Star Wars fan (f/43), starting cosplay...

There was a roaring in his ears and then deafening silence just before he fell half a meter onto his face. The surface that he was lying on was cool, metallic, and above all, hard. 

Fucking Scanlan and his banishment spells.

Percy’s head swam as he tried to pry his eyes open without retching violently. He’d never been able to get used to being banished via enchantment, and he always had a lousy time recovering. It seemed that this instance would be no different. He managed to rise to his hands and knees, groaning loudly. 

“Who the kriff are you?” 

He froze at the sound of a deep baritone before feeling cool metal on the back of his neck. He’d handled enough weapons in his time to know it was some sort of gun pressing against the base of his skull.  

I thought this was supposed to be a safe plane of existence. When I get my hands on that fucking gnome…

The weapon pressed more insistently against his skin. “Do you speak Basic?” 

“I speak Common, which it would seem you do as well,” Percy muttered. “Would you mind letting me at least stand up?” 

A large hand gripped him by the back of his coat, yanking him to his feet and then slightly off of them, leaving his toes dangling against the floor uselessly. Percy’s eyes widened immeasurably behind his spectacles as he took in the sight before him. 

He was in some sort of metallic room, the walls lined with various storage compartments and a handful of uncomfortable looking pull-down bunks. There was an unusual rumbling hum coming from beneath the metal deck below his boots, and peering forward, he could see a large window with what appeared to be darkness beyond it. No, not darkness…a night sky. Nothing but stars and black. A tingle ran up his spine. 

Standing in front of him were four men wearing some type of non-metallic armor. There was one with a skull tattooed on half of his face and a red bandana tied around his head, one with a pair of goggles in red and white armor, one with a deathly pallor and metal wrapping around his head, and a grey-haired one that appeared to be leveling some sort of rifle at him. He assumed that was the gun he’d felt on the back of his neck. Looking over his shoulder, he took in the scarred face of a fifth man, who was not much smaller than Grog, dangling him by his coat collar just an inch or so off the floor. 

“Unhand me!” he demanded, wriggling in the large man’s grip. The man with the metal wrapping around his head stepped forward, leveling a strange looking pistol at Percy’s head as he plucked Bad News from his grasp. 

“You can put him down now, Wrecker,” the one with the bandana conceded, and Percy heard the large man behind him grunt begrudgingly before he lowered Percy’s boots back to the deck. Percy turned and glared at the one called Wrecker as he straightened his coat before pausing, glancing between the faces all again. 

They’re clearly soldiers and also… eerily similar. Siblings perhaps. 

“I’m gonna ask again. Who are you?” the one with the bandana demanded. 

“Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III,” Percy sneered with more confidence than he felt. He eyed Bad News dangling from the pale man’s hand, and the man’s grip tightened. His sharp eyes flicked back to the skull tattooed one. Clearly the leader. “And who might you be?” 

The tattooed one smirked. “You want to tell me how you got here, Percival?”

Evasive. Fine.

Percy snorted. “I was banished here, if you must know, although I doubt this is what Scanlan had planned when he cast the spell.”

“Spell?” The goggled one stepped forward, readjusting his eyewear. “Certainly you can’t be implying you used magic to board our ship?” 

“Ship? What kind of vessel is this?” 

“We still have more questions, Percival.” 

Percy felt his patience getting shorter. “Yes, well so do I. I didn’t exactly plan on intruding, so the least you could do is stop pointing your weapons at me. You’ve unarmed me already as it is.” 

The others looked to the one with the bandana and skull tattoo, all but confirming Percy’s suspicions as to who was in charge, and he shrugged. “Fine, but you’re still going to explain how you got here.” 

Percy huffed. “I already told you. It was a banishment enchantment. I’ll only be here as long as Scanlan can keep his concentration, which if history is any indication, should be a relatively short amount of time. I’d appreciate it if you would return my rifle to me before then so that I can take it with me when I return to my plane.” He glared at the pale man, who was still watching him carefully. The thin one, who he now noted sported a crosshair tattoo over his right eye was looking over the pale one’s shoulder at Bad News. 

“What sort of rifle is it?” he asked, flicking a toothpick between his teeth. 

“What?” Percy asked, genuinely confused. 

The thin one rolled his eyes before taking Bad News from his compatriot, setting his own weapon against the wall. He rested the rifle against his shoulder, peering through the scopes. Percy felt his teeth grind in annoyance, his fists clenching. 

“This is a combustion weapon?” the thin one asked. 

“Of course. Have you never seen a gun before?” Percy snapped. His outburst didn’t appear to phase the soldier much as he flicked his toothpick to the other side of his mouth before glancing over at Percy.

“How uncivilized,” he sneered.

“I’d argue primitive,” countered the goggled one. 

“How dare you.” Percy lunged forward to retrieve his weapon, but found himself face to face with the strange pistol again. “If it’s so primitive, then you should have no problem in returning it to me,” he growled. 

The thin one shrugged. “Stand down, Echo. We’d all be able to kill him about six times over before he even got it loaded.” He tossed Bad News back to Percy, who managed to catch it with a minimal amount of fumbling. 

The pale one, presumably Echo, continued to glare at Percy as he reholstered his weapon. “You still haven’t really explained how you got here.”

“Yes I have. It was a spell.”

“Magic isn’t real,” the goggled one replied. 

“Did he hit his head when he landed?” Wrecker asked. 

“Seven times over then,” the thin one chortled. 

Wrecker laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. “Maybe you two should have a shootout, Crosshair.” 

Percy whipped his head around to look at the sniper. “Crosshair? Really? How original.”

“We can’t all be Lord of the Castle,” the sniper drawled back, bowing mockingly. 

“At least you can recognize a title when you hear one,” Percy muttered, straightening his jacket. 

“You’ll have to excuse us if we don’t curtsy,” the leader joked, crossing his arms over his chest plate. “You are still an intruder after all, even if your weapon is… inefficient.” 

Percy inspected the rifle, readjusting it slightly. “It gets the job done just fine.” 

Crosshair chuckled mockingly, but the goggled one was leaning forward, adjusting his eyewear again as he inspected Percy’s gun. “The alloy used for the barrell is… unusual. What did the maker select for it?”

“I’m the maker, and it’s a custom composition. The first few iterations were prone to blowing apart after only a shot or two, and I found that this kept the mechanisms from overheating, which typically led to the combustion issue. In addition, this particular alloy is more durable, so in the event that it experiences such an… anomaly, it’s less likely to become a source of shrapnel.” 

“I see,” the goggled one responded. “How interesting.”

“Figures Tech would find all this interesting,” Wrecker joked, slapping the goggled one roughly on the back and earning himself an eye roll. 

“What sort of range do you have with it?” Crosshair asked. 

Percy couldn’t help the slight flush of pride he felt erupting in his chest at the questions. It tickled his ego and undoubtedly softened him towards these strangers, at least for the moment. “I haven’t had time to fully test its range yet, but I’d estimate it can hit a shot up to and perhaps exceeding a kilometer.” 

That seemed to impress Crosshair less. He huffed at that, which caused Percy’s annoyance to flare once more. “That’s because of your ammunition,” the marksman commented snidely. “Lead ammunition is severely limited in its range.” 

Percy was becoming more exasperated. “And what sort of ammo would you suggest then?”

“Plasma of course.” 

“Plasma?”

“Yes. Is that so shocking, my lord?”

“It is.”

The leader waved his hand dismissively. “As much as I hate to interrupt this bonding moment, we still haven’t established what you’re doing here, Percival.” 

“Hunter, he’s clearly delirious if he thinks he was transported here via magic,” the one named Echo stated. 

“That or he’s just a fantastic liar.”

“I told you, it’s a spell.”

“And we told you there’s no such thing as magic.”

“Of course there is. Don’t be ridiculous.” 

Hunter smirked. “Alright then, if you’ve got magical abilities, please, demonstrate for us.”

Percy slipped Bad News onto his back, glowering at the five of them as they assembled in front of him, watching him expectantly. 

Can’t hex them. That won’t bode well in terms of convincing them I’m not a threat. A minor illusion should do the trick though. 

Inhaling deeply, Percy concentrated on Wrecker and how he looked, doing his best to emulate the largest of the soldiers, furrowing his brow as he muttered the incantation and flexing his fingers. After a few moments, he opened his eyes again. However, where he’d expected to see looks of awe and wonder, he found them all still staring at him, unimpressed as ever. Crosshair snorted. 

“He’s been hitting the spice too hard.” 

Percy stared down at his unchanged form. “I… I don’t understand. It must be something to do with this plane. I’ve never had difficulty casting before.” 

Hunter chuckled. “It’s fine Percival. We’ll be leaving for Coruscant shortly and should be there in a few hours. We’ll drop you off at the main port. Surely you can find your way home from there.” 

“Can you at least tell me where that is in relation to Westruun? Or are we even on the continent of Tal Dorei?” 

They stared at him blankly. Tech recovered and replied first. “We have never heard of either of those places. Can you tell us what sector they are in, or better yet what planet they reside on?”

“PLANET?” Percy suddenly felt queasy, and this time, he was unsure if it was a hangover from Scanlan’s spell or the fact that he just realized that he wasn’t just looking at the night sky out the front of this vehicle; he was in the night sky. 

Space travel. Remarkable. Unfeasible? And yet…

Tech and Hunter were swapping concerned looks. “Perhaps you should check him out medically,” Hunter murmured. “He seems like he’s had a very serious head trauma. Might need to sedate him.” 

“I’ve got it,” Wrecker said, grinning menacingly as he unholstered his blaster, clicking something on it. “Hold still now. This won’t hurt a bit.” He leveled the weapon at Percy. 

Hunter’s eyes widened. “WRECKER NO! We have meds for that! He-”

Before Hunter could utter another word, Percy pulled Bad News off his back, swinging it as hard as he could and bringing it down on the weapon that was pointed at him. Wrecker swore loudly as the pistol clattered to the floor. Percy lunged for it, managing to grab it and roll away, clutching both weapons to his chest. Just then, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and the small space began to feel as though it was suddenly electrically charged. 

Shit. I guess I can’t complain about his timing this once.

Purple sparks erupted into a ring around Percy, and the five soldiers leapt away from him. He smirked. “Well, I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure gentlemen, but-” 

Percy disappeared into the portal before he could complete his mocking farewell. The ring of purple sparks and energy immediately winked out of existence. Tech stepped forward after a few seconds, scanning the area. “It would appear that he’s gone.”

“Thank you for that astute observation,” Crosshair muttered.

“Maybe he wasn’t lying about the magic,” Wrecker said, his voice filled with awe as his jaw hung open.

“You might be right,” Echo agreed. 

Hunter had recovered slightly. “Alright. Enough. I don’t want to have to fill out a report about this because I have no kriffing idea where I’d even start, so let’s all just agree that this never happened and get back to Coruscant. Understand?”

His four subordinates nodded at him, and he muttered under his breath as he returned to the cockpit. 

“And I thought the Jedi were strange…”

—

Percy didn’t manage to keep himself from vomiting this time. He missed Scanlan’s boots by mere inches as the gnome danced away from the ejecting bile that was covering the city cobblestones. “Is that all the thanks I get for keeping you safe? Next time remind me to just leave you wherever you got sent to.” 

Percy spat to clear his mouth as Vex offered him a flask. Her expression was somewhere between sympathetic and revolted as he rinsed his mouth out and spat again before launching into a tirade, waving the flask at the gnome threateningly.

“Now listen here, you pompous little ingrate, if you want to be a smartass, I’ll just let the next person you piss off in a tavern take you outside and give you what you deserve.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, pushing himself to a standing position as he handed Vex back the flask. 

“What’s that?” Pike asked quietly, pointing at Percy’s feet. Percy glanced down, noting the pistol he’d grabbed from Wrecker’s hands had come with him through the portal. “One of the weapons my latest acquaintances was carrying.” 

“Acquaintances?” Vex asked. 

“Weapon?” Keyleth asked simultaneously. 

Before anyone could stop him, Scanlan picked up the blaster, inspecting it meticulously. “Where do the bullets go?”

“Scanlan, what makes you think that’s a good idea? You haven’t the faintest idea how to fire a gun,” Vax teased. Scanlan stuck his tongue out at him. 

“They don’t use bullets. At least that’s what they claim,” Percy replied, unable to suppress a slight smile at Vax’s mockery. 

“Don’t use bullets? Then what kind of gun-” Scanlan squeezed the trigger on accident, sending a volley of blue energy rings erupting from the muzzle. The rings struck Vax in the chest, and he went stiff before collapsing backwards onto the ground with a resounding thud. Pike and Keyleth raced over to him, falling to their knees next to his twitching form. 

“He… he’s just unconscious,” Pike sighed with relief. She clutched her holy symbol, pressing her other hand to Vax’s chest and murmuring a healing incantation. The half-elf’s eyes fluttered open, and a trail of drool leaked from the corner of his mouth. 

“Wha da fook was tha?” he asked, his tongue lolling in his mouth as his eyes seemed to struggle to focus. 

“MY TURN NEXT!” Grog roared, charging forward to try and take the weapon from Scanlan. 

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! If there’s one thing we’ve learned, it's that strange weapons that Percy brings back from unknown places are bad,” Scanlan stated, stepping out of reach of Grog. “Besides, I don’t want this to be around when Vax fully comes to. For reasons.” Glancing around, he grinned as he noted the river at the end of the avenue they were congregated on. Before anyone could stop him, he took off sprinting towards it, winding up and heaving the strange weapon into the river. 

Percy gripped his hair, grinding his teeth in annoyance. “I wanted to study that!” 

Vex placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s probably for the best, dear.”

Percy scrubbed his fingers across his face, rubbing under his spectacles in frustration for a few more moments. “I suppose you’re right. But still… fucking Scanlan.”

A/N: The original title of this fic was "Fucking Scanlan" but I realized that could have multiple meanings (many of which align perfectly with Mr. Shorthalt's character)... so. "Banished" it is.