though, that she filed away for later.

Chest heaving, Caldus straightened to full height, blade and foam block forgotten on his bed, the shavings he’d meticulously collected scattered across the floor. “I don’t trust humans,” he managed between gritted teeth. Fynta didn’t miss the symbolism of his discarded weapon either. He could kill her without one. She let that slide off her without acknowledgment. 

”That’s probably fair,” Fynta agreed, lifting an eyebrow in challenge when he leaned into her personal space. Each interaction gave her more of his measure. Caldus used his size and species to intimidate, trying to crowd her out. It was a brute tactic mostly likely learned at the hands of brutes.

Fynta took a step closer, intentionally invading the Cathar’s space to show that she wouldn’t be so easily cowed. “Are you willing to risk Altan’s safety over it?” When Caldus tipped his head, their faces now inched apart, Fynta continued. “We are going up against a veritable myth, something I didn’t even know existed until ten minutes ago. You and I need to be in sync, trust each other to do the job we were hired for. If you can’t manage that alongside a human, then sell your portion of the contract and go home.”

Finally, Caldus relaxed his posture, straightening without relinquishing the gap between them. Those same fingers that held the foam so carefully now curled into tight fists at his sides. He took a shaky breath.  “What do you suggest?”

Fynta wasn’t interested in a game of dominance, she just wanted to know if it all went to osik, he’d have her back. So, she took a step away, releasing the tension in her shoulders and legs so that her stance matched his. They entered an awkward stalemate of sorts. “Apart from being human, what am I doing to piss you off?”

That shabbing lip pulled back again, but the answer carried more honesty than Fynta expected. “The way you look at me, it reminds me of them.” 

Fynta had no concrete evidence who them was, but given the pieces of conversation she’d managed to drag out of the surly bastard she assumed his owners; human owners. Another piece of the puzzle dropped into place and she didn’t like the picture it built. Because the way she looked at him had nothing to do with possession, but appreciation of an impressive physique. 

“Shab.” The word slipped out, hot rage flooding Fynta’s system. Another growl started somewhere deep inside Caldus, but she spoke before he could interpret her outrage as pity. “Listen, I'm Mando'ade. I live shereshoy, and I have a type.”

The sound built, rolling up his chest. Caldus tensed his shoulders like he might throw a punch. “And what is that?”

”Strength,” Fynta answered simply, getting the word out before he escalated. She had no reason to be ashamed of her preferences. Male or female, Fynta had always been a sucker for anyone who could put her on her shebs in a fight. While she hadn’t tested it, Caldus fit that description. 

When the Cathar raised both brows, Fynta forced a grin. “I like people who can go toe to toe with me. Shereshoy. Any day could be my last, so I’m going to live like it is.” When Caldus opened his mouth, Fynta held up a hand. “That said, I’ll do my best to rein in the flirting for you.”

The steady rumble stilled, but Caldus's eyes narrowed. Fynta took another step back and lifted her hands where he could see them, yielding this particular argument. “You are your own man, Caldus. I won’t let anyone take that from you.”

”Not even you,” Caldus spat, though Fynta thought his tone might have carried a little less malice.

With a smile that echoed none of the lecherous thoughts she’d entertained before, Fynta thrust her hand into the space between them. “Especially me. Be’mev, vod.”

Caldus snapped his mouth shut when the door opened to reveal Altan. He had his face buried in the datapad as he walked, oblivious to the tension between her and his brother. With a huff, Caldus gripped Fynta’s forearm in a truce, then flopped back onto his bed and collected the knife and block. She called it as much of a win as she was likely to get.

“How do you think it got out?” Altan asked as he wove through the piles of electronics he’d left behind.

Fynta picked up his line of thought as a sort of peace offering to Caldus. He clearly didn’t want to discuss whatever brewed between them, so Fynta shoved it to the side for when it became a problem again. “Did anyone else notice the lightning? That reeks of Sith.”

”But were they attacking it or helping it escape?” Caldus added. Now that he wasn’t snarling like a deranged akk hound, his timbre had settled back into that lovely combination of gritty calm. Fynta forced herself not to think about it.

Instead, she settled into her professional hunter persona and pretended to be a responsible adult.  “We can’t rule either out, which means once we land, no one goes out without their armour.” The last line she aimed at Altan, who glanced up long enough to nod. 

“I’ve been monitoring Nar Shaddaa’s local news network and there haven’t been any instances of monster sightings.” Altan returned his attention to the screen, folding himself back onto the floor. “You’d think a Dashade would stand out.”

“You’ll understand when we get there,” Fynta laughed and settled into one of the chairs with her duffle. There was a small folding table behind it, and she set about arranging her solvents to begin maintenance. Caldus had given her blasters a rushed cleaning at the range before they left Dromund Kaas, but Fynta wanted to make sure they were ready when she needed them. Knowing there was possibly a Sith involved changed the way they needed to approach this mission. “Have either of you fought a Sith?”

As Fynta settled into the familiar rhythm of dismantling her weapons, Caldus answered without looking up from his carving. From stolen glances, all Fynta could make out was that it was cylindrical. “Some religious nuts on Rishi are as close as we’ve seen. They usually keep to their part of the island though.” 

“Shea had that run in with a couple last year,” Altan added. “Half the jungle was on fire before they went down. Luckily, it was monsoon season.”

Fynta smirked at the image Altan painted. Clan Vizla’s leader had a reputation for being fiery. From Altan’s recounting, it sounded earned. “Whatever you do,” Fynta continued as she lifted the barrel to peer down it for evidence of missed grime. “Don’t hesitate.”

[kunoichi-ume]

Cloak & Blaster Chapter 11

Ao3 Link

Summary: The Sith Temple is very much not abandoned, Noara is hearing voices and Mako get's more points to argue that Jedi are scary.

Word Count: 4,049

It was slow going, navigating the terrain that was a mixture of wild, untamed nature and broken, overgrown bits of what was once an elaborate series of stairs and courtyards. What was really surprising was the sheer number of people milling about, all obviously under the Sith spirit’s control. Some were acting erratically, others were visibly tainted and she saw one who was lording over the people around him like he was a Sith Lord himself - regardless of the slave collar still attached to his throat. 

The temple was set back in a deep recess between cliffs and was not visible until they had made their way up several broken sets of stairs and around a bend. It was massive, easily larger than the Jedi Temple on Tython. It was an imposing building, tall, dark and blocky. It stood out menacingly against the dark sky with each of the frequent lightning flashes that had never let up. 

Noara couldn’t see Mako but she could feel the other woman standing close by before hearing her soft whisper.

“Well that isn’t creepy or anything.”

“Not at all,” Noara said with a soft laugh. “Do you still want to go on?”

“You aren’t getting rid of me that easily. I’m with you all the way,” Mako said before sighing. “You know, Nar Shaddaa was nothing like this, there is nothing sentimental about there. If something’s old and unused, it gets knocked down and built over, usually with a casino.”

Noara felt a swell of affection for the other woman. She could tell Mako was uncomfortable and probably a little scared, truth be told she was more than a little nervous about entering the temple, so it meant a lot that Mako wouldn’t let her go on alone. She also appreciated the obvious attempt to lighten the somber mood. 

“Somehow I don’t think a casino would do very well out here.”

Mako scoffed, “nah, not enough neon out here.”

With a deep breath and a silent plea to the Force to protect them, Noara led the way into the Sith Temple. The entrance was a long corridor, easily wide enough for 15 people to stand shoulder to shoulder. They followed it up two sets of stairs before reaching a large, open area with massive columns throughout the room. 

Noara stopped to take in the room. It was daunting to say the least, far larger than it appeared from outside as if the temple extended into the walls of the cliffs surrounding it. The columns had status at their base and on the opposite side of the room was a truly colossal state that could only be of the Emperor. It was a terrifying future, screaming to the sky above and glowing an eerie green in the dim light. From somewhere above light was steaming into the room, further highlighting the Emperor in the dim space.

It was entirely horrible, as she had expected, but in some ways it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. For a previously abandoned ancient mausoleum it was remarkably clean. She had an amusing thought about the Sith spirits making their newly acquired servants dust away the filth of a thousand years and had to bite her lip not to laugh. 

While it was not dusty and filled with cobwebs as she might have imagined, the air itself felt thick and dark. The faint whispers Noara had only been able to detect with concentration earlier were far louder now. It whispered to her that she was someone else, ‘welcoming’ her home. 

Throughout the space there were small groupings of people, all as obviously possessed and confused as those they had encountered outside. Noara didn't know who Imperial Intelligence thought the temple was a secret from but it obviously wasn't a well kept one. She wondered if they would still be affected by the Sith’s power if they were somehow brought outside the temple, or were all these people lost?

“Your power is formidable. Soon it will serve me well,” a voice that managed to sound both malicious and melodic whispered in her ear. She could almost feel the hot, rancid breath of the Sith speaking to her on her neck. She batted her hand near her ear, knowing she wouldn’t feel anything but unable to stop the instinctive reaction. 

To her horror she heard the Sith laugh in response to her action. “Why do you resist little Jedi? It would be so much easier to give in.”

Doing her best to ignore the presence at her side, Noara turned toward where she could sense Mako’s presence. “Any luck with those tracking beacons Medle told us about?” 

The Intelligence officer had informed them that the temple was large but now, having seen it, she felt he was still downplaying it. Searching it for one man, or corpse, could take weeks if not longer. Thankfully it was standard procedure for Intelligence agents to be implanted with a trace marker so they could be found if they were captured. 

Or hunted down if they displeasured their handlers. 

“Depends on your definition of luck,” Mako said. “I can trace them but there is a lot of interference here. I might be able to clear up the signal but it will take some time to process.”

“Okay, can you do that while we move? Or do we need to find a safe-ish corner to hunker down in?”

“Are you really trying to ignore me, little Jedi?” the Sith spirit asked and she did her best not to react at all. It would be preferable if the spirit hadn’t realized she was a Jedi but she wasn’t surprised it had uncovered her secret. 

“Yeah, I can set it to run in the background.” Mako answered, “let’s find that torch and seal some tombs.”

Moving carefully, Noara led Mako around the room as they searched for the crate that Alaric said the plasma torch was in. The entire time they searched Noara pointedly ignored the voice whispering in her ear. She would hope the spirit would get bored but being dead was bound to grant any being patience after enough time. 

They had started walking along the perimeter of the room and had made it about three quarters of the way, peeking into any box or crate they encountered, when they found the plasma torch. It didn’t look much different than an oversized blaster but thankfully the box had been clearly labeled. 

“According to what Alaric said the tombs we need to seal should be on the second floor, I assume that means the balcony there?” Noara pointed above them before remembering that Mako couldn’t actually see her. This would be far easier if the abandoned temple was actually abandoned. 

Once they had the torch and carefully made their way to the top floor the task turned out to be rather easy. The biggest challenge was avoiding the possessed explorers and soldiers patrolling around. Thankfully they were also not the most aware, as if a side effect of their possession was diminished senses. When they found the first door it bore burn scars as though someone tried to cut through it but was unsuccessful as the door remained solid. 

“Here’s the first tomb,” Noara said, checking that they were out of sight before turning off the stealth generator. The action of sealing the door would surely deactivate it and she figured it was better not to waste the power cells. 

Mako, now able to see the plasma torch in her hands, was inspecting it. “This looks easy enough to use, but it might draw some attention. You watch my back and I’ll have this sealed in no time.” Firing up the torch, she started working on welding the door’s seal closed. The torch gave off a steady hum and the noise increased as the flame came into contact with the door. 

Removing both sabers from her belt, Noara doesn’t activate them but it made her feel better to be ready. She can see the closest group of possessed beings milling around several dozen feet away. Any other time she would expect to be seen but it was clear how confused and oblivious to their presence. It was obvious at least at some level the local authorities knew there were people trapped here and she had a bad feeling there was no intention of getting them out. It was cruel to leave these people, many who she could see still wore slave collars and therefore did not choose to enter the temple, to potentially wither and die here. 

Was there even food supplies here? Drinking water? Were the spirits controlling them seeing to those needs? She had a sickening suspicion that they were not. 

It would be kinder for the Sith to kill them all, spare them that fate and deprive the dark spirits of their thralls, she thought, even as she was appalled by the idea. 

“Give in to urges Jedi. It would be so easy,” the Sith spirit drawled in her ear, “you said it yourself, they would be better off dead than left to a slow decay as mindless puppets.”

Goosebumps sprung up on her arms, despite the balmy air in the temple. The spirit’s words confirmed her suspicion that at least some of her thoughts were not safe from its reach. Taking a deep breath, Noara cleared her thoughts. A lifetime of meditation sessions usually made it easy to find that place but here, with the turbulent darkness that permeated the very air, it was more difficult. 

“I love to watch you struggle against the inevitable, you will see things my way little Jedi.”

Noara focused on her breathing, remembering the words of Master Nannin. ‘It is natural for the mind to wander. When you notice thoughts, simply acknowledge them and gently return focus to your breathing.’ While her mind wasn’t exactly wandering, it was the same concept. She mentally acknowledged the Sith’s words but didn’t let them linger. 

Thankfully it did not take Mako much longer to get the tomb sealed and, since her implants were still working on the tracking beacons they headed to the second tomb. It was directly across from the first and, with the generator, it was easy to get to and repeat the same process. 

It was not until they reached the third, and final, tomb Alaric had asked them to seal that that something unexpected occurred. The moment Noara approached there was a humming sound as a device embedded in the door activated. She had drawn her sabers, ready to fend off whatever attack was imminent. 

However, instead of a weapon, the device appeared to be a holoprojector. Standing before them was a projection of an older human male in elaborate robes, complete with curved horns from his hood and oversized pauldrons. He looked directly at Noara and started speaking before she could even think to try and figure out how to turn it off. 

“Hello, stranger. My internal chronometer tells me it has been exactly 963 years since this hologram was made. Have the Sith truly lived in fear of me for so long?”

Realizing it wasn’t just a pre-recorded message and actually waiting for a response Noara decided it didn’t hurt to find out what she was dealing with. “I’m not sure who you are so I have no idea if the Sith fear you.”

The hologram smiled, “I am, or was, Kel'eth Ur, a born Sith and follower of the Force. Like so many before me, I challenged the Emperor and was buried in this temple. Fortunately, I had just enough time to make this--an interactive image that would transmit my secrets to whomever was bold enough to find my tomb and unlock it.”

“What secrets do you have that the Sith would fear?” Mako asked before Noara could.

“It is what Sith do.” His answer was simple, like it was a fact of life “their passions, their fear especially, feed their power--a power that inspires yet more fear.”

That tracked well enough with Noara’s lessons about the Sith and the Darkside. Fear of all things, of death, of losing attachments, those were some of the first steps to the Dark Side according to her masters. 

“I can’t say if the Sith fear you specifically,” Noara admitted, “but the one who sent us here fears the spirits in this temple. We were sent by one to seal this tomb for good.”

Kel'eth Ur’s image shook his head, “then it's true. The Sith still cower in fear of insignificant me. The way of the Sith lies in channeling the Force through the use of powerful emotions. Fear is the chief of these. The Sith feed on palpable dread.”

Noara frowned, “that doesn’t sound like a secret to me.”

“And what if I told you it was all lies? Fear is a lie. Passion, a lie. Fear gives temporary power, and passion is easily manipulated. Real strength in the Force comes when one is no longer afraid. And one can purge fear when one stops grasping--after power, after things, after life itself--and allows the Force to guide him. There is only the Force.”

A light breeze could have knocked Noara over, she was that surprised. The last thing she thought his “secret” could be was Jedi teachings. Curious how he would respond, she asked the same question every Jedi youngling does when they are first introduced to the Jedi code. “What do you mean, "there's only the Force"?”

Kel'eth Ur gestured around them, “just that--everything there is, life and death alike, is wrapped up in the Force. What I learned only lives on through this image and its device. Yet, I am one with the Force, eternal and at peace.”

She wasn’t able to resist commenting, “that sounds rather like Jedi philosophy.”

Kel’eth Ur’s visage nodded grimly, “yes and that is what truly scares the Sith. Sith philosophy claims to break its followers' chains, but instead traps them in their own fear. Jedi do not give in to fear, they release it into the Force. They forget our history, how once there were no Sith or Jedi, just followers of the Force. Take them--take my teachings to the Sith. They will find power there, but a different kind--not of darkness, but light.”

With that last bit of direction the hologram winked out of existence and Noara turned to look at Mako. “This is what the Sith are scared will threaten the entire galaxy? A light sided Sith? The man partially quoted the Jedi Code.”

Mako shrugged, “I told you Jedi are scary. Are you going to take his holocron?”

Noara considered it for a moment. It would be amusing to give the holocron to Alaric, seeing how scared he actually was of the Light, though that would probably result in the device’s destruction. It would also be of great interest to the researchers at the temple on Tython. 

“I think I will but let’s not tell the Sith,” she said, having reached a decision before smiling. “We wouldn’t want to scare him.” Once Noara had removed the holocron and tucked it into her bag, Mako welded the tomb shut for good measure.

“Guess we don’t need this anymore,” Mako said, setting the plasma torch down on the steps leaning to the tomb door. “And just in time too, my implants located Commander Gargu’s tracking beacon.”

Noara smiled, glad they could finally address their true purpose here. There were so many things that felt off in the ancient building and she wondered if they had been inside longer than they realized. No matter how long it had been, it would be a relief to leave the malevolent temple.

Instead of retracing their steps to take the same helical ramp to the main floor, Noara and Mako headed for the one closest to Kel'eth Ur’s tomb. As they had traveled through the temple it was obvious the building had held up remarkably well over the years but that was not true everywhere. The stone here showed visible signs of aging with crumbling rock and deep cracks across the floor. They had to make their way carefully, but it wasn’t until they were near the middle that the ramp started to actually feel unstable. Noara only had a second’s warning to turn toward Mako before the ramp collapsed beneath them. 

The stealth generator failed as they fell and Noara was able to see Mako’s face, fear clear in her wide eyes. There was no time to reassure her companion that they would be alright. Using the Force to slow something falling wasn’t as difficult as levitation, instead of fighting against gravity to lift herself and Mako she was gently lowering them toward the floor, but it did take effort and concentration. The stone that had made up the ramp crashed to the ground beneath them with a thunderous boom. 

Noara’s hand, stretched out in Mako’s direction, shook with the effort of holding them aloft. As the rubble below them settled she lowered them to the ground. As soon as she let go of the hold she had with the Force she collapsed to her knees, gasping for air, limbs shaking from the exertion. 

Slowly she became aware of Mako’s sitting next to her repeating “oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck” under her breath. 

Looking up she reached out and put her hand on the other woman’s arm. “Are you okay?”

Mako nodded before shaking her head, “yes no, I don’t know. Did you really just stop us from falling?”

“Yeah,” Noara said, “still think my Jedi powers are scary?”

“Terrifying,” Mako said with a breathless laugh. She started to say something else but was cut off by the retort of a blaster shot hitting the stone debris around them. “Shit,” she said ducking down.

Noara ducked down as well, turning to look toward the doorway. There were several of the possessed Imperials on the other side of the debris, at least one had a blaster and was taking shots in their direction but the others seemed to be looking for a way to reach them. 

“We have company,” she said unnecessarily as another blaster shot hit the rock near her. Noara pulled her blaster and saw that Mako had done the same. “I’ll take the ones on the left,” she said, “you get the right.”

Mako, still looking a bit shaken, shot her a bewildered look. “Are you actually going to use that?”

Noara wanted to laugh but shot that landed close enough to shower her in razor sharp stone shards. Carefully she looked over the section of floor she was taking cover behind and aimed. She could hear Mako’s blaster firing as she started shooting. It seemed like the noise of the collapsing ramp had drawn more attention because there were twice the number of people in the doorway than when she had looked previously. 

Noara focused her fire on the Imperials that were shooting at them, taking three down in quick succession but while she had been paying attention to them two possessed slaves, collars still clamped around their necks, had managed to cross the debris and reach them. Hopping backwards to avoid a hit from the techstaff one had swung at her, Noara dropped her blaster and drew her lightsabers. 

The techstaves, and their wielders, were no match for an armed Jedi. As they fell, Noara looked over at Mako. “Can you cover me?”

“I got you,” Mako said, “I'm not just the pretty sidekick ya know?” She had already taken out most of the imperials armed with blasters on her side. Noara was impressed both at her accuracy and the ability to throw out one-liners in the midst of a fight. 

Assured that her friend could handle herself, Noara leapt over the debris toward their attackers. A wide arc of her main saber took out one as she landed and she quickly fell into a rhythm. Thrust, slash, lunge, thrust. Parry a stray bolt. It brought her back to the time she spent in Kalikori Village, fending off Flesh Raiders  as they attacked en masse. 

The possessed troopers and slaves were no match for her abilities or Mako’s accuracy with her blaster and Noara felt they had this easily in hand when something struck her. Hard. Noara was airborne for a brief moment before she collided with the wall. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of her lungs and for longer than she liked she was stunned, slumped on the floor and gasping for air. Her saber hilts clattered to the floor, blades disengaging when she lost her grip on them. 

Even as her mind tried to piece together what happened, Noara became aware of a figure advancing on her. Looking up she saw a deathly pale woman wearing heavy dark robes. The flash of yellow in her eyes sparked recognition. Sith. She hadn’t expected any of the possessed beings to be Sith, assuming they would be able to ward off the invasive spirits as she had but perhaps they hadn’t tried? Perhaps to a Sith the dark whispers in their mind were a welcome intrusion?

Pushing to her feet, Noara summoned her weapons back to her hands. She had activated them just in time to parry the Sith’s blade. She kept the pressure up, pushing back against the glowing red blade while thrusting her offhand saber toward the Sith’s torso. The Sith dodged, breaking the contact between them and backing up a few steps. Noara advanced, lunging forward with her blade. 

The Sith blocked her strike, answering with a Force push that almost knocked her off her feet again. However this time Noara was expecting it and managed to keep her balance, even as her boots slid several feet across the dusty floor. Deciding it was time to try something else, Noara focused on one of the large stones from the rubble and flung it at the Sith. While the Sith was distracted by the projectile she thumbed off the dead man’s switch on her saber - the safety feature that was responsible for it deactivating when she dropped it earlier - and she threw it. 

One of her combat Masters had always hated the technique, stating she had never seen a good reason to lose control of one’s weapon, but now as it flew through the air and directly into the Sith’s sternum Noara felt a measure of vindication. The Sith collapsed with a strangled gurgle and, once assured that the fight was over, Noara looked around to face the next threat only to find that Mako had cleared out the rest of the attackers. 

After retrieving her saber and deactivating it, Noara lowered herself to sit on her haunches and focused on catching her breath. The exertion of breaking their fall followed immediately by battle had taken a toll. She looked up as Mako was climbing over the debris to join her. 

“You good?” she asked, her voice still a little breathless, as she stood.

“I am. I told you I was a good shot. Are you?”

Noara nodded, “I am and I never doubted you for a minute. Just give me a moment to breathe and take an energy stim. If we run into another fight we can’t avoid, I'll need it.”

Mako frowned as she pulled one of the stim injectors out of her bag, “you are probably going to crash with how many of these you have taken, you know that right?”

“You’re right and at some point it will be safe to let myself crash and detox this out of my system, but right now it’s not ideal,” Noara said, taking the stim and injecting it into her leg. She shook her head as a shot of energy rushed through her system, making her momentarily lightheaded. Luckily it passed after a moment and she slipped the used injector into her own bag. Just because it was an ancient, semi-abandoned temple on a world crawling with Sith wasn’t an excuse to litter. 

Feeling ready to continue, Noara smiled in Mako’s direction. “What do you say we get that ID card and escape this accursed place?”

“I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

[cinlat]

Woot! So excited to see this one up.

[kunoichi-ume]

So tonight in "things I never noticed but probably should have" Tatooine in Swtor looks a lot like Southern Utah. Arches National Park to be specific.

It's been so long since I played this planet that I literally spent a whole day there last month and didn't make this connection. Really the main difference here is that Utah is covered in desert shrubs.

[cinlat]

Berek: Tattooine- excellent, I must go shopping. Wouldn't want to sunburn.

Fynta and every other Mando on the crew: Just wear the beskar you big idiot.

[robertreich]

As this week is marked by the 4th of July and the 250th anniversary of this country, it's worth remembering what real freedom looks like in 2026. Keep up the fight.

[blackheartbiohazards]

➡️ Content warnings on fiction are a courtesy. 

➡️ Not every medium of fiction and storytelling has or is expected to have content warnings or extensive tagging.

➡️ Print novels do not traditionally warn for content in any way.

➡️ Until AO3 came along, fanfiction did not traditionally warn for content in any significant way.

➡️ An author is only obligated to warn for content to the degree mandated by the format they publish their fiction on.

➡️ Content warnings beyond the minimum are a courtesy, not an obligation.

➡️ 'Creator chose not to warn' is a valid tag that authors are allowed to use on AO3. It means there could be anything in there and you have accepted the risk. 'May contain peanuts!'

➡️ Writers are allowed to use 'Creator chose not to warn' for any reason, including to maintain surprise and avoid spoilers.

➡️ 'Creator chose not to warn' is not the same thing as 'no archive warnings apply'.

➡️ It is your responsibility to protect yourself and close a book, or hit the back button if you find something in fiction that you're reading that upsets you.

➡️ You are responsible for protecting yourself from fiction that causes you discomfort.

[elismor]

That last one bears repetition.

You are responsible for protecting yourself from fiction that causes you discomfort.