It all happened in a daze, and Jax was only dimly aware of it all. He acted on instinct, neither knowing nor caring what had happened, only wondering how to end it all. He remembered, though as if from observed through a peep hole, of several Knights entering the cantina, of the feeling of ice that encompassed him. Then, out of nowhere, chairs flew in at them, and then all became chaos as screams erupted, howls of fury and fear echoed through the chambers.
Doc's voice was one of these, his deep, hoarse voice reverberating with ancient war cries that he doubtless picked up in his travels, he forsook weapons and descended into the melee.
Jax was aware, too, of attacks coming from all quarters, perhaps one was a Knight, but others were just bystanders with a grievance, using the ruckus as an excuse. Things were too tight for his short sword and lightsabre, and so he resorted to his fists, delivering a blow here and there, not stopping to see if the blow landed. He was dimly aware, too, of a bottle being thrown at his head and he ducked under the counter. He looked up to see a Knight circle around his friend, and stretched out his arm to fling the combatant away, and in that instant he saw a red and black blur come straight to him, felt himself be yanked over and behind the counter, saw shards of wood spray out like confetti - and then he noticed the implacable gaze of a Mandalorian helmet staring, just inches away, at him.
He felt himself blanch, felt such fierce fear, that he knew he wouldn't survive, for Mandos weren't known for their love of Jedi. Yet the armoured villain didn't plunge metal into his gut, but stood, drew his dual blasters, and dived into the fight.
Thanking the Force profusely, he picked up an errant bottle off the floor and threw it into the brawl as he jumped on to the counter top. Picking his target carefully - a large Skakoan - he dives at him, knocking over one or two behind him. His fists fly in at the green face, his knuckles graze over the metal mask, tearing flesh, until all struggles fleas his prone body. Jax jumped up and looked round for Doc, saw him fighting in a group, and, with a quick Force shove, took Doc by the arm. The Duros turned angrily on the human, but his snarl lifted as he recognised his friend.
'We've got to go,' Jax yelled. 'Use the fight as cover!'
Doc looked round to find the Knights embroiled in their own engagements, paying them no heed. Doc nodded brusquely and turned to the corner exit. Jax followed, taking care to hide from the Mandolorian - but as he reached the exit, he cast a glance back over his shoulder to sight his rescuer. He was putting up one hell of a fight, as befitting a true Mandalorian, and he could probably survive to see another day, but Jax kept on replaying that moment in his mind, and he couldn't just leave him to it. Motioning for Doc to guard the exit, he plunged back in.
Immediately he was set upon by a Knight, who seemed to be more surprised at finally finding his prey. But he had no chance to seize his good luck, as Jax head-butted him and then, when he fell down to the ground, cradling his broken nose, kicked him in the side of the head, twice, for good measure. Dancing around the brawling combatants, Jax finally reached the armoured rescuer. He laid a hand on the shoulder, and blocked the blind jab he was expecting. He leaned close to wear he approximated the aural fixture to be, but he still felt he had to yell to be heard.
'I guess I should thank you. For saving my life.' he paused, a mischievous smile flitting over his features, but for once denied the impulse. He wanted to make a good impression, after all. It was so rare that he got to do that, and he thought it was never smart to wise-crack in front of a testy Mando.
'We're using the cover of the fight to escape. You can come if you want.' he yelled. If the Mando had replied, he couldn't hear it in the hubbub. He nodded to the side exit. 'It's up to you, Buckethead. You coming?'
I am a Star Wars fan. That doesn't mean that I hate or love Jar Jar. That doesn't mean I hate or love Lucas, or agree or disagree 100% with him. That doesn't mean I prefer the PT over the OT, or vice versa. That doesn't mean I hate the EU, or even love all of it (or even read all of it). These are not prerequisites. Being a man is not a prerequisite. Being a geek is not a prerequisite. The only prerequisite is that I love something about Star Wars. I am a Star Wars fan.