>>5527222>>5527225>>5527250>>5527266>>5527279>>5527320>>5527402>>5527491>>5527402“You…backstabbing…koochu!” Sia-Lan draws her lightsaber with a look of pure fury, so enraged that she slips into Huttese.
“Help Master Darté!” you shout, igniting a second lightsaber. It joins the other, two lengths of bright gold that slice at a large shipping container. “This isn’t your fight, Sia-Lan!”
But no sooner do the halves fall away, Potkin emerges between the gap, clothes billowing in the wind and a mad gleam in her eyes. This time, she aims for the lightsabers instead of your stomach. The cortosis blade misses by the scantest inch as you trust your hand to <span class="mu-i">push</span> a cloud of dust into her face. It slows her down, but only just for you to make a hasty getaway.
“Stop this madness!” roars Farr. “We are divided enough-!”
“No, let them fight,” Arana grouses, “We’ll see in time which of them is right…”
But Potkin isn’t listening. She only has eyes for you…and further beyond, Vader.
This isn’t a duel. What this is resembles something closer to a cantina brawl than anything ever seen or taught in the halls of the Jedi Temple.
The old machinery affords some verticality. Drills that once bit into the walls, gouging out furrows to get into the tunnels where veins of spice had formed, or where the energy spiders made their nests. Cranes to lift supplies, excavators to lift dirt and trash into nearby hovercarts. Layers of dust are scattered in an instant with every step you take, every leap backwards that places you further away.
But “further away” is relative, and constantly in flux. For all her character faults, Potkin is every measure a Jedi Master. She’s fast, quick on her feet, and peruses you with an almost manic recklessness. All she’s showcasing in terms of Force ability is a crude hammer, but no less powerful.
Quickly, you notice that Potkin has two tactics – throw things at you, then close the distance with the cortosis blade. And beyond the first attack that was aimed at your body, she’s since switched to attacking your lightsabers. And Potkin is already moving by the time the last projectile races towards you, utilizing the sheer bulk of the incoming cargo to blindside you.
“Is this all that the Shadows have to show for themselves?” she screams. When she runs out of nearby crates, she switches to mag-lev carts stacked high with stone and debris. “You and your little sect of dark-robed skulkers failed to detect the Sith, failed all of the Jedi!”
<span class="mu-i">…there is no emotion, there is peace…</span>
…but you’d be a liar if you claimed that her words didn’t make your blood <span class="mu-i">boil</span>.
You throw one lightsaber. It spins in a graceful arc, cutting through debris before she can throw them. And in your empty hand, you call the lessons of Grand Shamanka Bos…
>>Please roll 2d12+3+8 (1d12 per Force Rating, Alter Bonus, +4 per rank in Force Fire)>Best out of three. 