Force Sub: Dresden Files and Star Wars

[Narsil]

For this wee debate thread, we are going to take a popular figure from the Dresden Files (Harry) and a popular villain from the same (Cowl) and put them in several Star Wars-specific positions. Well, a few random areas that involve lightsabre fights. Neither Cowl or Harry will be put in place to fight each-other, or to fight alongside each other. Both characters are as of their latest appearances, armed with only what they can carry (blasting rods, staffs, amulets, shield bracelets... whatever), and assume that magical powers don't immediately disrupt lightsabres.

The first category, Harry's place in the game;

1: He's put in the very immediate position of Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon going up against Darth Maul during The Phantom Menace.

2: He's put up against Count Dooku in the place of Obi-Wan, Yoda and Anakin during Attack of the Clones

3: He's put in the position of the Jedi Masters who go up against Palpatine during Revenge of the Sith.

4: Another Revenge of the Sith one, he goes up against the dark-sided Anakin Skywalker, in place of Obi-Wan.

5: For the final Revenge of the Sith one, he goes up against General Grievous, in place of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

6: He's put in the position of Luke in Return of the Jedi, going up against that era's version of Darth Vader.

Cowl's version;

1: He's put up against Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan as of The Phantom Menace.

2: He's put up against Yoda as of Attack of the Clones.

3: He's put up against Obi-Wan Kenobi as of Revenge of the Sith.

4: He's put up against the Jedi Masters who went up against Palpatine.

5: He's put up against the inexperienced Luke Skywalker as of The Empire Strikes Back.

6: He's put up against the more experienced Luke Skywalker as of Return of the Jedi.

[Jedi Master Spock]

By "latest appearance," do you mean to take things from the books, or the TV show?

[Narsil]

What TV show? That never happened, you hear me... NEVER FUCKING HAPPENED!

... it's almost as bad as the delusional lot who claim that Greedo shot first.

[Praeothmin]

But, didn't Greedo shoot first?
;-)

Back to the tpopic, from what I've read of Dresden's universe, Harry sounds like their universe's version of Obi-Wan, only more powerful.
The Jedi will probably get beaten, but I have to admit I haven't read any of the books...

[Narsil]

He's actually their universe's version of Qui-Gon; a complete maverick and very constantly at odds with the Council's Code of Conduct.

Aside from that, yes, he is fairly powerful, via a collection of quotes;

I thought of all the subtle and devious means by which I might tilt the situation in my favor-clever illusions, convenient faltering of electricity or water, a sudden invasion of rats or cockroaches. I could have managed any of them. Not many people who use magic are that versatile, but very few have the kind of experience and training it takes to put such spells together on the fly.

I shook my head, irritated. I didn't have time to bother with subtlety.

Power into the talismans, then. Power into the ring. I reached for the power in both the staff and rod, cool strength of wood and seething anger of fire, and stepped up to the front door of the Varsity.

Then I blew it off its hinges.

I blew it out, rather than in. Pieces flew toward me and bounced off the shield of air I held in front of me, while others rained back behind me, into the parking lot. It wouldn't do to injure a bunch of innocent diners on the other side. You only get one chance to make a first impression.

Once the door was off, I pointed my blasting rod inside and spoke a command. The jukebox slammed back against the wall as though a cannonball had impacted it, and then melted into a puddle of liquid-plastic goo. The music squealed out the speakers and stopped. I stepped into the doorway and released a pent-up wave of energy from my ring. Starting at the door and then circling throughout the room, the lightbulbs began to explode with sharp little detonations and showers of powdered glass and glowing bits of filament. People at the bar and at all the wooden tables scattered around the room reacted as people tend to do in this sort of situation. They started screaming and shouting, rising to their feet or ducking beneath their tables in confusion. A few ducked out the fire door at the back of one side of the room. Then there was an abrupt and profound silence. Everyone stood stock-still and stared at the doorway-they stared at me.

At the back table, Johnny Marcone regarded the doorway with his passionless, money-colored eyes. He was not smiling. Mr. Hendricks, beside him, was glaring at me, his single eyebrow lowered far enough to threaten him with blinding. Spike was tight-lipped and pale. Gimpy stared at me in pure horror. None of them made any moves or any sound. I guess seeing a wizard cut loose can do that to you.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in," I said, into the silence. I planted my staff on the ground and narrowed my eyes at Marcone. "I'd really like to talk to you for a minute, John."

Murphy slithered out from between the beast's paws on her shoulder blades and buttocks, her cute little cheerleader's face set in a berserker's fury. She jammed the end of her little gun beneath the thing's chin. I saw her hands convulse on the trigger. But instead of a flash of light and a dead loup-garou, there was only the whooping of the alarm and a look of shocked surprise on Murphy's face. The gun had run empty.

"Murphy!" I shouted. "Roll!"

She saw me with the blasting rod and her eyes flew wide. The loup-garou shook its shoulders free of Carmichael's corpse and bit completely through the riot gun, thrashing its head left and right. Murphy scuttled sideways across the tiles and through the hole in the wall the beast had made earlier.

It took one snap at her and then whipped its head around to snarl at me. I saw the crimson light reflected in its eyes as I focused every bit of fury in the world on the tip of my rod, and shouted, "Fuego!" I saw the reflected image in the beast's eyes brighten to nuclear-white in front of a tall, lean figure of black shadow, saw the flood of energy as big around as my hips rush down the hall like a lance of red lightning and hammer into the beast. Sound rushed along with it, a mountain's roar that made the gunshots and screams of the evening seem like a child's whispers in comparison.

The power lifted the loup-garou, hurtling it over the wounded figures moaning on the floor, down the hall, into holding, through the security door, through the cell door immediately across from it, then through the brick exterior wall of the building and out into the Chicago night. But it wasn't over yet. The lance of power carried the loup-garou across the street, through the windows of the condemned building across from the station, and through a series of walls within, each one shattering with a redbrick roar. Before the red fire died away, I could see the far side of the building across the street, and the lights of the next block over through the hole the loup-garou had made.

I stood in a blood-splattered hallway, filled with the moans of the wounded and the wail of the escape alarm. The sounds of emergency vehicles drifted into the building through the ragged hole in the wall. A slender young black man stood up from the floor of the cell the loup-garou had smashed through and gawked at the hole in the wall, then followed the destruction back down the hallway to where I stood. "Damn," he said, and it had the same hushed tone to it as a holy word.

Murphy struggled out of the hole in the wall to pitch down on the floor of the hallway, gasping. I could see the bulge of bone warping out the skin of her lower arm where it had been snapped, somehow. She lay white faced and gasping, staring at Carmichael's crushed body.

For a moment, I couldn't do anything but stand there gawking. There was another hole in the wall, where the loup-garou must have crashed back into the hall, putting itself between the two groups of policemen, where they couldn't risk shooting at it without hitting one another. Or maybe they had. Some of the men who were down looked as though they had bullet wounds.

And from outside, over the sirens and the moans and the noise of a city night, I heard a long, furious howl.

"You've got to be kidding me," I breathed. My limbs felt like bruised jelly, but I turned to limp back around the corner and found Rudy there, staring, a paper cup in one hand and the Snoopy doll in the other. I took both from him, and stalked back into the hallway, to the second hole the loup-garou had made.

Note that Dresden is not in any way subtle or good at doing things with any elegance. He can do big, but doing subtle is a different matter for him entirely.