Most Unwelcome (Megaath)

[lion]

There had been little joy in venturing through Anchorhead as the light bore down from the twin suns above, washing the sand-strewn landscape with a flood of intolerable heat, as Sarkh nestled against the bulkhead surface, feeling the cool chill of the durasteel plane through the layers of cloth that had protected him from the fury of the twin suns only moments prior. Steadying his breathing, slowly letting his eyes close and his lungs to fill, Sarkh felt his heart begin to slow and steady; calming his heated body down and allowing focus to return.

Anchorhead was a hole, there was no question that the many-times-abandoned colony needed to be allowed to die rather than be continually struggled with, but even Tatooine had its saving graces; the promise of potentially rewarding prey such as the fabled Krayt Dragon or even a few Tuskens were lure enough for devotees of the Scorekeeper to venture to the sandy dunes in pursuit of glory. For Sarkh, however, whilst a Dragon had been the reason he had come to this place, the promise for something far more deadly and worthy had led him to stay. 

There were Jedi here.

It was hard to know for sure among the waifs and other non-noteworthy beings crowding the trade station, hindering his already nascent abilities within the Force to sniff out such powerful beings, but after two days there had been little mistake; there was someone here strong within the Force. It had been on this that the young Trandoshan had made his plans; tracking the Force-Sensitive down through the pulses and pulls in his mind, allowing both common sense and the mysterious whispers of the Force to narrow down his options.

Tracking the Jedi down to her ship, for there was no mistaking those fleshy bumps and frail figure the humans seemed to favour as feminine, Sarkh had opted for ambush rather than open confrontation, stealing aboard the freighter when presence aboard the ship was minimal. Experience, after all, called for the use of surprise against the Jedi prey; confrontation and the kill itself could be face to face, but approach required extreme care. Like any predatory animal, the Jedi were finely attuned to their surroundings and ferocious when provoked; foolishly doing so from too far away would be suicide.

A slight smirk crossing his reptillian face, feeling his maskplates part, Sarkh couldn't help but recall the boarding; the simplicity and the thrill of it. Overheated as he was, the reptilian man had overlooked the presence of a single lifeform aboard the ship in waiting. Initially suspecting a trap, the reptile had been surprised when the figure of a feeble human had crossed his path in the medbay; her scream of terror almost music to his ears.

Whether it was anger from being cooked under the twin suns or simply at the fact the girl before him wasn't the Jedi he had sought, Sarkh's response had been swift; a stiff left jab catching the puny human in the side of the jaw, enough to rattle the mammal's senses for long enough to be restrained and gagged. Instinct said to kill the little wretch, but hesitant to provoke the missing Jedi's senses further by snuffing out a life, Sarkh stayed his hand. 

What Sarkh hadn't anticipated, however, was that his senses hadn't extended to droids. 

Stealing through to the main hold, the mechanical figure had been there to stop him, querying in what sounded like a frustrated voice Sarkh's identity, the scream, and the trail of sand left by each rushed step, jiggling loose grains of the stuff from his clothes upon the ship deck. Initially reaching for his lightsaber, Sarkh thought better of it; the ozone tang of a carved droid would bring suspicion long before the sight of its mechanical body would.

Unlike the girl, however, the trandoshan had no compunctions in causing the droid harm, a devastating Force-assisted right-foot sidekick catching the droid under its 'chin' with such force behind it that the mechanical servos in its neck strained, causing the head to rock back violently as the droid fell. Swiftly capitalising, kneeling atop the fallen mech's chest, Sarkh wasted little time in locking the head between his right head and side; pulling back with as much strength as he could bring to bear. Pressure built upon the already weakened joints, and where a human's neck may have long broken, the droid's servos held right until the reptile ripped the head clean off, tossing it aside as one would an emptied can of fizz-pop.

And it was there that the reptile laid his trap; stealing to the cargo bay to lay in wait for the arrival of her, allowing himself the luxury of anticipation as time drew out. It would be only a matter of time, now; the Jedi would struggle in such close quarters to overpower him, as all humans did against trandoshan might. There, crouched against the cargo bay bulkhead to allow his blood to cool down, Sarkh made ready his murderous intent.

There, he would wait.

[DreadPirateMissus]

"Well, that went better than expected."

Their last run had been remarkably easy, as far as smugglings go. Moisture farmers hadn't been able to get much of a "crop" this cycle, and one of the local slum lords was trying to build an army by looking like the best option. That meant having more water than anyone else. Admittedly, the tanks were hard to hide, and there had been all kinds of folk who didn't want to let Meg and her partner keep hold of all their cargo. Still, when all was said and done, the client got his goods, and the extra barrels that her crew had managed to swindle out of the waterseller were covertly dropped off around the poorer neighborhoods on the way back. There were, however, some casualties.

"Are you kidding me? They blew off my karking foot!"

Meg's little brother in all but genetics, Zed, was hobbling on makeshift crutches. Clearly, his outlook on the previous job differed from his captain's considerably. She stretched in the sun as they walked, a smirk on her face.

"Aw, c'mon, it's not like it was a REAL foot. Hell, I bet Fidget can get you fixed up with spare parts around the ship. Anyway, word is pegs are back in style."

"Har dee har. Remind me to kick you next time YOU'RE down."

"Can't, can ya? No foot and all."

If Zed made a retort, it was grumbled low enough that Meg couldn't hear. She shrugged. Compared to the prosthetic foot loss, the blaster graze that burned a streak across her offhand shoulder didn't seem like much. Besides, soon Vanad would be throwing Kolto at her and telling her why she's the dumbest woman in the galaxy. Might as well get in a little fun first.

For now, they were doing some light shopping in the local bazaar. Not much beyond the basics, but Megaath got a good deal on some Deb-Deb fruit, and she figured everyone could use a treat. As she was paying, she felt a chill go down her spine, as if she was being watched. She stopped to listen and focus. No one really stood out in the crowd, with the exception of a couple of adepts. Knowing this place, they didn't even know they were sensitive, but the aura didn't lie...most of the time. She shook it off, finished paying for her goods, and led Zed back to the ship, a little less snarky than before.

It wasn't until she stepped onto the ship that she really knew something was wrong. She blocked Zed's path, making him curse as he tried not to fall over.

"Shh, listen. Hear that?"

He frowned.

"No, I don't."

"Exactly. Think about it. When's the last time you've come in here and NOT heard Fidget cleaning?"

The Devaronian's face went pale.

"Oh, skag."

Megaath drew her rifle, alerting herself of everything around them.

"Shut up and hide."

Within moments, Zed had disappeared into an unnoticeable side compartment. The Crimson Hare's captain brought the rifle to bear, mostly out of habit. Having no eyes, rifle sights were pointless, but it was always easier to pass as a cyborg if she wasn't always shooting too well from the hip. Slowly, Megaath made sweeps towards the Med Bay. She liked their resident nutso droid well enough, but Vanad was her sister, blood and all. The decision of which to seek out first was not difficult. When she turned into the bay and spotted her sister lying on the floor, any thought of the droid's wellbeing left. Rushing to the Miraluka girl's side, she checked her vitals, and silently exhaled in relief.

She was alive. Bound, gagged, unconscious, but alive. She untied the bindings, removed the gag, and placed a cushion under her sister's head. Then she stuffed some Kolto into a belt-pouch, stepped out of the Med Bay, and sealed the door behind her. If Vanad was smart, she wouldn't try to leave when she woke up, and no one would be able to get in without considerable effort. Continuing her sweep, she came across the various bits of Fidget. He was shut down, but she doubted he was beyond their skill to fix. That accounted for her entire crew. It did not, however, account for whoever did this. She allowed the rage to seep into her blood as she approached the cockpit. It was empty, but she checked it for boobytraps anyway. Nothing seemed out of place, so cursing mightily, she turned on the shipwide commlink.

"Hello, this is the captain speaking. Whoever you are, you are on my ship and I don't recall inviting any visitors today, or ever. If you ain't off my ship before I count to ten, then I will hunt you down and dangle you, bits first, in front of my engines when I take off."

Whoever HAD boarded her ship had incapacitated most of her crew, so she wasn't going to actually start counting. Instead, she stepped lightly into the corridor just outside the cockpit and opened a compartment in the floor, hopping in and closing it behind her. There wasn't enough space to use the rifle, but her regular blaster could make the shot just fine. The person who knocked out her sister hadn't played fair. She'd be damned if she did.

[lion]

Even without the two sparks of life surging through the Force to alert him to the presence of people aboard the vessel, their voices certainly announced their arrival well enough. Conversation, one male and one female, carried through the halls of the ship before swiftly falling silent; both their presence and their sudden disappearance bringing the overheated reptile's senses to the fore.

There was no mistaking it, feeling her through the Force as if she were right before him, the Jedi was aboard. A surge of excitement risked, for the briefest second, elevated heartbeat in the twenty-seven year old hunter; the thrill of the target entering his sights too much for even the most experienced and patient mind to quash immediately. It wasn't his first Jedi kill, Sarkh knew, the ivory-tinged shards of bone adorning his powerful frame held that honour, but certainly adding another to the list was a prospect far more appealing than the elusive Krayt that had drawn him to Tatooine in the first place.

As he felt her, however, so too did it seem that she did the same. Suspicion flared around the brighter spark in his mind, a sense of unease and even slight panic before sudden motion took hold. Pressing harder against the cold bulkhead, feeling the heat seep and bleed from him, the masked Trandoshan tried to reach out further; closing his eyes to concentrate and shut out all sensory distraction. Where were they going? What was being said? What wasn't?

The Force was, without a doubt, difficult to wield properly; the strain was momentarily evident behind the durasteel plates of the Trandoshan's facemask, a slight clenching of the muscles around the eyes and clenching of the jaw to try to retain focus. Self-training in the Jedi Arts had only carried the young man so far, would only achieve so much, and where the Jedi aboard the ship might have had years of training, Sarkh had to manage with what little time he had set aside for himself.

What little he had, however, as the reptile slowly opened his eyes, was enough. The two sparks had split up; the brighter of the two had slipped out of range and vanished, whilst the dimmer had seemingly moved into a corridor by the main hold and stopped. Scaled 'brow' furrowed in thought and slight tension from the mental strain, Sarkh couldn't help but find the move curious; why separate in a confined space, with a known intruder? Surely the one advantage the Jedi and her crew had, aside of knowledge of the ship's layout, was numbers?

If not foolish, it was certainly a curious tactic.

It was then, however, that a voice flared in the silence. Distorted, crackling through the poorly-maintained speakers of the shipwide PA, a feminine voice drew the hunter's attention, announcing her threat and awareness of his presence aboard her ship.  That certainly seemed more like it, verbal bravado to try to intimidate the boarder into departing, though the notion brought a slight pang of doubt to the Trandoshan's mind. It was a rather pedestrian solution, wasn't it? Surely, a trained Jedi would have simply strolled into the cargo bay with lightsaber ignited and demanded his departure; if Sarkh's minimal training in the Force had singled out the Jedi, surely she would have sensed him long before?

Tugging the lightsaber free of its loop upon his belt, the Trandoshan's expression darkened significantly, a sudden tension demanding the comfort of arms ready at hand. The Jedi was playing an oddly civilian game about this, and as Sarkh began to carefully creep to the mouth of the cargo hold, it was something the reptile didn't dare provoke lightly. Such suspicious behavior would have had to be deliberate; the moss-and-leaf covered webbing above a pit of spikes waiting to snare the overconfident, too sure to be observant.

Ever so slowly, carefully, the trandoshan crept from the cargo bay; his legs bent and his stride short upon the points of his reptilian feet to muffle his steps. It was almost comical; Trandoshans were feared for all-forward power and destructive nature, and yet as careful as can be, Sarkh opted for stealth. The bone-adorned, metallic-faced figure could have been ripped straight from a nightmare, and yet, with barely the tap of sharpened footclaws upon steel, the scaled man stole deeper into the vessel.

The cockpit seemed the logical place to go, Sarkh knew; either he would encounter the Jedi there or, at the very least, sabotage or damage the navigation. If the ship could be rendered inoperable, the risk of being trapped aboard the ship if all went wrong became negligible; an escape-plan was never something to be ignored, after all. Little stood in his way, but rather than sprint and risk giving away his position, the reptile opted for caution; inching his way one step at a time.

It wasn't until the corridor just before the cockpit itself that the reptilian man stopped, pausing as if a nexu suddenly catching scent. Whether it was the Force or simply years of instinctive nature coming to the fore, something demanded all stop from Sarkh and his feet immediately complied, the reptile crouching dead-still in the center of the passage. Something was amiss; calm beyond simply nothing, as if there were an expectation hinging upon normalcy.

It wasn't that the corridor appeared safe, it was the sneaking suspicion that it had to appear safe that almost immediately brought the reptile's senses to flare. Surely if he had planned to reach the cockpit, his pursuers would likely plan for such an eventuality; it and the engine room were the control centers of the ship and common sabotage points, why would they be unguarded? Left wide open as they were?

The truth, Sarkh felt as he stretched out with his mind to the incredibly small, surprisingly hidden little flicker of life in the floor that might have escaped his notice otherwise, was far from what his eyes were telling him. Floor compartments! How could that have gone unnoticed? Perhaps it was the perception that a Jedi would have been above-board that had clouded the reptile's mind, Sarkh guessed, but the notion of even the Republic's staunch guardians employing duplicity and trickery like this was not so far gone to be incredible.

Lightsaber in hand, the trandoshan wasted little time in thumbing the activator stud, bringing to life with a crackling hiss the green-hued beam and bathing the corridor in its earthly-toned glow; leaping forward with a spring of his feet to dive belly-first to the ground. The clatter of his tabard smacking the metal surface was audible along with the grunt from the lizard-man, but moving swiftly, Sarkh took the initiative; pressing his left forearm hard against the 'lid' of the suspected compartment to try to pin it in place before thrusting downward with his lightsaber, seeking to shear whatever was inside to pieces, hissing his lethal intent the whole way.

[DreadPirateMissus]

Megaath knew she was in trouble as soon she heard the distant footsteps down the corridor. Then again, the crew mostly being unconscious or worse probably should have indicated that. Had she been any other species, she probably wouldn't have picked it up, but the gentle taps that accompanied the initial steps, however hesitant, indicated clawed feet. There was also a knocking of...bones? Against something else relatively rigid, the source of which became obvious when his aura became more visibly outlined. He was a Trandoshan. And a Force user, by the brightness of him. When the hell did she piss off a Force user? She didn't DEAL with Force users. It was her golden rule. Regardless, she aimed her blaster accordingly, and waited for the right moment.

It came, but she wasn't ready. He was almost on top of her, ALMOST in the perfect spot, when a limb raised and the lightsaber flared on.

Oh, KARK ME.

That was the only thought she managed to process as her instincts took over. As it happened, the underfloor area just before the cockpit door was a larger secret compartment than just the one panel, and she started rolling away the moment she heard the hiss of energy activate. By the time she heard the hiss of...well, her attacker, she was in front of another access panel and leaping out of it, taking off running. Thank everything she'd always been naturally light on her feet, because if that lizard was what she thought it was, an open corridor was the last place she should be. She needed range, and cover, even if he could sense her through it.

She needed obstacles if she was going to deal with a Jedi.

Of course, he could be a Dark Side user, but they generally only hit big players, people whose death would benefit them directly. Unless this particular Trandoshan REALLY needed an empty, unmanned cargo ship, Meg's death wouldn't help him much. But Jedi, they were unpredictable, and she was a criminal. It was still hard to wrap her head around one coming after her people directly, but considering the situation, she didn't have much time to think.

She did, however, have pretty good reason to stop caring about appearances and passing for human. Pointing backwards over her shoulder as she ran, she reached out and aimed for the center of the aura of her attacker. At the very best, it would wound them. At the worst, it would buy her some time as she headed for the cargo bay.

[lion]

Much to Sarkh's disappointment, the shrill sound of agony he so relished to hear was eerily absent from the hold beneath him; only the fizzle of burning duraplast beneath him and the soppy 'thwap' of the molten metal dripping upon the compartment floor below met his earholes. Frustration already began to bubble away at the Trandoshan's psyche, weathering his patience, as he scrambled to his feet. The Force tugged at his mind, pulled his senses and attention behind him; the vibrations of movement below him pulsing through his chest suggesting his prey's container was larger that it seemed.

His prey was smart; there was no underestimating Jedi cunning under duress, it seemed. How devious; it was still surprising to think a Jedi would require such suspicious features aboard a vessel, letalone ones large enough to maneuver through. Scrambling to his feet, pulling the lightsaber from the bubbling mess in the floor, the Trandoshan wasted little time in offering pursuit; his clawed feet clattering against the floor as his powerful legs flung him into action.

Fear was pungent in the air; the Jedi was terrified, and it didn't take the sensitivity of a Force-wielder to feel it. Nervousness, sweat, adrenaline; the humanoids secreted so much of it into the air that it was almost miasma-like in its presence, wafting through the air for the Trandoshan's broad nostrils to detect. Another red flag flew, but it had hardly been the first time that he had felt such things emanating from the Jedi ilk; they were mortal as any other, and thus could be made to feel fear and panic. Such tools had led to the demise of his first Jedi prey, after all, and Sarkh had been certain to learn the lesson that such weapons were perhaps preferable.

His lightsaber humming death as it carved through the air, bone clattering with every powerful stride taken, Sarkh could feel his mask-plates part; teeth gritting in anticipatory delight as the human grew closer and closer. She was smaller than him, shorter-legged and frail; her stride was fast but small compared to him, losing distance to his broader steps as they stole ground. So close to a swipe's range of her, Sarkh could practically feel the faint resistance of the lightsaber carving through flesh as he envisioned the kill...

Be it the will of the Scorekeeper or the Force, perhaps both, the reptile stayed his hand. Rather than try to slash and swing for whatever he could hit, the lizard instead dove to the floor; thumbing the activator stud of the lightsaber to dismiss the deadly blade in an instant. A sudden shift of the woman's hand had set off the response; grasping for a blaster pistol and suddenly firing over-shoulder in his direction. Air cooked as the charged bolt seared through the space between the two in an instant; the particles of breathable air burning above his spine as the diving reptile sprawled for the floor with a heavy thump.

The blaster bolt had just missed him; where his sternum had been just moments prior now stank of acrid ozone and burning Tibanna. A parting shot so close? The Jedi risked much in her fleeing, but her plucky move had earned her some time; scrambling back to his feet with a hiss of impatience, Sarkh took valuable seconds to get back to his feet and running again; re-igniting the lightsaber as he gave pursuit once more, only to suddenly stop.

Inspiration, and years of practice in predatory hunting, had struck. Never let prey dictate the pace of the hunt; one of the core rules he had allowed to be broken, and now had to work to rectify.

"You have nowhere to flee, Jedi! Face me, human; or you will find your precious medic smeared across the medbay." Sarkh roared, gripping the metallic tube in his right hand tightly in frustration; the blade hissing as the handle trembled under grasp. His anger was not so much as to offer such a threat, but like most prey with protective instincts, direct engagement could be assured with threats to the less vulnerable. After all, why pursue the mother when her fleeing left her children exposed?

With a wicked smile beginning to twist his mouth and press his mask-pieces together, the reptilian hunter deviated from his path, chasing not the Jedi, but swiftly beating a retreat to the medbay. The Jedi would have had to have sensed his departure and his intent, if she cared for the poor girl in medbay, she would cease her fleeing to try to intercept him.

And there, she would die; range surrendered in the tight confines of the medical bay would render her blaster ineffective, and his lightsaber far too potent a threat to be stopped.

[DreadPirateMissus]

At first, Megaath was terrified when she heard the Trandoshan's voice echo down the halls. Vanad was all she had left of her flesh and blood. Father, Mother, little Maelik, all had been buried in the mass grave that left her and Vanad orphans. Tebiish was more dead to her than the rest, taken and hollowed out by Jedi madmen. But Meg and Vanad had survived hell together, and she knew how to seal a door. When Sarkh got to the med bay, he would find the door shut, sealed off from the rest of the ship's systems, with the controls panel severed from the actual door. He would have to cut through, and that might be possible, but it would cost him time. And that was something she wouldn't allow him anymore.

Blind Meg might not have been the best schooled person in the galaxy, but what she lacked in raw intelligence she made up for in wits and plain old lack of scruples. Her attacker was cold-blooded, and she knew cold-blooded creatures didn't handle temperatures on either extreme well.

You wanna play mean, scaly? She thought to herself, Let's play mean.

Oh, she would come out and face him, sure. But not until after she'd entered a command code and directive into the environmental controls. After that, she swiftly stepped back out, pistol at the ready, vibroblade (she hadn't extended it yet, so it was for all appearances a standard blade) in her offhand, and her aura emanating embraced darkness that no Jedi would dare venture into. As soon as Sarkh came into her senses, which wasn't long, she called out.

"You are a sorry excuse for a hunter, you know that? Can't tell an honest businesswoman from a Jedi freak? Besides, you're the one walking around with a laser sword, and it ain't gonna help you none. You know why?"

The grin that spread across her face was cold, and it was cruel, reflecting the tone in her voice. This was a woman prepared to die, but not quiet, and not alone.

"Because you're on MY ship."

The environmental directive in place, Sarkh would soon notice it getting hotter at an alarming rate. Megaath stopped just out of sight from the Med Bay, taking cover in a doorway, baiting him onward as she took note of his location, reached her blaster around the corner, and quickly fired two shots. One at his center mass, and one near the floor below him.

"And if you try to touch one single innocent strand on my sister's head, I will strip the meat off you, piece by piece, and sell you as food for dogs. Oh, and I will sell you CHEAP."

[lion]

It took little time for Sarkh to reach the med-bay; what little of the ship he had traversed had already burned into his memory deeply enough to recall without thought the path he had to take. Of course, the panicked signal of a living being within the Force was always helpful, akin to a flare ignited in the night upon his mind; it was hard to stray off course when the sense of fear pressed so hard against you.

But it seemed that this was smart prey, the Trandoshan found, stopping short just before the door. Something was amiss, something in the air felt different than it had when he had arrived the first time, bringing the reptile's fingers to tighten against the lightsaber in his palm. No, it wasn't the air that felt different per se, it was something missing; something that had come loose and out of place. A subtle shift in the environment that not only signaled that prey had been here, but that they had manipulated the environment to their liking...

The door.

The Force made clear what his native senses could have only guessed; the power had been cut to the door. Electricity that flowed to the doorway's circuits through wires beneath the flooring, that had once given a sensation of 'hum' beneath his sensitive feet, had disappeared; the flow had been cut either physically or through a breaker. It mattered little the method, of course, as Sarkh's mask-plates clicked together in frustration, the door was sealed shut and little bar hacking through the steel plates would get him through.

It was then that she called to him, loudly echoing through the ship her counter-threat and insult that could only bring an amused smile to Sarkh's face. Her speech, vibrating pulses of air altered by vocal cords, felt weak and strange to his ear-holes as they reached their reptilian target; almost like a tickle. Weak threats and ploys; prey hurled the verbal grenades when their physical means of defense had been removed.

Touched a nerve, did I, vile Jedi? I'll touch more when I peel the skin from you. Thought the Trandoshan, feeling a subtle rush flare through his hands, vividly recalling the familiar sensation of bloodied muscle tissue and flesh under his grasp. Humans were hardly pelt-worthy, not even their skin leathered properly, but the practice in skinning was certainly always welcome; idle hands that forgot their skills were unwelcome indeed.

"Don't lie; Jedi. I can feel you. Feel your fear gripping your tiny little heart just that little bit too tightly. Weak like the others. Can you feel the life of your friend in these bones? The life I snuffed out?" Sarkh countered, hissing and snarling not out of anger but for the added effect of reaching out to his target. She had heard him speak once and had shuddered from it; the fear had ran through her signature among the Force like water through a stream. After all, such a promising method of instilling panic was not to be ignored; no hunter forewent the weapon to which his target was most vulnerable.

The problem of the door remained, however, but it was hardly his primary concern; through the Force it was obvious that the threat alone had managed to draw his target to the location Sarkh had chosen for her, that was enough. What little he could actually feel of the human, her fears and her power, drew closer and stopped. She seemed to fade from his mind for moments at a time, drawing the Trandoshan into something of modest doubt himself for a moment, but it was quickly shoved from his mind; crushed down.

Something wasn't right...He felt strange. Off balance, uncomfortable; dizzy.

Suddenly from the corner, two blaster shots sounded; the high whine of charged tibanna bolts howling death. Distracted by the sudden rush going to his head, it was simply by chance that the Trandoshan was able to act in time to save his life; ducking low the blaster bolt aimed for his chest with just barely enough time for the bolt to sear the air above his head, whilst the second splashed against the floor in a shower of sparks and ozone.

Another wave of dizziness washed over Sarkh's mind ,and with a wince, the reptile struggled to shake it. He felt hot; the sands and the suns of Tatooine had done more damage that it seemed, as now it appeared that not even the ship was cool enough to fend off the temperature. Shaking his head, the Trandoshan stood up once more and began to advance down the hallway; his left hand dragging gently against the bulkheads forming the corridor walls both for balance and a sense of grounding.

Already the heat was intolerable, wearing on him, driving his body into panic that his mind rallied against with all it could. Each breath hurt to take as the ship temperature grew to ridiculously uncomfortable levels; there was nowhere to run that was cold enough and each step was a fight. Mouth agape to try to bleed off his body's internal temperature, Sarkh found no refuge; the air only grew hotter and, without the means to sweat to cool down, so too did he.

"I'm going to kill you, jedi dog!" Sarkh shouted, biting down against his own jaw with frustration in his eyes, scratching at the bulkhead with his claws as he rounded the corner, pushing down the early indicators of heat-stroke down as far and as hard as he could from his senses. It hurt already, but if he could go just long enough...Just long enough to catch the Jedi and drop her, then it could be fixed. 

The repetitious reassurances swirled through the reptile's mind as he slowly began to cook, the orders and instructions of his youth. Take pain, tolerate discomfort; endure all. He could; the jedi would not endure him.

[DreadPirateMissus]

Welp, guess he wasn’t giving up the Jedi thing. Whatever, Meg thought to herself, let him be wrong. It’s not gonna save him.

Initially, she didn’t verbally respond, choosing to let her blaster speak for her. As long as she had range, made sense to use it and buy more time for the temperature to hurt him. Paying attention to his aura, she waited until his claws connected with the metal of the walls before firing a fast series of five shots this time, first at the hand holding the saber, then two at his chest, one towards the abdomen, and last at his opposite foot. As the scent of ozone rose in the chamber, she chuckled darkly.

“Y’know, you wouldn’t be the first to accuse me of not having much of a heart, but somehow I think the humor’d be lost on you. So you killed some Jedi? Good for you, rid the universe of a little crazy. Wearin’ their bones smacks of overcompensation though, you ask me. Guessing they weren’t exactly masters?”

In a very fluid motion, she rolled backward as he rounded the corner closer to her, taking cover in a doorway again. As she did, she unlatched the fastenings that kept what looked like a double-edged vibro short blade, feeling its familiar weight in her off-hand as she sought out her next blaster target. This fight wasn’t going to stay ranged long, she knew, but she still had a few tricks up her sleeve.

Still, she had to be a little careful at this point. The heat would soon reach levels that would damage her health as well, and then the situation became more complicated. The hopeful conclusion would be that she dropped the Trandoshan before losing consciousness herself, and Zed would be able to get the heat down before either she or her medic sister sustained considerable damage. But that was only hopeful, and if she was going to get that far she’d need to either subdue this attacker fast, or conserve energy as much as she could.

It wasn’t a situation she was unfamiliar with. Living on the streets, there were many times when survival meant finding out the hard way how far you could push yourself. Those times didn’t normally angry Trandoshans with lightsabers, but it was something she hoped would prove an advantage that she had over her attacker.

[lion]

With his senses slowed by the ever-rising temperature of the ship, the arid air bringing the Trandoshan's blood up to an incredibly discomforting heat, the ferocious hunter's mind slowed. Disorientation and sensory lethargy addled his reflexes, and whilst the reptile's connection to the Force was enough to send his body into action, it was not completely enough to protect him from the hail of deadly beams hurtling down the ship's corridor.

The green lightsaber blade whipped viciously into a circular arc, by sheer instinct deflecting the first three bolts into the ceiling and floor respectively, but as the charged bolts bounced from the lightsaber, so too did the metallic tube pull free of the Trandoshan's palm. Fingers struggled in vain to maintain grip of the unwieldy Jedi weapon now sent tumbling to the deck; the emerald-green beam of death sent with a hiss back into its handle like a wounded Krayt Dragon retreating back into its lair.

There was no time to react, however, nor awareness left in the Trandoshan to be able to react, before the ever-hotter ship corridor spun about. A hot fist erupted against his abdomen; driving with one almighty heave the air from Sarkh's body as the twenty-seven year old doubled forward. The reptile's legs, powerful muscles knotted and tendons squeezing, shuddered to keep the body above it standing, but with another eruption of white-hot agony blossoming from his left ankle that sent his leg hurtling backward, there was nothing that could be done.

All the space of a single burst of fire, Sarkh hit the deck back first and wailed in frenzied agony; the reptile's vocal cords rasping and scraping in pain as nerves relayed signals to the brain. The smell of burned fabric and charred scales reached the huntsman's nostrils as he desperately struggled to draw breath and roll to his side; two decades of instinct falling into place as practical first nature rather than even second.

The first blaster shot, dangerously close to the Trandoshan's groin, had luckily been warded off by the bones of the unfortunate Talz victim Sarkh had opted to honour; the thick chunk of what had once been femur having taken the energy blast, sending bone fragments all over the deck and leaving Sarkh breathless rather than mortally wounded.

The shot to the ankle, however, had been the real damage-dealer; barefoot, there was only the thick scale-skin of the Trandoshan to stop the bolt, and it had been utterly devastated. The green-hued plates around the impact point had completely blackened and charred into a mangled, stinking mass; the foot itself would survive but the damage was done. Agony with each passing second ripped through Sarkh's brain, responding by releasing the adrenal fight-flight flood it kept in reserve to try to cope, but there was nothing the reptile could do.

Wounded, immobilized, nauseated and quickly reaching his thermal tolerances, Sarkh was as good as neutralised. Dangerous as perhaps any species in known existence even with a damaged foot and no weapons, but the fight was done. On his side, pain flowing through him, the hunter could only stare off into the bulkhead before him; feeling the heat through the floor through his facial scales. For a moment there was hope, Sarkh's right arm rising slightly to try to lift himself up from his side as if trying to grip the air as support, only to flop limply back against the powerful body, left helpless on the ship floor as both flesh and mind began to fail.

After the howling scream, there was only groaning that followed.