Kapitel 17: Season 1: Episode 6.1 - Fugitive
Episode 6.1 - Fugitive
Stardate: 41165.8
Earth Standard Date: March 01, 2364.
Galactic Date: 20th Day of the Second Month, 3956 BBY
Location: Lower City, Taris, Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic Continuity
Tyson sat in the dingy Lower City cantina, the hours crawling by at a snail's pace as he and his companions waited for any sign of Avner and his group. Across the table, Mission explained Lower City gang politics. The young twi'lek had unparalleled street knowledge having lived in the Lower City and Undercity all her life.
"The Hidden Beks aren't saints, but at least they try to maintain some decency with the locals. The Vulkars though..." She shook her head, lekku swaying. "They'll run right over anyone they can."
Tyson nodded at her words. "We had a run-in with the Vulkars when we first arrived," he said, frowning at the memory. "I can see what you're saying about them."
The cantina's seedy patrons milled about them. Tyson kept his senses attuned to those around him, waiting for any sign of Avner and the others. They assumed Bastila would be with the other group, but until they confirmed, her fate remained unknown.
Throughout the long wait, Tyson couldn't help but notice the looks that Alysia kept shooting between him and Vicky.
He reached out with his empathy, careful not to actively use the Force, and relying only on the innate abilities that came from being a Hybrid Betazoid. As he extended his awareness towards Alysia, he sensed she was conflicted, though her placid expression revealed nothing. It was understandable that she would have mixed feelings about the situation. After all, Tyson still struggled with uncertainty over the rapid evolution of Vicky's programming and the emergence of true sentience in the medical droid. Still, he felt the tension in her mind as she observed the interactions between himself and Vicky.
Did Alysia even notice the changes in Vicky's personality? If so, did the Jedi view the droid's newfound depth with suspicion? Or was she concerned by Tyson's growing attachment to the droid?
Tyson had initially welcomed Alysia's guidance when he first arrived in this strange universe, but her constant judgment was growing tiresome. He understood her wariness. After all, he was an unknown force-user who demonstrated power enough to save her life. Though he was no Sith, Tyson felt little need for the doctrine and dogma of the Jedi. He had already proven himself by defeating Darth Bandon in single combat. Tyson was slowly coming into his own. For now, he remained cordial and endured Alysia's veiled suspicions.
Even lost in these thoughts, Tyson couldn't miss the sudden commotion at the cantina's entrance. Heads turning and whispers rippling through the crowd, drew him back to the present. There, striding through the doorway with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, was Avner.
At his side was Bastila.
Avner's group made their way through the cantina, they spoke briefly with a man who stood to join them as they made their way back out into the Lower City. Tyson exchanged a glance with his group. A silent understanding passed between them. Together, they rose and began to follow, weaving through the crowd.
They stepped out of the cantina, hot on the heels of Avner and his crew.
Tyson's group closed in. Suddenly, Avner spun around, his hand darting to the hilt of his vibrosword. The blade hissed as he pulled it from its sheath. But Tyson was faster. Even as Avner moved, Tyson's vibrosword was in his hand, the Grey Goo Suit responding to his unconscious desires with a swiftness that bordered on precognition. The blade snapped into a defensive position, interposing between Tyson and Avner.
For a moment, the two men faced each other, their stances mirrored, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. Avner's gaze was hard, unyielding, the look of a man who had seen the darkest depths of the galaxy and had come out the other side. But Tyson met that gaze without flinching. The standoff might have continued until one attacked, the tension ratcheting up with each passing heartbeat, had it not been for a sudden, unexpected interruption.
"It is good to see you, Padawan Shan."
Tyson risked breaking eye contact and glanced to the side. Bastila, the woman they had come so far to rescue, the supposed key to the galaxy's fate, was standing right there, her eyes wide with surprise and recognition as she stared at Alysia. Avner still held a wary stance but his grip on his vibrosword relaxed slightly as he took a closer look at the group arrayed before him. His brow furrowed as if trying to place the faces.
It was Carth who broke the silence, stepping forward. "Hey, we didn't think you'd made it."
The desperate flight from the Endar Spire, the chaotic crash landing on Taris, the search for Bastila... all seemed to converge at this moment, this reunion in the depths of the Lower City.
Tyson slowly relaxed his combat stance. He sheathed his vibrosword at his back, the Gray Goo Suit adjusting seamlessly to accommodate the weapon. "Nice to see you are all alive and in good health," he said.
Mission's shoulders slumped with released tension. Tyson could sense the same sentiment reflected in the faces of his companions, in the soft exhalation of breath from Zaalbar. Tyson's relief at seeing Carth, Trask, Avner, and Bastila alive and unharmed was short-lived, overshadowed by a creeping unease that settled upon him.
Though the danger had passed, for now, facing down Revan left Tyson uncomfortable in a way he could not fully explain.
He wondered if it had come to blows, would Revan have had the advantage despite lacking active access to the Force? Or would it be Tyson, who had rudimentary command over its power with the edge? When he first arrived on the Endar Spire and Avner carved a path through their foes, Tyson supported him, riding on Revan's coattails. Then, and still now, doubts plagued his thoughts. Did he need Avner anymore? Was allowing Revan to live worth the risk of him returning to the dark side? Through the Force, Tyson sensed the immense potential within the man. Tyson knew with chilling certainty that he could end Revan here and now if he wished. He had grown stronger, while Revan remained diminished.
Before his thoughts could spiral further down that dark path, a soft voice at his side pulled him back. "Calm yourself. You're broadcasting your emotions through the Force, putting everyone on edge." Alysia whispered, "There's no danger here. These are our allies."
Tyson bit back a bitter laugh. No threat? Either Alysia was blind to the truth or... she did not know Avner's true identity. Tyson said nothing, struggling to relax his anxiety. Yet there was time enough to determine what must be done about Revan.
The large group trekked to the Upper City, their spirits high after their reunion. Tyson led the way to the hotel where he had previously been granted a complimentary room, assuming that his new status as the dueling champion would ensure they continued the royal treatment.
As they entered the lobby, a receptionist's eyes widened in recognition. She approached him, her voice polite but urgent. "Sir, please can you come with me for a moment? Your party can enjoy a complimentary drink at the bar."
Tyson, sensing no ill intent from the receptionist agreed. However, he couldn't help but notice the young woman's edginess as she escorted him through a staff-only door. Once they were alone, the receptionist's demeanor shifted, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "The Sith came here looking for you. I'm sorry, but this establishment can't accommodate your group. The soldiers claimed that you attacked one of their guards."
The consequences of his impulsive actions in the Lower City were catching up to him. The Sith were looking for him, undoubtedly eager to bring him to justice for his attack on their guard. Tyson cursed himself for his recklessness. He had been so focused on getting to the swoop race to rescue Bastila, that he hadn't considered the long-term ramifications of his actions.
And now, he was a wanted man.
But the receptionist wasn't finished. "Ajuur the Hutt sent a representative to find you." Tyson suppressed a groan. Of course, the Hutt would be looking for him too. The receptionist could barely contain her excitement as she revealed, "Bendak Starkiller, the undefeated Mandalorian champion, wants to fight you in a duel to the death!"
Tyson blinked in surprise. Bendak Starkiller's reputation preceded him. Even Marl had spoken of the vicious, bloodthirsty killer who had never lost a duel. And now, the old champion wanted to challenge Tyson, the new champion.
Tyson's first instinct was to refuse, to put as much distance between himself and the dueling ring as possible. He had already won the championship. What more did he have to gain by risking his life in a fight against a legendary warrior like Bendak? But even as the thought crossed his mind, Tyson knew the answer.
Bendak was Mandalorian. If Tyson killed him, he could claim the Mandalorian's armor.
The receptionist continued, her excitement was palpable even through the hushed tones of their conversation. "If you win you'll get to collect his bounty too. It's 20,000 credits! You should fight. It'd be epic!"
On the one hand, he knew that fighting a duel to the death was a terrible idea. He had responsibilities and had people counting on him. Bastila, Carth, Trask, Mission, Zaalbar, Alysia... they all needed him… or did they? Now that the entire group was reunited, Avner should be able to get them off the planet. Tyson had his misgivings about Revan, but were they justified? Tyson struggled to recall the specifics of Knights of the Old Republic, but the overall story came back to him. Revan was a Jedi who had fallen to the dark side. His friend and apprentice Malak had betrayed him. After losing his memory, Revan had been retrained as a Jedi and defeated Malak. As far as Tyson could tell, this universe aligned with the canon version of the games. In Knights of the Old Republic, the player could choose whether Revan was male or female and follow either the light or dark side through their actions. But if Tyson remembered correctly, the canonical Revan should be light side. If that held here, Tyson could trust the man.
The lure of the final duel didn't lie in the challenge or the thrill of competition. Moreso the opportunity to gain the Mandalorian armor Bendak wore to add to his Gray Goo Suit. But Tyson also considered that in this era, there were many Mandalorians. He didn't need Bendak's armor necessarily, there were plenty of scattered Mandalorian raiders during this period. But Bendak was accessible, challenged Tyson, and as a bonus had a bounty on his head.
Alysia would disapprove of him risking his life in a death match, or taking a life in cold blood. Though she accepted his dueling as a necessary evil, he knew that a fight to the death would be beyond what she would tolerate. With Bastila now accompanying them, Alysia would surely try to dissuade Tyson from such a reckless course.
Tyson reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of credits, and pressing them into the receptionist's palm. "Thank you for the information," he said, "I appreciate you taking the risk to tell me this."
The receptionist nodded, "Of course, sir. I just... I thought you should know."
"Make sure you bet on me," Tyson commented as he turned and left the room.
He approached the bar where his companions were gathered. After the group acknowledged his presence, the Grey Goo Suit formed a protective helmet around his head. The design was reminiscent of a Sith style, but with enough unique flourishes to avoid drawing undue attention. With his features obscured, Tyson addressed the group, his voice clear despite the helmet. "We have a problem. I attacked a Sith guard when I was rushing to the Lower City. Now they're searching for me. We won't be able to stay here."
Mission shrugged off the news with a casual air. "The Sith have been looking for Bastila too, it's not a big deal. We already have one fugitive in our group."
But Tyson shook his head, "The difference is, only the Sith know what Bastila looks like, to everyone else, she's just a name. Thanks to my duels, my face has been broadcast across the planet for the past few days. The Sith guard noticed me, and the receptionist picked me out the second I came in through the doors."
Alysia spoke up. "We need a plan to get off this planet. We can't stay here."
Mission chimed in. "That's what I'm talking about. Me and Big Z have been saying it was time to blow this place."
To Tyson's surprise, it was Avner who spoke next. The usually taciturn man, who had barely uttered a word since their awakening on the Endar Spire.
"That's what he's here for." He pointed at the man who had joined them recently during their quick stop at the Lower City cantina.
The man radiated confidence. "My name's Canderous Ordo," he introduced himself. "I work for Davik Kang and the Exchange. The hours aren't great, but they promised me a fortune to work for them, and I have nothing better to do. Mandalorian mercs like me are in high demand." He crossed his burly arms. "But lately Davik hasn't been paying me what he promised. I don't like getting cheated, so I figure it's time for me to break the Sith quarantine and get off this backwater planet."
Canderous regarded them steadily as he continued. "I've got a plan to escape Taris, but I can't do it alone. I need someone I know can get the job done to help me. That's where you come in."
Carth's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Careful," he warned. "Mercs like this haven't a lick of conscience. They'll betray you in a heartbeat. This could be a trap."
Bastila agreed, "You don't need to ally yourself with this...person," she said, distaste coloring her tone. "We should move on while we can."
Canderous scowled, bristling at their words. "I ain't talking to you," he snapped. "I'm talking to your friends here, aren't I?" He jabbed a finger toward Avner and Tyson. "I saw you win that swoop race, and you're the dueling ring champion. I figured anyone crazy enough to race like that or take down Twitch is probably crazy enough to break into the Sith military base."
He focused intently on the two men. "I need someone to steal the Sith launch codes from the base. Without those codes, any ship leaving the atmosphere will be disintegrated by the Sith fleet's automated defense guns."
Canderous squared his shoulders, "Here's the deal. You bring me those launch codes and I can provide the vehicle to get off the planet. Davik's flagship, the Ebon Hawk!"
Avner's eyes narrowed. "How would we even get inside a Sith base?" he asked.
"Getting in won't be easy," Canderous admitted. "The Sith base is protected by an encrypted security system. It would take a top-of-the-line astromech droid to slice through it." A sly grin spread across his face. "Lucky for you I know just the place to get a droid like that. Davik had one custom-built by Janice Nall. She runs a shop here in the Upper City. Just tell her Canderous sent you and she'll sell you the droid. Then you can use it to get the launch codes from the Sith base."
He leaned forward eagerly. "Normally I'd do this myself, but everyone knows who I work for. If I broke into the Sith base, they'd send an army down on Davik's estate to get those codes back. That's why I need you."
Carth pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Hmm. Much as I hate to say it, he's probably right. We're going to need that ship."
"I don't sense any deception from him, which is surprising," Bastila admitted.
The group fell silent for a moment, the weight of their predicament sinking in. They were effectively trapped on a planet crawling with Sith, and this Mandalorian mercenary just offered them a plan of escape.
The gears turned in Tyson's head as he considered their options. "Okay," he said at last, "Here's what we're going to do. We need those clearance codes. We're never going to be able to slip into a Sith base with a group this size without a frontal assault, setting off every alarm they have, and announcing that we have Jedi with us. We need to split up."
Tyson turned to Avner, Carth, and Trask. "You did an incredible job rescuing Bastila and remaining under the radar. You should continue to do so. Since I'm wanted and well known, my presence will only complicate things." Avner and Carth exchanged a glance, before nodding in agreement.
Tyson addressed Mission and Zaalbar next, "You know the Lower City best. Keep all these guys out of trouble."
Mission saluted then said, "Sure thing, boss. If that's what it takes to get off this rock."
Next, he spoke to the Jedi, "Alysia, you've been with us searching for Bastila the entire time. I know that your mission was to protect her, and now you can do that. I think this is where we part ways. With Avner the rest of the group, you should be able to stay safe and hidden. The Sith are looking for Bastila, the last thing we should do is bring her into one of their bases."
"Vicky will come with me. I'll draw as much attention to myself as I can, and keep the Sith occupied. We'll get the droid and go after those clearance codes. I have a set of Sith armor so it shouldn't be hard to infiltrate their base."
Vicky gave Tyson a look of concern. "Are you sure we should be splitting up?"
Tyson placed a hand on her shoulder, "We will be fine, I promise."
With the plan set, before the group began to disperse, Tyson spoke one last time. "Hey, everyone... be careful out there. Watch each other's backs. We're in this together, and we're going to get through it together. We'll meet back up at the Lower City Cantina. That's close enough that you can lay low with the Hidden Becks if you need to, but I'm sure Mission and Big Z have that covered."
The ragtag band began to go their separate ways. No other farewells were uttered as Tyson watched his friends fan out into the streets. For now, he turned his mind to his priorities. He would do his part, and then make his way to the rendezvous at the Lower City Cantina.
But he had to fight first.
Episode: Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic - The Search for Bastila Shan Complete!
+50 RP
Reality Points: 150
— Star Jumper —
Tyson took stock of his credits. After winning numerous duels, placing bets on himself in the arena, and negotiating a favorable deal with Ajuur, Tyson had amassed a small fortune of 40,000 credits. He had given 1,000 credits each to Mission and Avner for their respective groups, but that barely made a dent.
One reason Tyson decided to split from the others was to avoid any objections to his next move. Accepting Bendak Starkiller's challenge to a duel to the death. But first, he wanted to verify something. With the rest of the group dispersed, Tyson and Vicky headed to a nearby door. Tyson slid his Access Key into the slot, and instead of a bathroom, they stepped into Tyson's Personal Reality. He quickly closed the door before anyone noticed.
Tyson mentally chided himself for not using his access card this way earlier. If he had used it the first time he had gone to the Lower City, he could have avoided the trouble of the Sith guard when he'd tried to return. And they wouldn't have had to worry about the current bounty on his head. Not to mention, he might have arrived before the start of the swoop race. But no use dwelling on past mistakes. Lesson learned.
He turned to Vicky, who had been observing him with curiosity. "The receptionist in the hotel informed me that a Mandalorian named Bendak Starkiller wants to fight in a duel to the death... he's got a bounty on his head. twenty-thousand credits."
"I worry for your safety. My primary… my deepest desire, is to protect you. The thought of you facing such a formidable opponent, with your life on the line..."
Tyson reached out, taking her hands in his, "I know you want to protect me, Vicky. And I appreciate that. But this is something I have to do. " He squeezed her hands, trying to convey the depth of his conviction through touch alone. "Trust that I can handle this, that I can come out on top."
For a long moment, she was silent, then, slowly, she nodded. "I do trust you, Master. With all that I am. If this is what you feel you must do, then I will support you."
Tyson and Vicky stepped back through the doorway, transitioning from the Personal Reality to the more mundane surroundings of the hotel. With a final glance to ensure they hadn't been noticed, Tyson pocketed the Access Key and led the way out of the hotel, Vicky following close behind.
As they entered the Dueling building, Tyson made a beeline for the Hutt who presided over the fights. Tyson strode confidently into Ajuur's chamber, the Hutt's bulbous eyes tracking his every move. "Tyson, my boy!" Ajuur rumbled in Huttese. "Have you come to accept Bendak's challenge? To fight the Mandalorian in a duel to the death?"
"That's right, Ajuur," Tyson replied smoothly.
Ajuur's lipless mouth curled into a grotesque approximation of a smile. "Excellent! I will make the necessary preparations." The Hutt began to turn away, his attention already shifting to the logistics of the upcoming battle. But Tyson held up a hand, halting him in his tracks.
"Not so fast, Ajuur," Tyson said, his tone brooking no argument. "let's talk business." The Hutt's eyes narrowed, but he gestured for Tyson to continue, curiosity and greed warring in his expression. "When I win, I want all of Bendak's gear. His armor, his weapons, everything. It's mine."
Ajuur considered this for a moment, his massive head tilting in thought. "Ho ho! Bold, aren't we?" he rumbled. "But not unreasonable."
Tyson met the Hutt's gaze steadily. "His share. I want another twenty percent of the winnings. That's on top of my usual cut. When he's dead, he won't need it."
Ajuur's laughter abruptly ceased. He leaned forward, bringing his massive head close to Tyson. "Twenty percent? You ask a lot, boy," he growled.
Unfazed, Tyson crossed his arms. "Take it or leave it, Ajuur. I'm the one putting my neck on the line."
For a tense moment, the Hutt glowered. But it was quickly replaced by a calculating look, the wheels of profit and loss turning behind those reptilian eyes.
"Your terms are accepted. Defeat Bendak Starkiller, and his gear and his share are yours." Ajuur said, his tone grudging but accepting.
— Star Jumper —
Tyson stood alone in the center of the arena, the durasteel floor was hard beneath his boots as he stared across at his opponent. Bendak Starkiller loomed like a specter of death, his polished Mandalorian armor masking any hint of emotion.
A hush fell over the roaring crowd as the announcer's voice boomed through the stadium. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, a somber note hanging on his words, "Today we bear witness to a fight for the ages. A clash between two champions."
The announcer continued, his voice rising. "On one side, we have our prodigal champion, Bendak Starkiller! Undefeated, relentless, a reaper of the arena!"
The crowd erupted into a deafening roar as Bendak raised a gauntleted hand, the polished beskar of his armor glinting under the harsh lights of the arena. Tyson tightened his grip on his vibroblade. He knew the deadly reputation of the man before him, but he would not falter. For better or worse, this battle would end only one way.
With one of them dead.
The announcer's voice carried over the deafening cheers of the crowd. "But on the other side, we have our newest star, a duelist who has proven himself time and time again in this very arena. A man who has climbed to the top, defeating all who stood in his path."
The crowd erupted again, their cheers and chants of Tyson's name echoing through the battle arena. Tyson raised a hand in acknowledgment, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the Mandalorian warrior across the arena floor.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, Tyson!" shouted the announcer. The crowd roared in anticipation, the air electric with excitement. Tyson tuned out the noise, focusing only on Bendak. "The rules are simple," the announcer continued, his voice booming through the sound system. "A death match, no holds barred. May the best fighter win!"
"Three...two...one..." the announcer drew out the moment as long as he could.
"Fight!" The word exploded through the silent coliseum.
Bendak Starkiller didn't hesitate. He proved the Mandalorian reputation for ruthlessness was well-founded from the very start of the fight. Drawing a plasma grenade from his belt, he sent it arcing through the air, at Tyson. But Tyson was no ordinary fighter. The Force screamed a warning, surging through him. With a burst of speed that defied belief, Tyson launched himself to the side, the Force propelling him just ahead of the grenade's devastating blast. The explosion rocked the arena, a wave of heat and noise that washed over Tyson like a physical thing. But he had no time to revel in his narrow escape. Bendak was already moving, his hand reaching for another plasma grenade.
Tyson reacted on instinct, his blaster pistol leaping into his hand with a speed that bordered on supernatural. Even as the grenade left Bendak's grip, Tyson's finger was tightening on the trigger, his aim guided by Master with your Hands, his Augment focus, and the Force itself.
The blaster bolt streaked through the air, colliding with the plasma grenade at the perfect moment. The resulting explosion was a shockwave that sent Bendak flying backward, his armor the only thing saving him from being immolated.
But even as the Mandalorian hit the ground, he was already recovering, his beskar armor absorbing the worst of the blast. Bendak regained his feet, his blaster pistol appearing in his hand.
And then, the arena erupted into a storm of blaster fire, the two combatants trading shots with a speed and precision that left the audience gasping in awe. Tyson's blaster seemed to move of its own accord, each bolt aimed at the weak points in Bendak's armor.
But the Mandalorian's beskar held strong, the alloy shrugging off Tyson's attacks like raindrops off a roof. Even as Tyson scored hit after hit, Bendak remained unharmed, his shots coming perilously close to finding their mark.
It was a strange stalemate, Tyson was able to evade Bendak's attacks, thanks to the Force whispering warnings and guiding his movements, while his attacks landed, but couldn't penetrate Bendak's armor. Tyson searched for a way to break the deadlock.
He reached out to the Force once more, letting its power flow through him like a conduit. He felt its tug, its guidance as it drew him toward Bendack, urging him to close in against his opponent.
With a burst of speed that left even Bendak startled, Tyson closed the distance between them, his blaster pistol was no longer his greatest threat as he raised his vibrosword. The Mandalorian, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tactics, barely had time to bring his armored forearm up to block before Tyson was on him.
The clash was all sparks and screeching metal, the two warriors straining against each other. Bendak reached back during the stalemate and grabbed his vibrosword.
Tyson was not a formally trained swordsman. However, thanks to his Force Specialization: Intelligence perk, he had gained an intuitive understanding of Shii-Cho, the first form of lightsaber combat developed by the ancient Jedi. Shii-Cho's movements were adapted from traditional sword fighting techniques. As he crossed blades with Bendak, Tyson flowed between the sweeping slashes and thrusts of Shii-Cho. He gave ground before Bendak's slash, then pivoted and riposted faster than the eye could follow. Bendak was surprised by Tyson's skill, the Mandalorian's heavy armor barely turning aside blows that would have crippled a lesser warrior.
But Bendak was no novice either. As Tyson pressed the attack, Bendak adjusted to his opponent's style, blocking the strikes he could not evade. With a roar, he went on the offensive, blades crashing as the two fighters dueled back and forth across the arena sands. The crowd cheered wildly at the display.
Additionally, Tyson had the Force as his ally. It guided his movements, almost as if he were a passenger as his body was led through the slashes, parries, and thrusts. With a final, wrenching twist of his wrist, he sent Bendak's sword flying from his grip.
The Mandalorian, disarmed, watched as Tyson's blade halted a hairsbreadth from his throat. For a long, tense moment, the only sound was the heaving of their breaths. Tyson spoke the words that he believed would seal his victory.
"Yield," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "Yield, and live another day."
For a heartbeat, Bendak seemed to teeter on the precipice of surrender, his hands slowly lowering to his sides in acquiescence. But in a sudden, snake-like motion, the Mandalorian's hands darted to his belt, fingers closing around the smooth, cold surface of his last plasma grenade.
Bendak dove to the side as Tyson's vibroblade slashed through the space he had just occupied. Tyson's eyes widened in dismay, realizing the trap he had fallen into. The Mandalorian hurled the explosive towards Tyson with an underhand throw.
Tyson knew the grenade's blast would surely catch Bendak in its radius, beskar armor or not. But the Mandalorian seemed willing to sacrifice himself if it meant taking Tyson with him and hoping his armor would offer enough protection that he'd survive. Time slowed to a crawl as the grenade spun through the air, only feet from Tyson.
Tyson berated himself for the arrogance that had led him to believe he'd been victorious too soon. And the foolishness that he'd offered a Mandalorian his life. Mercy was a weakness in battle.
Tyson reached out to the Force, focusing his mind on the spinning grenade. With an exertion of will, he used his telekinetic powers to halt the explosive's trajectory and reverse its course, sending it hurtling back toward the man who had thrown it. Bendak had only a split second to realize what was happening before the grenade detonated against his beskar armor in a blinding wall of light and sound. The explosion engulfed the Mandalorian, ravaging the area around him with shrapnel and roiling flames. Tyson called upon the Force again, willing it to grant him supernatural speed to evade the blast radius. He darted away just as the grenade exploded, the world seeming to slow around him as he narrowly avoided the brunt of the fiery detonation.
As the roar and fury of the blast began to subside, Tyson turned back toward Bendak, blinking to clear the smoke from his eyes. The Mandalorian warrior lay unmoving upon the ground, his once-pristine beskar armor now scorched and battered nearly beyond recognition.
Tyson slowly approached the fallen man, stopping to stand over Bendak. He took in the extent of the damage. The beskar appeared intact, but the plasma grenade's explosion had taken its toll, burning away the underweave of Bendak's armor and fusing the molten remnants to the warrior's skin. The sight was gruesome. Tyson watched as Bendak struggled to rise.
Blood bubbled from his lips as he spoke, "To think," Bendak rasped, "you had an energy shield this whole time and didn't activate it until that moment." He coughed, spitting blood. "Very clever. I've never seen anyone extend an energy shield to reflect a grenade. Probably as good an engineer as you are a fighter."
Despite his grievous injuries, the warrior's eyes glinted with amusement and respect. Tyson knew better than to underestimate the Mandalorian, even in his weakened state.
Fool me once…
As if in response to his caution, the Force whispered a warning in his mind, a premonition of danger that set his nerves alight. Without conscious thought, his blaster pistol snapped up, his finger tightening on the trigger even as his eyes registered the glint of metal in Bendak's off-hand.
The Mandalorian had been attempting to use his body to shield his hidden blaster in a last-ditch effort to turn the tables on his opponent. But the Force had once again proven itself Tyson's ally, warning him of the danger.
The blaster bolt struck true, the weapon spinning from Bendak's grasp as the smell of charred flesh filled the air. The Mandalorian let out a grunt of pain, his body slumping forward as the last of his strength deserted him.
Tyson closed the distance between them, his steps measured and deliberate. Bendak was on his hands and knees now, his head bowed in a posture that might have been mistaken for submission were it not for the defiant set of his shoulders.
Looking down at the fallen warrior, at the scorch marks and melted underweave that marred his once-proud armor, Tyson knew that Bendaks end was at hand. The time for mercy had passed. The duel had been fought, and the outcome was decided. All that remained was the final stroke, the coup de grace that would send the Mandalorian to whatever afterlife awaited him.
With a sense of grim purpose, Tyson raised his vibrosword. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down upon him. He'd killed others since he arrived, hadn't he? Why did this feel so different?
Instead of dwelling on the moment, with a final, decisive thrust, Tyson brought the vibrosword down, the razor-sharp edge finding the gap between the beskar plates and helmet with unerring accuracy. Bendak's body jerked once, a final, reflexive twitch, and then went still as his spirit fled its mortal shell.
The crowd's reaction was a distant roar, a cacophony of shock and awe that washed over Tyson like a breaking wave. But he paid it no heed, his attention focused solely on the fallen warrior at his feet.
He had done it. He had defeated Bendak Starkiller and had claimed the bounty and the glory that came with it. But in that moment, something felt wrong. Tyson hadn't felt like he'd gained anything from that fight. He felt like he'd lost something, something important, that he'd never get back.
The coliseum crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers and gasps, the sheer magnitude of Tyson's victory echoing off the durasteel walls. He stood tall, unmoving at the center of the arena. The announcer's voice boomed out over the tumultuous uproar, reverberating throughout the coliseum. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he proclaimed, a distinct edge of disbelief in his tone. "What we have witnessed here today is nothing short of extraordinary! This newcomer, this underdog, this outsider to our arena...he has done what no one thought possible! He has defeated the legendary Bendak Starkiller himself!"
The crowd roared even louder at the pronouncement. The announcer's voice grew more impassioned as he continued. "Bendak Starkiller! A name that echoes throughout the ages of dueling history! His reputation was that of an invincible warrior. Yet today, before all our eyes, he has been struck down!"
"Remember this day!" the announcer implored the spectators. "Tell your children and your grandchildren that you were here! That you witnessed the impossible become a reality! That you saw the moment when new blood triumphed over the old guard. When a new star was born in our arena!"
His voice rang with conviction as he concluded, "What we have seen today encapsulates the true spirit of the duel! The excitement, the risk, the glory! Let it be known that on this day, Tyson carved his name into the annals of Taris forevermore!"
Episode: Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic - Starkiller… killer. Complete!
+50 RP
Reality Points: 200
— Star Jumper —
Tyson
Origins: Human, Humanoid, Drop-In, Space Pirate, Bad Guy
Race: Augment Human-Betazoid (Hybrid)
Character Points: 1050, 600 (Vicky)
Reality Points: 200
Ship Points: 1400
Credits: 40,000
Status Effects: (none)
Drawbacks:
Gauntlet (Locked)
Ensign Marty Stu
A Simple Re'Q'uest
Hybrid (Betazoid)
Amok Time/Blood Fever
Outlawed
The Voyager Problem
Perks:
Cosmic Awareness
Out of Nowhere
Going Native
Live and Let Live
This is (Not?) Rocket Science
Kinda Bland
Determinator
Painted On
Snakeskin
Adaptable
Duelist
Master with your Hands
Best of the Best
Everything Is A Weapon
Augment
Force Specialization: Intelligence
Tactical Info
Sever Force
Items:
Laser Blade
Spacesuit
Agony Booth
Cloaking Minefield
Lightsaber
Gray Goo Suit
Companions:
(Vicky) V-KO IV Nursedroid, Artificial Intelligence Upgrade
Personal Reality:
Access Key
Security System
High-Security Inter-Reality Connecting Door (Star Trek Enterprise)
Medical Bay
High-Security Inter-Reality Connecting Door (Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic)
Key Link
Housing Complex
Basic Nutrition
Spaceships:
Tramp Freighter (Destroyed - Respawn on 02/28/2365)
Sith Interceptor
AUTORENGEDANKEN 
Steatoda
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Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein