Character Sheet Snapshots:
All signs leading to the Blacksmith had pointed to this spot, this musty, run-down old garage laced with the stench of smoke, sweat and chemicals, littered with spare parts and broken mechanics.
A blazing hole through the barrel of his repeating cannon had rendered the General’s main weapon useless. Reduced to his pistol and stranded on a hostile world, Zentru’la’s hand hovered over the weapon as he slowly made his way inside. It was a better armament than Lilina Mirin: the Miraluka beside him was completely unarmed, although her electric purple hair was the brightest thing in the garage. This was precisely when he could have done with some support but his team were scattered and even his ship was unavailable, the Harbinger along with its pilot had been whisked away by the on-board AI for their own protection.
A flash of movement in the corner, a staccato movement of a shape indistinct through the smoke and darkness. Zentru’la snapped into action, raising his pistol and scanning the room. “Who’s there?”’ his booming voice called to the darkness.
It was a blaster, not a voice that answered his call, potshots from behind cover as flashes of red light lit up the garage, bathing the broken machinery in a scarlet hue. Lilina swatted the bolts away with a wave of her hand, blending flashes of cyan among the red. “We come in peace,” the mystic said serenely.
A hulking Zabrak as big as Zentru’la himself leapt from cover, his pistol still raised. “Stay back, Mirin,” Zentru’la guided Lilina behind him with a powerful arm before he recognised the beast. “Bale? You’re alive! What in the blazes happened to your leg?”
“Your blasted Empress can’t let me retire in peace?” Bale spat with venom. The Zabrak roared a ferocious battlecry that shook the garage walls and charged at his former ally, firing as he went.
Zentru’la just had enough time to sidestep Bale’s charge as the blaster bolts crashed off his energy shield, raising his fists. Jab, cross, hook from the General. A slip, bob and weave from the Blacksmith. Bale darted under the twi’lek’s punching combination, attempting to wrestle him to the floor, but the mechanical leg lagged behind. Zentru’la dropped his weight into a powerful put some distance between himself and Bale.
“Calm down Bale!” Zentru’la growled. “Elincia is dead!”
in Bale’s moment of pause, Zentru’la took his arm with both hands, breaking his structure and sending him to the floor. “I said Elincia is dead.’’
Bale swiftly got back to his feet and picked up his blaster. “What happened? She was hard to kill. I didn’t like the witch but I respected that about her.”
“Long story.” As much as Zentru’la respected Bale, this wasn’t the time to go into the story of how and why he killed his daughter.
“So if you’re not here to kill me…”
“I’m here to get this fixed,” Zentru’la pointed to his broken cannon. “How was I supposed to know you were the Blacksmith? But I could use you on my team. No clan. No leaders. We pick our own battles and do things our own way. I could use someone like you. Like old times.”
Bale grinned for the first time. “That makes two of us. But looks like I’m a step ahead of you.” Zentru’la’s eyes panned the room.
Zehsaa Hysh had found Bale first, a legendary sniper that Zentru’la had the honour of serving with numerous times. “Like you said,” Zehsaa said, stepping up beside Bale. “Like old times. Good to see you again, General. Guess this saves on the awkward introductions.”
“Hey Zen!” A young Nautolan came in grinning ear to ear. It was impossible for Zentru’la to look at Aylin without remembering the time she encased him in battle droid armour and smuggled him into Collective territory as ‘Z3N’.
“I’m assuming your team is more than… err… an unarmed magic blind woman,” Bale teased.
“Lilina,” said Lilina.
“Whatever. You guys should join up with us. Help me take the Sentinel Station, and I’ll mend that for free,” he pointed at Zentru’la’s cannon.
Zentru’la tapped his commlink. “Change of plan, Rohla. We’re not fighting Taldryan anymore, we’re taking a medical station for them. Bring the Harbinger back to Chyron and join up with the Marauder attacking Sentinel Station.”
“So Zen, where’s Swords?” Aylin asked.
“I’m here,” said a rasping voice from the shadows on the borderline between synthetic and organic, a body almost entirely cybernetic other than his canine face, covered in short grey fur and framed by a thick mane of black hair. Masakado’s footsteps were silent as the cyborg infiltrator approached the group from within the garage, ignoring Bale’s snide comment to Zentru’la about having found a lap dog. “General, you were being followed."
Zentru’la turned on the spot towards the entrance, raising his blaster as Bale did the same beside him. A suit of pitch black armour quietly entered the garage, blasters in each hand pointed downward but at the ready, his armour and T-shaped visor of his helmet marking him as a Mandalorian. “Easy now, just had this armour repainted,” the Mandalorian’s voice crackled through his helmet’s speakers.