Beneath the surface of Lake Paonga lies the Gungan capital. Otoh Gunga is constructed in such a manner that leaves the Gungan city trapped beneath water pressures—potentially fatal to the denizens should the city be breached—converging on the lake’s vertical center and floating between the surface of the lake and the lakebed. Its location makes the capital difficult to find without knowing its precise location, remaining untouched during the Separatist occupation of Naboo.

Water-breathing species would be able to swim easily to its bubble-shaped buildings; however, those unable to remain submerged without air would find the distance impossible to swim. Therefore, breathing apparatuses are essential for those determined to make the journey themselves and without the aid of Gungan bongos. Its bubble-like buildings are hydrostatic force-fields that contain breathable atmospheres for their occupants and have special portals that allow the inhabitants to enter and exit. Since the Gungans actually grew the building material of their cities from the natural plasma of Naboo and bubble wort extract, the structure of Otoh Gunga is a hub and spoke design. Each of the bubble-like buildings are compartmentalized units, able to be sealed off at a moment’s notice.

The Gungan Grand Army utilizes patrols that make regular visits between the compartments. Favouring spears, atlatls, Electropoles and cestas for throwing boomas, these soldiers are the staunch defenders of Otoh Gunga. Sometimes armed with distributed Gungan personal energy shields capable of turning aside blaster bolts, these warriors are too-often underestimated, lending to their victories over the Trade Federation.

Most days of his life, Jon felt like the galaxy itself was out to get him. And there were the special days, when he knew it was. Today, sadly, was one of the latter kind.

“So, espionage, resisting arrest, endangerment of civilians….” the Jedi Knight - Creon, Jon reminded himself - listed off one after another. “That’s a long list of accomplishments for an hour.”

“Please,” Jon drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. “I’ll have you know I once racked up thrice that count, in a third of the time!” It was a lie, and Creon seemed unfooled.

“Really?” he said, as he quirked an eyebrow. “Do tell.” Jon remained silent, suddenly finding the floor to be the most fascinating thing he’d seen.

This had been their routine since Jon was brought in four days ago (at least he assumed it had been four days; it wasn’t easy to see the sun from underwater). Jon would sit alone in a holding cell for a few hours, before Creon would come in and try to fish some information out of him. About his mission, his employers, even his identity, to which Jon would respond with a bit of sarcasm or a red herring like that last one.

“The silent treatment it is then,” Creon sighed, frowning slightly. “You know, sooner or later the gungans will get tired of this, these games, and then they’ll just come in and-”

“Put the screws to me?” Jon snarked. “Torture me for info? Please.”

“You’re pretty confident for a man without a name.”

“I told you my-”

“-Alias?” Creon scoffed. Jon just groaned and leaned back in his chair. This routine was starting to wear on them both, and they both knew it. For the life of him, Jon couldn’t figure out why the Jedi was still trying.

The two stared each other down for a full minute, before Creon sighed, and walked back out the door without a word. Jon had to wonder if he was finally giving up this time, or just getting ready for yet another information gathering tactic.

“What a fine mess we’ve found ourselves in today, ey gents?” he said to himself. “So, how we gonna get out this one?” The room answered with silence, and Jon let his eyes slip closed. Then opened them when the door beeped a familiar string of notes. His evening meal, the only way by which he’d thus far been able to keep track of time, was arriving.

Except, it wasn’t the usual protocol droid, or even, thankfully, another one of the gungans (if he had to hear that damned accent of theirs one more time!), but rather, a familiar looking silver-and-gold plated astromech…

“Artemis? How did you get in-no, stupid question, doesn’t matter, just get me out of here!”

A quick hacking of his electro-cuffs later, and they were moving through the halls.

“I need to find the evidence room, they have my weapons, my gear, my hat,” Jon spat the last word. He’d understood them taking his weapons and gear, but you don’t mess with a man’s hat! Not that it mattered, once he had those things, they could head for the door and then...well, he’d come up with something. Assuming that Jedi didn’t find them again…..