Feldraeth Posted February 10, 2015 Share Posted February 10, 2015 (edited) Comments @Lunafox: I don’t think my intention made it across. The pleasure slave backstory for the SI is all too common. However, Feravai is unique in that she knows she has power, uses it whenever and on whomever she wishes. Compare and contrast her with Elliotcat’s Meenah, for example. Meenah is a strong and capable character who knows her worth and that she has power but cannot use it and is forced to submit to some nasty people. Another example is Xletalis’ Poena (youtube channel), who is again a strong capable character, who doesn’t know she had power and is forced to serve her master and his allies, as seen in this EDIT: When mentioning a link, it helps to, oh I don’t know, add the link. EDIT: I've found and added the link to Elliotcat's Meenah @Bright_ephemera: Wow, Winston always comes across as charming, but each situation just made him slick. Also, I like the way that the framing device is a class he’s teaching. All we’re missing is brooding Quinn in a corner distracting most of the female students (and some of the guys too ) @Bright_Ephemera and DSM: Wow, I knew from your Drokk’it saga that Fenn’rys was a bit of a manipulative cow, but Damn… How many others has she set up like that? Was Vector in on this? Lokin? Ensign Puppy-dog eyes (alternatively, Ensign settling because Watcher 2 said no). How many are deceiving Wynston? Quinn (okay, that’s a given, but because of Fenn’rys). The only person he can trust is Pierce Junior and he can only trust him to be as awesome as his father. @Bultitudes_Loke: thanks, but what do you mean ‘indoctrinated’? It’s all perfectly rational and reasonable… (wait for it)… from a certain point of view. Namely, that from a ten year old who’s been raised to think such a way and has at best an academic understanding of the Empire (from Ragate and Supernova animavids) . Prompt: Religious Differences, Alternate Perspectives Title: The Holocall Perspective: Noctaire Word Count: 824 and 1052 Spoilers: None for once, I might actually use the Alternate Perspectives prompt properly. I’d put it off long enough: better get it over and done with. I typed the frequency into the holocomm and hit the connect button. The device buzzed once, twice, three times… maybe I should just leave a message. It’s not like we’re both busy people. I have a whole sublight drive to lube and she’d have classes. I reached for the record button, and the machine helpfully connected. A woman manifested in monochrome blue over the device. Damn. She wore long skirts made from a rough woollen material I wouldn’t be caught dead in under a coat made from the same stuff. Wrinkles lined her mouth and jaw, causing deep crags to run down her neck. She hid the upper half of her face hidden under her headdress, not because of shame but for the benefit of others. She didn’t have any eyes. “Detina,”she stated simply and a flicker twitched up my arm. I hated that name, always had, yet she still used it. I bit down on the rising snark: it wouldn’t help me get what I want, not that there was much chance of the ***** queen listening to me. “Uh, could you put Kailee on?” I knew the answer, the same answer she’d given the dozen times I’d asked. She sighed. “You know I cannot, Detina,” she answered, with rehearsed serenity. She knew I’d ask. I’d asked every time we’d spoken. Gee, it’s almost like real mothers want to see their daughters. “I go by Noctaire, Master Jedi,” I fired back, granting the honorific as much honour as toilet paper. It’s no better than the sanctimonious sack of ***** deserved. “So I’ve heard. You’ve made quite a name for yourself arms-dealing, just like the degenerate whose name you took.” “Dad wasn’t a degenerate, and you of all people would know that, Mom.” I snapped at her. Dad took me in after she cast me aside for not being special enough. He taught me how the galaxy worked and how to make your way in it without the ‘oh so special’ powers people like her laud over the rest of us. The Master Jedi can lift a pencil with her mind, spout vaguely worded prophecies and hide away in the core: I can make a spice-baby see clearly for the first time, or save a dying father of three. Whom does society value more? “I will love your father’s memory until I join him in the force, but that will not change the fact that he was a degenerate and a criminal. How’s my Padawan you stole for a husband.” I didn’t let her get to me. She was baiting me, trying to get me angry so she could feel all justified in cutting the call off. You know what: it worked. I hadn’t stolen her Padawan. Her former Padawan and I had fallen in love and seen each other over a series of years before finally getting married. “Still alive: no thanks to you. How’s my daughter you stole for an initiate,” I fired back. We’d had this argument a thousand times; and every time it still ripped open weeping gashes in my heart. “Kailee wasn’t stolen. The family gave consent, as per Miraluka custom,” she stated, in a matter of fact tone that made me want to develop force powers just so I could throttle her from across the connection. Typical Jedi technique: Dodge and evade the big bad emotions. News flash, living things feel and that includes Jedi. I remember her panic-stricken voice eight years ago, when she’d come to my ship and told me how her vaunted Jedi had gotten my Anakin killed, along with an entire ship’s worth of children. “I didn’t give consent. You signed the waiver for me while I was still high from the painkillers.” “I know, and accept that you will never forgive me for that, but it was the will of Ashla.” It was her mantra, a silly superstition that harked back to the days when Miraluka worshipped the light and dark sides of the force as the spirits Ashla and Bogan. It was also wrong: there’s no will involved in any of this. I didn’t inherit the sequence of genes that syncs my mind up to the midichlorians’ network. Neither did 99.9999% of the galaxy, assuming averages. A little girl wandered into view and my rage suddenly didn’t seem to matter any more. I’d recognise her anywhere. Mother didn’t look around or glance down at her granddaughter: she didn’t have to. Instead, she tapped something and the image disintegrated, leaving me in my big, empty ship. I… I saw her. I saw my Kailee. I was vaguely aware of the plush cough exploding under my weight, the beeping of the system approach alarm warbling through the lounge, the grumbling of the sublight drive starting up with barely enough lubricant. It didn’t matter. I’d seen her: Happy Birthday to me. I fished my beeping holocomm from my robes and pressed the talk button. A small figure manifested on top of it, not that it helped much. I could make out the translucent outline and that was about it. I am Miraluka, and I am blind in the conventional sense. I reached out with the force and felt for the caller. Ashla gave me sight enough to see my youngest in the lounge of her father’s ship. She wore an uncomfortable looking blue jacket over a white vest, brown slacks and felynx patterned socks. She’d done something to her face, and cybernetics marred her beautiful cheeks. About one in four pure Miralukans are born without eyes, and half of us cannot use the ones we have. My daughter was among the latter, but she thought to spit in Ashla’s face and cloned herself a working pair. They were beautiful, twinkling a brilliant green despite what they were: a lie. “Detina.” Like many names, it was prophetic: it meant ‘mother of champions’. As with my other two daughters, I had looked to the unifying force and begged for a name worthy of my loves. Ashla had granted my wish, and I’d loved Niella; a champion of the order; Enya, the little flame who became one with the force when her survey ship was destroyed; and Detina, the mythical shield bearer of a mighty warrior and the mother of champions. “Uh, could you put Kailee on?” she knew the answer, the same answer I’d given the last dozen times she’d asked. I couldn’t. Kailee is at a delicate moment, where she learns to transcend her feelings and commune with the force. She already casts more power than I possess with every meditation and we cannot risk her forming attachments at this vital juncture. Her falling to the dark side would harm so many it didn’t bear considering. “You know I cannot, Detina,” I answered, as calm as I could manage. Her calm façade fractured, and the dragon that made Hutts quail reared behind her cloned eyes. “I go by Noctaire, Master Jedi,” she sniped back, pouring as much scorn into my title. It burnt into me, as it should. A six letter word wasn’t worth her hatred. “So I’ve heard. You’ve made quite a name for yourself arms-dealing, just like the degenerate whose name you took.” She worked for Rogun the Butcher, a violent psychopath. I would have sent a Jedi team his way, but he transported weapons for the Republic and struck out at the slave trade, so he was lower on our agenda than others. Stil, the thought of that Chagrian contracting my Detina made my skin crawl. “Dad wasn’t a degenerate, and you of all people would know that, Mom.” She snapped. Despite his many failings, had always tried to live up to his daughter’s expectations of him. It’s why he took on those Wequay thugs in that Nar Shaddaa back alley, because they had made lewd propositions at her. He’d died half a galaxy away from me, but I’d been with him, right up till he cast off his crude matter. “I will love your father’s memory until I join him in the force, but that will not change the fact that he was a degenerate and a criminal,” I reasoned. It was true: he was a reprobate and a scoundrel, a womaniser and a smuggler and I loved him all the same. They say a Jedi must never know love, but it isn’t that simple. We must transcend our emotions to safely commune with Ashla, but transcendence isn’t ignorance. We feel as others do, we love, we hate, we laugh and we grieve just like everyone else. What separates us is that we can put these feelings aside for a little while. “How’s my Padawan you stole for a husband.” I asked. I always liked asking about Tarmin, he was a moderating influence on my Detira’s mercenary ways and she on his flammable nature. Even when I had to officially shun them on their sabbatical, I always thought they made a good couple. “Still alive: no thanks to you;” I had sent him on his last mission, and he was still recovering, “How’s my daughter you stole for an initiate,” she fired back. We’d had this argument a thousand times; and every time it still ripped open weeping gashes in my heart. “Kailee wasn’t stolen. The family gave consent, as per Miraluka custom,” I stated as calmly as I could. If only she saw as I could, she would understand. The Unifying force granted us visions of what could be, and I had seen Kailee as a resplendent “I didn’t give consent. You signed the waiver for me while I was still high from the painkillers.” Her words were cold. I don’t mean she didn’t care: that was patently untrue. No, she cared so much, the fury in her words burned so hot they felt cold. That cold radiated out and I could feel her, in hyperspace, approaching the Bright Jewel system. “I know, and accept that you will never forgive me for that, but it was the will of Ashla,” I started, but someone padded into my chambers. The cold disintegrated, and I knew who it had to be. Ashla, please no. don’t let me fail, not after everything I’ve endured and lost. I reached out and disconnected the holocomm before it was too late. Detina disintegrated into motes of blue as I turned to look at my granddaughter. “Who was that?” she asked, open curiosity leaning her cherubic head to one side. “Someone who will one day be important to you,” I answered, smiling as serenely as I could at her, “now, run along Youngling.” Kailee looked at me strangely, seeing me without eyes. She was strong in the force and it certainly told her I was holding something back, but it didn’t matter for now. She trusted me with the blind faith of a child, as Detina once had. Ashla, please don’t harden her heart like her mother’s. “Yes Master Maga,” she acquiesced and scampered off, to seek out the others of her clan. Sighing, I slumped back into my chair. I had another seven years of this before her time of paths. Ashla, preserve me. Edited February 22, 2015 by Feldraeth Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Striges Posted February 10, 2015 Share Posted February 10, 2015 (edited) @Feldraeth: Oddly enough, despite the anger and hostility in both stories, the feeling I’m left with is a profound sadness. Both of these women are so locked in their own viewpoints they can’t comprehend even a tiny bit of the other’s. Both believing they’re doing what’s right. Both sure the other is wrong. Perhaps it’s appropriate they’re Miraluka. For all their enhanced or replaced vision, they’re both blind. I can't see any chance of reconciliation. I was a little confused by the mention of Rogun in Maga’s story, in conjunction with Noctaire taking her father’s name. I thought the implication was that Rogun was her father, which didn't make sense if I’d read Noctaire’s piece correctly. A bit of comparison cleared it up. Edited February 11, 2015 by Striges Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lunafox Posted February 10, 2015 Share Posted February 10, 2015 (edited) @ Feldraeth Comments @Lunafox: I don’t think my intention made it across. The pleasure slave backstory for the SI is all too common. However, Feravai is unique in that she knows she has power, uses it whenever and on whomever she wishes. Compare and contrast her with Elliotcat’s Meenah, for example. Meenah is a strong and capable character who knows her worth and that she has power but cannot use it and is forced to submit to some nasty people. Another example is Xletalis’ Poena (youtube channel), who is again a strong capable character, who doesn’t know she had power and is forced to serve her master and his allies, as seen in this EDIT: When mentioning a link, it helps to, oh I don’t know, add the link. Thanks for clarifying, I appreciate it. I haven't had time to read everything here, I'm woefully behind, so I appreciate the links you gave me, in particular Poena's story on youtube. That's amazing, how people can put together such amazing vids. I wish I had that talent. I do see the point you're making, in terms of story differences, and whew, am I relieved. Hard to know if you're different or not, when you haven't been part of a lot. Also I want to say that I agree with Striges about your stories. I was left with a real sadness after I read both the viewpoints. All too real, actually. So many families behave this way, and some never sort it out, even after it's too late. It seems like that's what will happen here. It will take someone's death perhaps, before any kind of peace is made. The real or imagined slights that both parties feel, drive it home even more. I was so sad, when her little daughter appeared, only to be disconnected, without even getting to say a word. Tragic. :/ Edited February 10, 2015 by Lunafox Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bultitudes_Loke Posted February 10, 2015 Share Posted February 10, 2015 @Feldraeth Touche, perhaps an overly subjective term. However all that material is propaganda, implanting Imperial doctrine, so Roan has been indoctrinated... Either way, I liked what you did there. Also on these two new stories, I'm going to echo Striges. It's sad that this is a rift that sounds unlikely to be healed, because of the single-mindedness of both protagonists. Tragic, almost. Nice writing Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
alaurin Posted February 13, 2015 Share Posted February 13, 2015 WOW has this thread ever been busy lately!! I'm thrilled about that, but I have a lot of catching up to do before I can make comments. I'm so sorry for posting a story without commenting, but I promise I'm working my way through the pages since my last post and will comment as soon as I can. I'll probably get the index updated over the weekend, but I did want to welcome our two new authors, Lunafox and josephinec!! Now, I'm gonna sneak in a story for this week's prompt before it changes! Title: Broken Prompt: Religious Differences, Dreams/Nightmares, and Bad Memories Character: Roslynd Lauren-JK, Lord Scourge Setting: Defender, soon after A Damaged Soul Spoilers: JK Act 2 finale/Act 3 beginning *warning: some dark memories and mentions of violence with one teeny graphic bit which you can avoid by skipping the red italic text. The rain came down, washing away the blood and cooling her fatigued body. She looked around the encampment deep within the thick jungle. Carnage surrounded her, but the only sounds were the gentle patter of rain hitting the lush leaves of the trees and an occasional cry of a dying slave. She felt her lips twitch in a smile, proud of breaking the pathetic rebellion so quickly. She turned to the Pureblood who’d joined her as she surveyed the scene and he chuckled softly. “You’ve done well, apprentice.” “Thank you, Master,” she answered, “It’s been a pleasure.” As they turned to leave, a hand reached out to grasp her boot and she paused, looking down at the pitiful face of a broken slave as he softly pleaded with her to help. She jerked her ankle away from his grasp, then stomped on his hand, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone under her heel. “You rebel against the Empire then dare ask it’s servant to help you?!” she sneered, then raised a questioning brow at the Chaskar. A cruel laugh escaping her as she ignited one of her red sabers when he nodded and a second later, the slave’s head rolled away from his body. The young Jedi bolted upright in her bed, her heart racing as her body shook. Feeling sick at the memory that she just relived, she rushed out of her quarters and barely made it to the refresher before retching. She stood there for a moment, then went to the sink to rinse out her mouth, catching her reflection as she did so. She sighed in relief at the silver eyes of her reflection, but she knew they’d glowed bright orange not that long ago. It’d only been a couple of weeks since she’d returned to Tython with Lord Scourge, and while she was physically recovered from what had happened at the Emperor’s Fortress, mentally she had a long way to go. Memories were still surfacing in her dreams, some she’d already recalled, others like the one that just visited her were new. She needed more time to heal on the inside, but time was something they didn’t have. Lord Scourge immediately informed the Council that the Emperor already had plans in motion for the prison planet of Belsavis. Plans that would start an irreversible chain reaction to destroy the planet and those surrounding it. So instead of being on Tython where she could find healing from her fellow Jedi or at home in the loving arms of her family, she was aboard her ship en route to Belsavis. She noticed her face was starting to look a little gaunt as she gathered her thick white blonde tresses into a ponytail, and knew she’d lost weight. The dark circles under her eyes attested to her lack of sleep, but there was little she could do. Her dreams were plagued with the horrors she’d wrought under the Emperor’s control and the more she remembered, the less she desired to eat. It didn’t even matter to her anymore, she was disgusted with herself and all the loathsome things she’d done. She killed without remorse and made many suffer, taking perverse pleasure in it like a true Sith. She didn’t deserve to live and no longer cared if she did. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep, she went into the cockpit and sank into the pilot’s seat. She hugged her knees to her chest, letting the tears fall freely as she watched the stars streak by. “Memories plaguing you, Jedi?” a deep voice spoke up from behind her. “What’s it to you…..Sith?” Ros shot back, not even trying to hide her annoyance. “Touché,” Scourge chuckled, “It seems your spirit is still intact in there after all. I was wondering if it would ever make an appearance again. You’ve certainly been wallowing in self-pity a lot these days.” Ros glared at him and Scourge regarded her for a moment, those unusual silvery eyes combined with golden skin and white blonde hair made for a very striking effect. He could see why the medic and the Sergeant were both captivated by the young Human even if she was letting herself waste away. It’s possible he might’ve had the same reaction when he was a young man, before the Emperor’s gift of immortality, back when he still felt things. “I know you’re remembering what happened while under his control,” his deep, quiet voice broke the tense silence, “and high time you face the facts, deal with it, and move on.” “Oh, let’s see,” Ros snapped, silver eyes flashing at the tall Pureblood, “I slaughtered slaves and children while that twisted thing was having me trained as a Sith, I returned to his fortress, the dark side swirling through me and he had me torture my friends……..and you just want me to move on?!” “Shedding tears and being angry with yourself serves no purpose,” Scourge countered, “By all means, be angry, use it to destroy the man that did this to you. Don’t just let it consume you as you do nothing.” “I’m doing something,” Ros gestured at the window, “We’re on our way to Belsavis to stop your former boss aren’t we?!” “And as weak as you are you’ll be lucky to survive the fight that’s sure to break out.” Scourge sighed, “Do you know why he had you do those things?” Ros shook her head, not sure she wanted to know but stayed silent and Lord Scourge continued, “You both fascinated and angered him. Your mind and will were very strong. The other Masters he took over quickly and sent them on after they were healed, but you……you fought him. Even when he had a firm hold on your mind, there was still a shadow of your true self residing within……waiting like a coiled serpent ready to strike at the first sign of weakness. He knew there was a possibility you might retake control someday and he wanted to punish you for that. He was the ultimate power and you dared to challenge that…..no, you would pay dearly if you ever broke free and escaped. By the way it looks, he’s succeeding……you’re letting him win without even putting up a fight!” “What would you have me do?!” Ros bristled, “You want me to just forget what I did? I can’t do that! I hurt innocent people…..I hurt my friends!!!” “Those children weren’t innocents,” Scourge told her, “They weren’t even children. They were powerful acolytes, specifically chosen for their youthful appearance to make you think you’d killed younglings. The slaves were captive resistance mercenaries and soldiers perfectly capable of defending themselves and definitely not innocents. Were they an even match for a powerful force user? No, but they weren’t defenseless either.” “What about my friends……what happened to them while I was training?” “The little droid was fitted with a restraining bolt and put in my care,” Scourge told her, “The Jedi, the medic, and the alien….” “He has a name…..Sergeant Fideltin Rusk, not ‘the alien,’” Ros snapped, “and the Jedi has a name as well, it’s Kira Carsen and up to her how she wants to be addressed by you……call Doc whatever you want.” “Fine, Sergeant Rusk……may I continue?” Scourge amended, smiling a little at the return of the spirited young woman he’d met back on Quesh, perhaps there’s still hope after all. “They were taken to a holding cell to await your return. They were treated well considering the circumstances. Being an alien, Sergeant Rusk was fitted with a shock collar and would be taken as a slave after he served his purpose with you.” “Why have me torture my friends?” Ros wondered, “I finished training…..why not send me off like the other Masters. Why did he have me do those things to them? Why did he have them watch?” “Because he could,” Scourge answered simply, “He wanted to test you, break you, punish you, and it probably amused him as well. Having them watch as you went to each of them, that was just another way for him to torture them and he fed off their hatred and rage. Think about it, Jedi……” “Ros,” she sighed, irritated at the way he used the term ‘Jedi’ almost like an insult, “If we’re going to be working together, you can call me Ros or Roslynd if you prefer. Referring to me and Kira as ‘Jedi’ is going to get confusing.” “Point taken,” Scourge nodded, “Kira was his way of punishing you both. He was angry that you helped her become free of his control when you destroyed Darth Angral. She was his ‘child’ so to speak and you took her from him. That was unforgivable. He wanted her to pay for defying him and he wanted back in her mind. Making you torture her would hurt both of you……she would eventually break and if you ever freed yourself, you would have to live with the memory of torturing your friend.” “That I can understand,” Ros admitted, “but the others…….” She trailed off, still sick at the thought of what she did with Doc and to Rusk. “He was in your mind, he knew how many times you had rebuffed the medic’s advances, how his casual attitude toward woman disgusted you,” Scourge shrugged, “Having you seduce Doc was his sense of poetic justice and it amused him to see the innocent young Jedi give herself to the rake she’d refused time and time again. He knew you would hate yourself for it and I can easily see by your expression that he wasn’t wrong.” “You’ll have to forgive me for being less than thrilled that I gave my virginity to someone like Doc,” Ros retorted. “Yes, I’m sure you had visions of some great love like in those silly novels women like to read,” Scourge scoffed, “But keep in mind that Doc had seen you torture Kira the day before……not everyone has what it takes to put themselves through something like that.” “No…..Doc is definitely not one who would take that well,” Ros sighed, “but Fideltin saw it as too and he…..” “Is a soldier,” Sourge finished, “The Emperor looked forward to seeing you seduce that one. He knew Sergeant Rusk would resist and relished watching you torture another friend before forcing yourself on him. Something else you would hate yourself for if you ever broke free. The Emperor was most displeased when Rusk took that away from him by not only giving in before you broke him, but taking over the aggressive role and turning what should have been a degrading experience for you both into something pleasurable and good for you to remember.” Scourge shuddered, “It’s a good thing you freed your mind when you did, Jedi….Roslynd, because the Emperor was going to personally see that Sergeant Rusk paid dearly for that.” “I wish I could have freed myself sooner,” Ros sighed, feeling terrible about what she did to both Kira and Rusk. She was also a little embarrassed by the way her body heated as she recalled how those gentle hands felt on her skin. “Well, you didn’t,” Scourge pointed out harshly, “and it’s high time you deal with it. My vision of the one who destroyed the Emperor wasn’t some sad, pathetic little Jedi that shrunk away from her own memories. No, that Jedi was a fighter, strong, confident, unafraid….and I need that Jedi, the same young woman who confronted me on Quesh, because only that Jedi will be able to defeat the Emperor. Can you do that? Can you be that Jedi again?” “I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same,” Ros admitted, “I still feel connected to it……the Dark side.” “The Dark side of the Force isn’t necessarily bad you know,” Scourge chided as he crossed his arms, “It’s just another aspect. Your Order is so rigid, everything is black and white. You Jedi are discouraged from emotional attachments and taught to ignore passion. You see anger as a bad thing when it’s what freed you in the end.” “The Light side doesn’t cause corruption,” Ros countered, “And the Sith Academy on Korriban is a horrible place! Acolytes waiting in the shadows to ambush their peers, students tasked with fetching relics from dark tombs and if they return empty handed, they’re killed! I’m frankly shocked that the Dark Council can get anything accomplished with all the infighting that goes on in the Sith ranks.” “Oh we Sith are far from perfect and there are many who are disgusted by the petty power plays that continue to plague our ranks, but we’re strong in that we don’t fear our emotions, we don’t try to hide or repress them. It’s where you Jedi come up short. Do you know why Jedi are so easily turned? So quickly seduced by the Dark side and corrupted? It’s because they were never allowed to feel it……never taught to properly handle the temptation. Think about a parent never allowing their child to have sweets. What do you think happens the first time that youngling is given a cookie?” “They’d probably go nuts and swipe another,” Ros conceded. “Exactly,” Scourge nodded, “That child would likely gorge themselves. It’s the same with Jedi who are exposed to Dark Side force use after being denied it for so long.” “I remember how it felt,” Ros murmured, “It was warm, but not gentle and calming like the Light. It was different…..it was…” she trailed off as a familiar tingle washed over her skin, bringing images of heady smoke caressing her like the hands of a lover. “Passion, pleasure…..fiery warmth instead of the soft glow of the Light,” Scourge finished, not missing the flush that came over her light tanned skin, “Don’t repress those feelings Roslynd, acknowledge them, learn to control the Darkness when you feel that connection, gather it up, then either harness it for use or meditate to banish it. Not all Sith are corrupt with the Dark side…….there are several that embrace Light side concepts and are quite honorable. Just as with the Light side, it’s how the Force is used that determines corruption and I’ve seen Jedi use the Light side of the force for dark purposes over my vast existence. So who is better, an honorable Sith who utilizes Dark force as his weapon but shows compassion for his enemy, or an obedient, emotionless Jedi steeped in the Light who does the very same?” “What about the things I did? The corruption was there…..inside me.” “And it left you with the Emperor which is why your eyes returned to their natural color. As for what he made you do, you have to face it. Open your mind and let yourself remember, relive all of it, accept it,” Scourge told her, “Then find the strength to live with it and move on. No more hiding under heavy robes barely taking care of yourself, brooding in the cockpit, and crying yourself to sleep only to wake in anguish from your memories. Only then will you fully be able to become that strong fearless young woman once again……then we fight.” In her mind, she knew Lord Scourge was right about her being too weak to fight and she grudgingly accepted that it was indeed time to face the music head on. Only by letting herself remember everything could she ever hope to work past it and maybe someday her soul would heal. Knowing what she had to do, Ros stood, bowed to the former Wrath, then left the cockpit, accepting a hug from her friend who’d been listening in the doorway before going to her quarters to meditate until she had all her memories back. Then she’d deal with them one by one until she found peace and felt whole again. “Now she begins the real healing process,” Scourge mused, knowing who’d entered without looking. “It’s a start,” Kira admitted, having heard the entire conversation, “But I still think she needs to go home for a few days…..or at least spend some time with her twin. If anyone can snap her out of this, it’s her family.” “Let’s worry about stopping the Emperor’s plans for Belsavis,” Scourge replied, “Then we can go from there.” Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Striges Posted February 13, 2015 Share Posted February 13, 2015 @Alaurin: JC spoilers: One of the maddening things about the JC story is the huge episode at the end of Act 2. You don’t really play it out, and you don’t get to play recovery either. Ros’ pain in your version is palpable. In that context, Scourge’s practical approach feels very harsh though very much in character. His recommendation for managing the Dark Side intrigued me. Almost as though the Dark Side was a bad habit, one that Ros broke. But it wasn’t gone completely and never would be. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lunafox Posted February 13, 2015 Share Posted February 13, 2015 @Alaurin Thank you so much for the warm welcome I really enjoyed Broken. I like how you explored the 'time of darkness' that your JK experienced, and how it was manifesting for her. As Striges said, it's something that wasn't explored well enough with the class story, but I suspect that was because of budget and what not. I also really enjoyed your Scourge, you nailed his voice. I loved it! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Striges Posted February 13, 2015 Share Posted February 13, 2015 Friday the 13th! Week of February 13, 2015 Cupid’s Arrow: According to legend, any heart pierced by Cupid’s golden-tipped arrow--human or deity alike--filled with uncontrollable, all-consuming desire. Classic love at first sight. But Cupid’s quiver also contained lead-tipped arrows with the opposite effect: provoking disdain and aversion. Has either arrow ever wounded your character? Or perhaps one of their close associates? An object of affection? Cupid’s influence covers the gamut of passions--from the sensual to unrequited all the way to bitter animosity. Tell a story where your character experiences irrational love or irrational hate. Or both. And, as ever, Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489974post=2 and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489991post=3 (yes, we’re up to two full posts!). Many thanks to Alaurin for maintaining these lists. This week's featured NotLP: Navigation - Our characters often find themselves navigating toward a goal by means of maps, tracking signals, advisors, or instinct. Write about some guidance that pointed the way. Got an idea for a prompt? Send me a pm! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Feldraeth Posted February 13, 2015 Share Posted February 13, 2015 (edited) Comment @Bultitudes_Loke: Yes, it is propaganda, but everything is propaganda of one form of another. However, I was being flippant with the whole certain point of view thing, but in my defence, it was early in the morning. @Alaurin: contains JK spoilers Ouch, Ros’ trauma is palpable in this piece. Also, you’ve somehow made Sargent 'let's kill my entire squad for no good reason' Rusk likeable. Finally, Scourge is actually helping someone, even if it furthers is own aims. I’ll admit that I’m in the minority who questions why their Jedi would let him come along but that could just be because I’m immune to the melted butter that is his voice. However, I have to disagree with Striges. If the JK’s time as the Emperor’’s thrall was shown, it would lessen the effect. By not knowing exactly what happened, our minds are left to imagine the worst we can think of, which is far more terrifying than anything they could show us on a Teen rating. As we can clearly see with your pieces. Now, onto something a bit happier. I wrote this piece a while ago but it sort of fits the theme. Prompt: Health, Achilles Heel, Cupid’s Arrow Title: Welcome to Quesh Characters: Roan, Kid Sith, Lieutenant Pierce, Black Ops Bada55 Spoilers, intro to Quesh, Some Act II spoilers Warning: Strong Language and mild peril Word Count: 1,834 Quesh, some Hutt planet our target jettisoned to. Read the briefing as we flew to the orbital station. Not much to like, poison atmosphere, clammy swamps, full of aliens, place was a real ****hole. Orbital spacedock weren’t much better. It was imp design but had filthy aliens swarming its deck. Cartel allies or some such. Heh, alien ‘allies’: put’em in through the grinder instead of our boys. I can handle that. Got stopped by some doc bureaucrat by the shuttle. He’d injected us with something to counteract the venom in the air. Didn’t catch why, just that it was important. Doesn’t make much sense to me, but I’m no egghead. The kid had fussed about it up there, trying to insist on just using the breather in his helmet. It’s doable, done it a couple of times myself, but it ain’t nice. Breathers pull on my beard, and tank oxygen’s too dry. Tires you out fast if you’re not used to it. Kid won’t have any problems with whiskers, not for a couple of years anyway, but I’ve seen his fighting style. He’d exhaust himself after five minutes with tank air. I told him as much, and he finally gave in. Doc pr1cked’im, and we were off. Body tingled after a minute in the shuttle: guess the shot was doing whatever it did. Reckon the kid felt the same. At least he seemed quieter. He hadn’t spoken all the way down. Suited me just fine. I’m not much for conversation, not before a fight. Still, a sulking Sith made for trouble in the field. I’d just have to watch our backs more, s’all. After ten minutes of stewing in my seat, the pilot told us we’d land in under five. He wasn’t wrong: did it in three. The shuttle hatch hissed open and a stench worse than the Hutt’s arse punched me in the face. Drinking it in, I strode onto this dump of a planet: smelt worse. Hell, done worse when I gutted that Cathar and staked’im out for a week. Planet was orange, orange ground, orange grass and orange stains on the Hutt-style buildings. At least the troop transports were not some Cartel crap and ours. Lazy slugs used repulsors for everything, even troop transports. Sure, it’s smoother, but you don’t want smooth going into battle. Smooth sends you to sleep. The kid joined me out the shuttle, wiping his nose on his robe sleeve. It was still running, but nothing he couldn’t handle. “Ugh, I hate this planet already,” he wheezed, crinkling his beak of a nose. Then he started coughing. Yeah, it smells, get over it. I swaggered over to the lift, cheap Hutt style without railings or warning strips around the base. Some dumb fµck could fall down that. “The empire thirsts for Quesh. What say we quench that thirst?” I announced, loud enough for the kid to hear. I know the brief, get in and kill the pr1ck but maybe we can do a bit for the boys. Sooner we beat the Pubs, sooner we can all get off planet. The kid seemed a bit wet but he cared about helping the boys. Speaking of which, the kid hadn’t followed. Glancing back, I saw him doubled over, clutching a shuttle turret for support. I was back by him in under a second. “You all right, Milord?” I asked. Not gonna get stabbed over Sith pride, boys back in Black ops wouldn’t let me live it down. He didn’t answer, couldn’t the way his tongue swelled up. Looked up though, not a good sight. Face was puffy, eyes mostly swollen and he was turning blue. Not a doc, but sure that’s bad. Something in the air or in that injection was fµcking him up. Looked like an allergic reaction bad enough to kill him. I moved, ramming an adrenal into his leg muscle in one fluid motion. His gasp made it past his tongue. My adrenals contain a load of stims, but they’re all based off adrenaline. If this were an allergic reaction to Quesh, it’d buy him more time. Docs won’t like me much for whatever else is in there, but they’d like a dead Sith in their med bay a lot less. I scooped up my coughing lord and double-timed it to the lift. He wasn’t light: weighed ‘bout the same as my gear and pack. Kind of glad I joined him down here for this: couldn’t see that stiff-neck pencil pusher Quinn hauling our Lord to safety. Not a problem for me, though. The Lift had left and was halfway down. Not a problem. I carried on and leapt down the hole. Too far for a normal jump, but I’m Black Ops. Hoisting the kid up on my shoulder, I pulled out the mag-grapple from my belt. It was wired up to the harness under my breastplate, so I wasn’t going to wrench my hip like an old woman. Smacking it into one of the walls, I loosely grabbed the unspooling cord. My gloves have wear-resistant pads on the palms so they can handle friction. Didn’t stop heat though. The lift hit the bottom. We didn’t. Shock stabbed my arm as I grabbed the cord at the last second. The harness clamped up, making sure it didn’t tear my arm off. Instead, all that force went sideways, gravity trying to make me her bit©h. I let it, instead cutting the cord as we swung out into the walkway. Momentum wanted to throw me around like a ragdoll, but I had other plans. I kicked against the ground as soon as I touched it, turning in the air. Punching the orange floor, I finished my spinning flip, ready to run. I landed and leapt to it. Spotted a med centre on the far side of the transports. Getting dragged to one of those boxy metal prefabs had saved my life more than once. Nurse droid outside saw me coming, and opened the hatch. A real doc was inside, fixing a prosthetic to some hapless grunt. She saw me coming and made the man stand. Private Legless glowered at us. Triage’s a bit©h, aint it. Then he noticed my charge and dropped the attitude. I laid my lord on the table and saw his Chiss impression. Colour wasn’t far off but he didn’t get the eyes right: puffed up to squints, though they were bloodshot enough to be red. Doc swarmed me, asking what happened. “Had our shots and shuttled down. He reacted like that as soon as we got out,” I grunted. The doc turned and flicked a switch by the bed. The door sealed behind me and a heavy-duty extractor fan started whirring. Green light flashed over me, gamma irradiation to sterilise the area. I’ve seen this before and it ain’t good. Docs use it when they’re about to do invasive surgery. Doc didn’t cut him up, just pulled two cords down from a machine and jammed them into his leg. Red ran up one and a sickly green-yellow fluid ran down the other: Synthplasma. The machine beeped and something flashed on its screen. Doc leant back to read it, showing her lithe body. Would’ve paid more attention to that, but the kid took priority. Might get to know her later, if she’s up for it, but that’s for later. “Anaphylaxis as a result of inoculation-venom by-product build-up,” the doc determined, “Not all uncommon.” I didn’t get a word of it, but I didn’t have to. “You’ll feel better in a minute, My lord. I’m setting you up on dialysis,” she told’im and the tension of an op gone bad slipped off my shoulders. He nodded weakly, eyes nearly clamped up. After a minute, his chiss impression started to fade back to the normal pasty white. “You get this a lot?” “All too often: It’s common among Alderaanians and anyone stationed there for any length of time.” Did my homework when Hurdenn got Baras’ call. Kid spent some time on Alderaan on a secret mission that took him deep into Republic territory. Good thing Jaesa’s with Vette on Nar Shaddaa. Wouldn’t want both our Sith down cause of some alien muck in the air. “He gonna get better?” “Of course, Lieutenant. The shock will fade as I drain the by-product from his system. I’d advise bed-rest with dialysis every night while he’s planetside, but so long as he wears a rebreather and doesn’t do anything too strenuous, he should be fine.” She answered brisk and direct, but I caught a bit of a Ziost drawl under the Kaas sneer. Always nice to see someone else out of the cold but I wouldn’t call Quesh an improvement. Give me glaciers and blizzards over alien ‘allies’ any day. “Good to know, Doc,” I weighed up my options and went for it, “Listen, when you get off, would you like to go for a drink?” Worst case, she kicks me out and still treats the kid. I can live with that. She glanced over to me, a coy smile working that pert mouth. “Hmmn, big burly Zio rushes in here, saving a child Sith and hasn’t leered at my arse yet. What’s the catch?” she asked directly, her Kaas affectation gone. I like direct. “You saved my CO and I’d like to repay you for that.” She eyed me over and liked what she saw. So did I. Breasts as pert as her lips, and an arse to match, with a waist I could put my hands around. I prefer more meat on my women, but that’s not a problem. Just had to be more careful with her, s’all. Course, if she wants it hard, I can handle that. “Or we could skip the formalities and go straight to my quarters,” she volunteered, those dark eyes smouldering as she ran a hand down my breastplate. Think I like her already. “Sounds like a plan,” I smiled wolfishly. Ziost has a lot of cold nights and we know how to deal with that. There’s a reason it’s the top Imperial honeymoon destination. Her wide smile crossed that silky skin, a promise for later. Not taking her eyes off me, she thumbed a button on the table. It whined as the repulsors kicked in. A bubble formed around us, keeping where we moved mostly sterile. I glanced back and saw Private Legless, clutching his unfitted prosthetic forlornly. His mouth was agape, eyes wide. He must’ve been hitting on the good Doc while she’d been doing his leg. I winked at him. His face flickered into a mask of impotent rage. Heh Guiding the Kid’s bed over to the mess on the far side of the base, we made plans for the night. Good thing he wasn’t paying attention to us. Wouldn’t want to have to explain it to ‘im. I’ll let Captain Protocol handle that. That reminds me, I’d better get him to down ‘ere to babysit. The Doc’s busy tonight. Edited February 13, 2015 by Feldraeth Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Magdalane Posted February 14, 2015 Share Posted February 14, 2015 (edited) I just can't pass this one up, and of course you know who it is.... Prompt: Cupid's Arrow Miriah and Corso Peace. Miriah mused that she’d never quite understood that one simple word before now, but as she gazed out the full length window at the lush, green pastures of their homestead on Dantooine, peace was the word that came to her mind. After years of being a smuggler, she didn’t remember ever being at peace before. Maybe, she thought, this is what it’s all about. What we all chase. Peace. A smile curved her lips as her husband came into view. Corso was working on repairing a fence separating the livestock from the yard, shirtless and sweating in the warm sun. Lust, now that was a word she fully understood. She had her share of that with the handsome Mantellian, and just watching him now brought on the familiar zing. They’d arrived a day ago, and this was the first time he’d been outside. Her gaze grew dreamy as she thought about the last month, saying their vows and then the time they’d spent, finishing their work on Corellia and finding this place. I thought the wanting was all there was to it, for so long, she reasoned. Then I realized I was wrong. She rested her forehead on the pristine glass. So wrong. He must have seen her movement out of the corner of his eye, or just her presence had alerted him to look up, and he saw she was there at the window. He brushed the dredlocks out of his face, and waved. She blushed and waved back, suppressing a giggle. Yeah, she thought, lust. But so much more, too. She wondered when it had changed, when the idea of just having fun had morphed into never wanting to be without him. Yes, the sight of him started a cascade of heat that tumbled through her, making her sigh, but it also tugged on her heart. Now, she knew the meaning of that other word she’d avoided for so very long. She wandered out onto the open deck and into one of the padded chaises there, soaking up the sun. I never knew it could be like this, had no idea what promise this held, she pondered. She looked over to where the object of her thoughts had finished his work and was making his way toward her. He’s it, the only one I ever want, she thought. Love. Magdalane always says it’s the strongest magic of all. She’s right, she thought, as she grinned and stood. Edited February 14, 2015 by Magdalane Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mirdthestrill Posted February 15, 2015 Share Posted February 15, 2015 Gah! I totally meant to post this a week and a half ago, but complications. Lost flash drives, sickness, and the busiest week I've had in a long time seem to be conspiring against me. Have some comments. @Striges- Yeah, Erius tends to underestimate Karanni. I think he's put her down for so long that he's started to believe it himself. @Bright- Nice. I like Niselle, a nice change of pace from the dark, gravity-filled atmosphere I typically associate with inquisitors. @Josephinec- Welcome to the thread! I love, love, love awkward flirting (although it still sounds better than when I try to do it), and riding around in your warrior's head makes it a lot more relatable. Nice job, and I like Xenli already @Frauzet- Nice save on Thorn's part. @AKHadeed- I love this. Angie's self-awareness about her drunken state, her's and Zeedor's honesty, the subsistence of the conversation @Feldraeth- I like Zul's knowledge of Imperial bounty hunting laws. I guess they would have a ton of legislation on it. I liked the ambiguous ending, hope she's ok. @Hadeedak- Awww! Nice job. Is the akk dog going to become a permanent fixture? @Lunafox- Welcome to the thread! I've seen you around the forums and know you're been posting in your own thread, but I'm glad to see you here! I like this piece. It has a nice origin for Harkun's dislike of the Inquisitor, as well as his use (and overuse) of their nickname. How embarrassing for her! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
alaurin Posted February 15, 2015 Share Posted February 15, 2015 I still haven't gotten to the Index yet, but hopefully I'll be able to remedy that this afternoon or tomorrow sometime. I've been working on some romantic drabbles for Valentine's Day. Don't worry, I'm not going to flood this thread with them (especially because at least one would have to be edited a bit for content), but if anyone is interested in reading them, here's a link to my Tumblr post that has the the list/links to the stories I've finished. I did manage to get caught up on my reading and have a long slew of commentary.....deep breath and here goes! Comments/Replies: @Feldreath: Glad to see my villains came across as I’d intended. Neither are good people and I’m not even sure who I hate more. Writing people like that isn’t easy for me, but it was interesting. As for my JK piece, you’re the 2nd person that has said that about Rusk! Ros and her crew definitely have their internal scars from that mission and while that stuff is harder for me to write, I do look forward to exploring it. Oh how I wish I could be immune to seductive voices……but I’m weak so I always get all fluttery whenever I hear Lord Scourge…..and Jorgan……and the male IA…….and the male SW……and I’d better stop before I swoon. *sigh* RE: An Imperial Welcome 2- I can’t blame Kaina’zul’anon for being leery of customs and that is definitely a nail biter for an ending! RE: Guess Who’s Back- Ooooo, Zash put into a 4 year old…..as a parent, I’m a little scared of the potential tantrums coming from that tot! At least she’ll grow up though…..but yikes, she’s going to be the teenage girl from hell! RE: Obtaining the Body- Interesting…..loved when he said she might be a little different when she was returned. RE: Imperial Welcome 3- Very nice use of biology and chemistry in that piece and a real nailbiter all the way through. I’m very anxious for Zul and Mako now!! RE: Imperial Welcome Conclusion- Oh, I was glad to see Mako rescued, but the end had me worried still until I read the next part. RE: A Certain Point of View- I’m glad Mako’s message got through and that slaver will be dealt with. It was also nice to see Roan see the real Vette at the end…..hopefully he’ll get better knowledge about Twi’leks than the encyclopedia he’d read on the shuttle. RE: The Holocall- I really liked the alternate perspectives on each end of that call. I have to echo Striges’ sentimate…..despite the anger so strongly apparent, I also felt so much sadness that a mother and child were so bent on their own viewpoint that they couldn’t give the preverbal inch. It’s sad because the mother/child bond is so special and I hate to see it so broken. RE: Welcome to Quesh- Urgh, I hate that planet. Liked seeing Pierce’s POV and it’s always interesting to see our heroic characters having real weaknesses that the reader can relate to……like an allergic reaction. Even powerful Force users aren’t immune…..nicely done! @Kitar: Yes, Syarra’s saber is very pretty now thanks to a special gift! RE: Colors piece- You already know my thoughts, but yes, Jax is the curious type and I loved Ka’van startling him when he ignited his saber. As I have played with Alaurin, dear Captain Jaxzin Roark has never stepped foot into a warzone, so in my mind he has never attended a Huttball match in person. I have not given up trying to coax her into one though…Since I nearly piss my pants whenever we see the opposing faction, I don’t think that’s ever going to happen…. @Charmedseed: Glad you enjoyed Jax and Ka’van’s first meeting as well as Syarra’s shopping excursion and color preference. As for Senator Bradley……you’ll just have to see when I get to that part in my guys’ little saga which I’ve moved to their own thread. @Hadeedak: Oooo, Zeedor getting philosophical….loved that piece, especially this part “Kid, most days I’m worried about living long enough to see my next paycheck or shot of whiskey.” She looked over at me. “I don’t really have time to think about the long-term stuff.” “A most practical philosophy, Ms. Irons.”So telling. RE: Animal Kingdom- Awwwww, that gave me the warm fuzzies! Zeedor needs a puppy, but just picturing Angie’s reaction to their new little charge had me laughing. Kinda reminded me of the time I brought home a puppy someone had dropped off at my boyfriend’s house. My Mom was hooked and Dad said, “No Way!” My parents had that dog for 12 years and my Dad was devastated the day she died. My BH, Kat also took in a little Akk pup she rescued on Hutta…..and still has her. Cocoa is a good doggie who occasionally has relations with Gault’s favorite leatheris boots….. @Alaurin: In regards to your double-header; you can write villains! Not the fun, "would it be so bad to let them win?" kind, but the slimy, sleazeball, disgusting kind, who you just want to see the good guy beat the snot out of! Awesome.Thanks! I really have a hard time writing bad/evil/brutal people so I’m glad it came across alright. I’m happy that I was able to invoke that ‘wanting to beat the snot of’ sentiment. @Striges: @Alaurin: Both of these baddies are true villains. Of course that’s the point. We wouldn’t like seeing them go down if they weren’t so deliciously evil to begin with.Thanks! Glad they came across alright since writing bad people isn’t easy for me, but it can’t all be happy fluffy fluff time. I think I’m going to enjoy seeing the guys deal with the good Senator and Bella dealt with Jackson rather violently. I’m glad you were able to read the Ros piece! I know earlier on when I’d posted about her struggles with the JK Act 2 finale, you hadn’t gotten that far in the game yet. That part of the JK story is indeed very sparse, but in some ways I guess that’s a good thing because we can come up with our own scenarios of what really happened. As for my interpretation of Dark side force, that’s how I always took it……like a temptation that would be hard to avoid after experiencing it once and I’d like to think after that much exposure, there would be lingering traces. Hopefully it makes sense because I’ve always struggled with those concepts which is why I write for so many non-force users. @Bright: Glad you liked Bradley’s persona…..yes, he’s very neat and precise, but he’s got a vicious streak to him. Yeah, after all this time, I decided it was time to reveal who Jackson really was. RE: (Un)Invited Guests- *sigh* I’d forgotten just how much I love Nalenne and Niselle. Loved the banter with Khem. RE: Pick-Up Lines- That was a fun read and I liked the format of him giving a lecture on getting close to someone, then showing how it was used in the field for him. I really loved that piece and how it showed what was really behind those simple flirts/lines. @Bright and Sillymonkey- Oooooo, I loved that story. My favorite agents playing nice together (or not so nice in Fenn’rys’ case). That collaboration worked very well and set up the start of the in game Agent story nicely! It would be interesting to see those two run into each other in the future……maybe if/when Wynston finds out what that op was really about. I also liked the perception of Keeper and how he made it clear that Fenn’rys had her own weakness as far as emotions were concerned. @Mirdthestrill: Yep….under the charming persona Senator Bradley shows the public, he’s a really cold, cruel, and twisted man. Then him…..I think a lot of people hated Jackson before I posted that piece. RE: Fall From Grace- Oooo, I actually felt bad for Karanni at the end there! They’d better hope Baras doesn’t find out. @frauzet: Glad you liked my villains! I really wish I’d had the time to finish those pieces when the prompt was current. RE: Alderaanian Red- I had the biggest grin on my face just picturing the interaction between Thorns and the Chiss…..really smooth! @AKHadeed: Glad you enjoyed my villains. Bradley will be seen again and hopefully you’ll get a better understanding of what motivates him. Unfortunately for Cipher Five aka Jackson, he underestimated Bella in the end. RE: Angharad is Drunk- Oooooo drunken Angie is really fun to read! I giggled several times while reading that piece and I love how Zeedor handled it. RE: Defending your honor as not a ‘cheeterface’ story- Oh, watching an old’ could’ve been’…..I could feel her regrets and hesitation, nicely done. Then GAH! I hate those damn stealthys!!!! I rarely PvP and still can’t believe Kitar talked me into rolling my guys on her PvP server, but that noise of a stealthier still makes me twitch……as does the sound of a Rogue’s backstab. I was a resto Druid in WOW and trees = Rogue pincushions. What’s really funny about that is my hubby played a Rogue and used me frequently as bait……*sigh* @josephinec: WELCOME!!!!! Oh, I felt so embarrassed for Xenli and Vette’s last line…..I could just picture her shaking her head in pity as she guided her master away from putting her foot in any further. @Lunafox: WELCOME!!!! What an interesting start for your SI Feravai. HAHAHA…..I don’t think I’ll ever be able to think of Overseer Harkun the same way again! I’m glad you enjoyed Broken. I’ve written a few pieces for Ros involving that timeframe of the JK Act 2 finale since the in game stuff leaves the story so open for interpretation. These pieces have been hard for me to write because I’m so much better with the warm, fuzzy bits. It’s been an interesting challenge for me and there will be more of Ros in the near future. @CastonFolarus: Welcome Back! It’s been so many years since I’ve seen Footloose….*sigh* I had a crush on Kevin Bacon. And yay for JC/Nadia fic! I really liked how you got inside Nadia and showed us so much about her……the uncertainty and confusion over her Master’s behavior, her wonder at her Force abilities, then the curiosity and determination to find out what Gharas was up to. I had the biggest smile on my face at the end. Hope to see more of them! @Magdalane: Welcome back!! D’awwwwww, I love Miriah and Corso so much! I had to read it over a few times to get my fill and I have to agree with her……that would definitely be something nice to see out in the field and to see that it had become so much more than just simple lust gave me the warm fuzzies something fierce! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
frauzet Posted February 15, 2015 Share Posted February 15, 2015 @Feldraeth: The Holocall: A severe case of mother and daugther not getting along well. To me it sounds like Maga has a plan. She seems to think it's an important one for all she's putting her daugther knowingly through. Welcome to Quesh: I like the idea of the anaphylactic shock. There are quiete a number of shots our chars take ingame without giving it a second thought. I know why my raid chars usually have biochemistry. @alaurin: That's some good advice from Scourge. And I think I am with Feldraeth in that they wouldn't have been able to show us something remotely as horrible as we were able to imagine. @Magdalane: I like how you come from understanding peace to love. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Striges Posted February 17, 2015 Share Posted February 17, 2015 2x XP weekend over now... @Feldraeth: Lieutenant “The Mind Shifts Gears Rapidly” Pierce. I did wonder how the rest of the Warrior crew would react to Kid Sith. I think you got Pierce down pretty well. Granted, most everyone views events through a fairly selfish lens. Pierce never bothered to hide it. I found his thoughts through the story to be very Pierce. @Magdalane: Miriah and Corso. I liked that Miriah couldn’t pinpoint the time when fun became love. It just did. And that she’s so happy with that evolution. @Alaurin: Yes, thanks to the 12x XP thing I finally managed to get one of everything through the main story and the stragglers to 55. I’m still a little torn about that part of the JK story though. It seems like such a pivotal event that I want to explore it more in-game. At the same time, I get not wanting to elaborate much. Every player can view it differently, and that’s fine too. In that way it puts me in mind of the Jaxo event in the Trooper story. Limiting your character’s reaction to one of three on the dialogue wheel just isn’t enough. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mirdthestrill Posted February 18, 2015 Share Posted February 18, 2015 And here are some more comments, with a story, this time! Comments: @AKHadeed- Roy is back! The guy gives me chills, but less in the creeped-out way as in the "this guy is spooky, something exciting is about to happen" way. @CastonFolarus- Aww! Nadia is one of the harder love interest companions to find the right fit for, but you look to be doing pretty well. I like the idea of a consular doing air guitar. @Felraeth- RE: An Imperial Welcome- I found both stories a little confusing, but once I figured out what was going on, I liked them. Your characters' thought processes feel very natural. RE: The jedi/smuggler one- How sad. I've seen this too often in real life, where neither party is willing to admit they're partially in the wrong, and so continue to hurt each other over and over again, even though neither of them wants to. Hope things work out for them. @Bright- Cunning little man. I probably would have fallen for every single one of those situations, too. Very interesting, and I don't get to see agent stuff that often, since I don't have one. Gonna play it safe with the second crossover piece, though. @Alaurin- Poor Ros! She's been through a lot, and I doubt anyone would deal with it very well. Scourge's urgings are necessary, but painful all the same. @Magdalane- Welcome (back)! This is a very sweet little piece. Nice to see a bit of the "happily ever after" So, originally, I intended to sort of tease out the information in this story slowly, over the course of many, many posts. But I realized that it's not a subject that would naturally come up in conversation, nor do I have the benefit of long-standing internal dialogue like I do for Kiarn's secrets. Plus, I just kind of wanted to write it. Title: Beneath the Surface Prompt: Parenthood Characters: Eyrie Lancaster (Jedi Knight), Jedi Masters Satele Shan, Orgus Din, and Bela Kiwiks Length: 1,100 words Spoilers: Vague references to JK Tython. Index between Training Days and The Road to Coruscant “Are you sure?” Bela Kiwiiks said, leaning forward in her seat in the Jedi Council chamber. “You haven’t taken a padawan since the Sacking.” “Of course I’m sure,” replied Orgus Din. “I brought it up, didn’t I? Or did you think Kira would scare me off padawans for good?” Master Kiwiks lips pursed as though she wasn’t sure how best to take his joke, but apparently decided on an eye roll and a small smile. Orgus smiled privately. Despite her calm, staid attitude, the Togruta understood him better than anyone else on the council. Perhaps anyone else in the galaxy. “Jokes aside, Orgus, what drove you to do this now?” Satele Shan’s voice was soft and steady as usual, but she looked tired. “Partially necessity. The order needs new knights, even I can see that. And lately I keep feeling drawn to the student practice areas. I think the Force is telling me it’s time to take on a new student.” “If you’re sure,” the grand master said. “Do you want one of the instructors to select one for you?” “Actually, I already picked one out.” “Who?” said Bela. Orgus sighed. This would be the hard part. “Well, I didn’t get her name. But she’s one of the padawans who just arrived from Dantooine. She was helping me repel the Flesh Raider attacks. A short Miraluka with grey hair. Practices Jar Kai.” “Eyrie Lancaster?” “That sounds like it could be right.” Bela looked thoughtful. “She is long overdue for a master. And it might be a good way for you to ease back into training padawans; you won’t have to do much more than prepare her for the trials.” Satele fixed him with an intense look. “What about Padawan Lancaster attracts your attention, Orgus?” “The Force is strong in her. Stronger than I’ve seen in a long time. And she seems hardworking and dedicated to the ideals of the Order.” “Both are true. However, before you agree to take her on, you must know that there is a complication.” “What?” Satele’s voice dropped even further. “What I am about to say is not to leave this room.” “Do you want me to leave?” Master Kiwiiks said, moving to stand up. “No, Bela, you already know.” Orgus ran his fingers through his short grey hair. “I understand, Master.” Sighing, Satele Shan leaned back in her seat. “As you know, we have students come to us at all ages, from young teens like Kira to those that arrive as infants. Eyrie was born here.” “She has a Jedi parent, then?” It wasn’t really that surprising. Miraluka could all use the Force to some degree, compensating for their missing eyes. Though the species had been rare since the Jedi civil war, the few remaining ones often joined the Order. “Her mother, Nyra, was apprenticed to Master Koras. When she was in her late teens, they were sent to extract hostages from an Imperial occupation. It went as planned, with the exception of a lone Sith apprentice who approached them as they were leaving, offering to defect. Koras accepted and he returned to the Academy with them to begin retraining as a Jedi.” Orgus nodded. He could guess where this was going. “The story might have ended there, except that the other apprentice, Duran Lancaster, was another Miralukan. I don’t think either of them had met a member of their species their own age before.” “So they fell in love,” said Master Kiwiiks. “Not at first, no, but after several years they did. It’s partially our fault: we should have noticed their growing affection and separated them long before we did. But just before the Council decided to do anything about it, Nyra revealed that she was pregnant.” “With Eyrie, I’m assuming?” “Yes. The Council voted not to separate the family, on the condition that Duran and Nyra continued their training and that the child would be raised in the Temple and trained as a Jedi when the time came.” “But there must have been some sort of problem,” said Orgus. Satele wouldn’t have told him all this if it didn’t have some relevance to his taking Eyrie on. “Around that time, Duran started… backsliding. Flashes of anger, grudges against other students, that sort of thing.” “Understandable. He was a Sith, after all.” “I suppose so. Nyra was a bigger problem. She started to take on some of Duran’s darker habits as well. And once Eyrie was born, she became fiercely protective of her, lashing out at anyone who even hinted at doubt in her ability to raise a child. We decided again to separate them from each other and the baby, allow them exclusive time with their respective masters. “They didn’t take the news well, with Duran storming out and Nyra threatening the Jedi who told her. We feared they would try to run away that night, but the next morning they were both still there. We had just breathed a sigh of relief when Nyra and another student got into a fight.” “What about?” “We never found out, exactly. All we know is that it escalated to Nyra and Duran pulling their lightsabers and cutting the other student down where he stood. From there, they tried to break into the nursery, but failed. Instead, they disappeared into the woods, only to steal a shuttle several days later and flee. We haven’t heard any word of them since they left Republic space.” “Poor girl,” murmured Bela. “Does she know about any of this?” “Yes. It wasn’t our intention to tell her, but someone made the mistake of mentioning it in her presence. You may be assured that your potential padawan has sharp ears and an inquiring mind, Orgus.” A smile twitched at his lips, despite the gravity of the story. “Wonderful.” The grand master returned his look of amusement, then grew serious again. “Knowing what you do about her history, do you still wish to take her on as a padawan?” He didn’t hesitate. “Of course! Why would this change anything? And even if it did, the Force is leading me to this, I’m certain.” “I anticipated that would be your answer, but I wanted to make certain. I’ll let her know and schedule an apprenticeship ceremony.” “Thank you.” He checked the chrono on the wall. “Is there anything else you needed, Master Shan?” “No, you may go.” “Thank you. Bela, would you like to get some dinner?” “That sounds wonderful, Orgus.” Standing up, the Togruta followed him out of the chamber. Note: I love Orgus Din, and feel a little sad that we don't get to see more of him in-game. Oh well, that's what fanfiction is for! 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Striges Posted February 19, 2015 Share Posted February 19, 2015 @Mirdthestrill: I agree, I’d love to have more interaction with Orgus in-game. Reading your story, I got the impression that the rest of the Jedi were almost avoiding Eyrie because of her parent’s conduct, baggage no one should carry. I like the idea that the Force led Orgus--who hadn’t taken a padawan in years--to the student who waited the longest for a teacher. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lunafox Posted February 20, 2015 Share Posted February 20, 2015 @Mirdthestrill Thanks so much for the warm welcome. I have to admit there is a sick part of me that is somewhat amused by Harkun referring to Feravai as 'slave.' I also wanted to tell you I enjoyed Eyrie's story. I've always been one for the forbidden love aspect in a story, and it would be fascinating to see how it affects Eyrie in the long run. I love the exchanges between Bela and Orgus especially and Orgus' sense of humour. I could see them in my mind's eye and hear them...it was like have a cut screen in my head. Good stuff! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Striges Posted February 20, 2015 Share Posted February 20, 2015 A prompt for not-the-last-week of February: Week of February 20, 2015 Preparation: How does your character approach a competition, a blind date, or a delicate mission? Are they a meticulous planner? The one who has contingencies for the contingencies? Rehearsing their lines or moves until they can do them asleep? Or are they more of a “never tell me the odds” sort, walking in with an outline--if that--and winging it? Whether gathering intel and supplies or getting into the proper mental state, show your character getting ready. And, as ever, Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489974post=2 and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489991post=3 (we’re up to two full posts!). Many thanks to Alaurin for maintaining the prompt archive and story index here. This week's featured NotLP: Collections - This wide galaxy is a great place for hoarders...or definitely not hoarders, I don't know what you're talking about. Where would your character put all the random things you can accumulate, all the speeders, random pets, the copious crafting mats, countless outfits, armor sets, saber hilts.... or does your character only collect one thing in particular, a couple of things, or nothing at all? Prompt courtesy of Kitar. Got an idea for a prompt? Send me a pm! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
AKHadeed Posted February 21, 2015 Share Posted February 21, 2015 (edited) Quickly getting this duo up, since I've been meaning to for... a while. An embarassingly long while. I'm a champ. ANYWAY. This is for the enemies prompt. It features Zeedor and Viska. They are not friends. If they were modern archeologists, they'd write letters in response to each other's papers making passive aggressive comments about methods and interpretations. Since they're Sith, they just try to kill each other a lot, which I think we can all agree is much less awkward for the bystanders. Zeedor relaxed his mind, stretching his thoughts out as he slowed his breathing. Meditation was a delicate process, pulling his thoughts and breath inwards while he extended his being outwards, into the universe. Usually, he had some particular wrong to dwell on when he did so, something to focus the core of his rage and fear on. The mantra of the Sith code was another way to focus the wandering mind of an acolyte. Here, alone in his quarters, he needed no such crutches. He only needed time. The first presence was Angharad. He could easily recognize her form in the Force. She carried pain around, like light flashing from her old scars. Underneath the raw bright pain, there was very little showing, like a quickly flowing river hiding sharp rocks. A scaffolding of soft, unfocused pride barely supported the glows. Though he couldn't see his friend's body in the Force, he knew her shape. And he knew the wounds he'd healed. The lingering shadows of his presence made for an entrance into her mind, if he'd been inclined to spy on the bounty hunter's emotions, and see what lurked under the surface. He preferred not to. He checked on each old injury in turn, making sure that none were too blinding. Angharad's pain, her fear, and her rage had all given him strength when he needed it, probably more than she ever realized, but he wanted his bodyguard healthy. And besides. Angharad was his friend. Zeedor hadn't had many occasions to use such words. He barely remembered his parents. His associations as a slave were mostly furtive, temporary bonds based on mutual terror. When he'd been trained to serve in the house and carry meals, jealousy from the others had cut him further. His master had been kind in a vague way, but certainly not friendly, and Zeedor had never forgotten he was a possession, just like a fancy speeder. And then he'd been discovered, just as he was learning to shave the first fuzz off his face. The Academy had not lent itself to friendships. Zeedor had survived, mostly by luck and seeming too innocuous to kill. He hadn't been the strongest pupil, or the fiercest, or the best at forming alliances. But he had been too powerful to tackle without good reason, and not dangerous enough to offer a good reason. It had been a narrow bridge to walk on, and Zeedor had dreaded the day he failed to maintain that balance. Somehow, that never happened. Instead, his patience and precision had earned him the attention of a Lord who chose to train him. There hadn't been much in the way of bonding with the other Sith in the Archeological Service, of course, and everyone who wasn't a Sith was afraid to talk to him. He'd practiced making allies, the care and keeping of lackeys, and nurturing informers among pirates (and other salvagers), but he'd never really felt like any of them were people with whom he could share a meal without any agenda. The longest he'd ever really kept an associate was his use of Angharad Irons as a bodyguard. The convenience of his mercenary companion was hard to deny, and she had a rough, sour charm that he'd learned to tolerate. There was certainly a bond between the two of them, and as he meditated, he could see it as clearly as though it was a tangible thing. Perhaps it wasn't as strong as that between master and apprentice, and her utter lack of Force sensitivity didn't help. But he'd pulled her back from horrific injuries, and she'd thrown herself between the Sith and danger often enough. He admired her, in a way. Well. At any rate, he liked her. He'd grown to enjoy the constant grumbling and the way her voice got higher when she was feeling indignant. She was a reliable presence. Right now, she was moving around. He couldn't place her location, exactly, but he knew she was probably near the cockpit of the Wolf. There was a faint peachy hue of annoyance around the edges of her shape. Maybe she was trying to fix something? He stretched out his mind, growing beyond the shape of the ship. He could feel the hum of the town around them. It was a sleepy outer settlement on a sleepy rim planet, too small to really be part of the war. They'd been politely wary to him, with a cold reserve Zeedor'd been irritated with. Now that he was separate from them, he could feel the energy of the people around the spaceport. There was a certain desperation roiling around the air. He couldn't pick out anything specific, but there was worry and tension saturating the air. He drew that and the little fears against his chest. He preferred to use scraps like these. It was less work, and kept him strong enough. He gathered up the little pains, the little terrors, and wound them around himself until he could draw them in. Strength surged through his veins as touching the feelings awoke the same emotions in his chest. He could feel the energy crackling around him, like a shirt made of blades. His defense, his offense, his power. His assurance that no one would count him as trivial without being gravely mistaken. With this, he could shape the currents of everything around him, change the flow and push up the river if he wished. He could make his own destiny. What that destiny was, he had no idea, but he had the vague inklings of a warm chair, surrounded by artifacts mapping the course of worlds, and a pretty girl who thought he was the best thing in the universe. Enough power to be safe, not so much that great things would constantly be expected of him. Zeedor'd seen enough of people who got too powerful, and how they kept chasing after the next victory until they lost and went down in flames. He preferred stability and comfort. Only on a solid foundation could a great temple that withstood the ages be built. And speaking of that... Reticence of the locals not withstanding, he had a ruin to find and carefully catalogue. Putting each bit of history in its place, carefully charting every bend of the river and extracting every bit of knowledge until he understood how it had been and how the Force had moved through it... That was power. That was security. And it was worth doing. Nothing that was knowable should be lost. It should be documented, studied, and treasured. He believed that. And he could feel the ancient pull of a lost temple, teasing at the edges of his awareness with cold dread. To the... south. Zeedor stood up and stretched, working a crack from his back. She could see it all spray across the landscape, like blood arching from a wound. Dots were enough so that she could populate the barren desert with an arena, the raised steps with scores of people screaming, and the arching central column with banners and names of victors inscribed deep into the rock. Age and the wind had blasted away their victories, and the column was partially ruined, the rocks crumpled in on themselves. But Viska could see bloody glories, she could sense long-lingering traces of fear and rage and quivering excitement flickering against the ruins. It was a good place to meditate, quickened with dormant energy. She called, and the dark side came rushing in, clinging to her skin and burrowing against her. She let it in, reveling in the flush of power and the ancient pain. Viska was an idealist. She'd grown hearing stories of the Sith. She'd always known her red marks made her different from her adopted family. She knew they made her important, and that expectation was heavy around her. Tur Viska was not one to disappoint. She'd grown into her power with a flare, striking out at the common thugs who dared pillage her family's holdings. She'd always been aware she was special, that she was Sith, that the wreckage of the once-great Empire was her heritage. She hoarded every piece of history, every snippet of a fable she could find. They were hers. They were her bloodline and her blood right, shades of ancestors who billowed around her. The romance of the stories clung to her. She could imagine what it must have been like to be one of the ancients, surrounded by glory and power. She was an idealist, and she flung herself into the Empire's ideals. She was, perhaps, a bit reckless, but caution and weakness was not the way of the Sith. Power was. And she had power. She focused her energy around the column, seeing the ghosts of wounds on people centuries dead drip with pain. It racked at her, trying to disrupt her concentration as she honed her will into a dagger. The arena of the past grew more solid as she focused, until she could almost smell the coppery tang of fresh blood and the oaky growl of sunbaked leather. Hate reared up around her, so solid and fresh it made her mouth water. The slender woman pulled it into her dagger as it fought and snarled against her. Then she drove the dagger of her will into the center of the column. It shattered around her, spraying the arena with centuries of dust. The whole desert shuddered around Viska. It bucked like a localized earthquake, shaking stones loose from their resting place as she focused on ripping down to the base of the column. The energy of the arena fought her, protesting the disturbance. Rocks ground against each other as the bleachers came tumbling down. The Sith was as still as the cloudless sky, holding her energy against the screaming column. Eventually, the ground split and buckled, a deep crack opening in the earth. Viska could sense the dormant energy at the bottom of the fissure. She walked over, looking down into the darkness. She could make out the glint of light off of crumbling bones. She knew the identity of this man. He was the first failed competitor, buried where he'd fallen to mark the arena's birth. The first of many crushed ambitions and painful deaths... His bones were steeped in hatred and pain, as much as the burn of his failure. They were also worthless. The only things they contained was trivia. But the crystal in his lightsaber... Now that was worthy of a Sith, bathed in all this ancient agony and steeped over centuries. It would do. Either as a gift to Darth Venatus, another sign to the foolish old man that Viska was the strongest of his acolytes, or perhaps as an addition to her own saber. Her fingers flexed, and she was jerked back to the present. Her bones clicked where they shouldn't, and she could feel the weakness in her left hand. A Sith should treasure her enemies, should treasure ruining them. Their hatred fed her, as did her own hatreds. And Viska did her best. She was, after all, an idealist. But her enemies hardly felt worthy of her. The other acolytes were all fools, who barely respected the traditions of her people. They crawled and grovelled and allowed themselves weakness. Zeedor was the worst of all, a former slave who wore his weakness brazenly. He fussed over every rock, disrespecting the graves with his craven nattering and inane need to measure every object found at a site. His Force-blind pet tagged along behind him, dishonoring all of them with the implication a Sith could possibly need a bodyguard... Could possibly need anyone. A true Sith had only tools. The most bothersome thing, stinging Viska like a nettle, is that she'd not had much luck against her fellow acolytes. Of course, one had to be subtle. That rankled as well. The ancients had had that right. Put all the competitors in the arena and let the strongest survive. If she was ever to reach her potential, she had to make her strength obvious. And to do that, she needed to thin the competition. It was the Sith way, and Viska believed in the glories of her ancestors. More to come when I write something new or have something fabulously witty to say. Right now, my brain is Friday shaped mush. Edited February 21, 2015 by AKHadeed Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Feldraeth Posted February 22, 2015 Share Posted February 22, 2015 (edited) Comments EDIT: After rereading through this comment a few times, I think I've made it less offensive. I have kept the original text but everything in red should be ignored and everything in blue I've just added. I'm not planning on taking the comment down unless people ask me to, because I feel it should remain as a reminder to myself that I can be unclear and not realise I am deeply insulting someone. Also, it lets people see what was said. @Magdalene: Good use of atmosphere, good use of imagery with a half-naked Corso doing yard-work arousing desire in the protagonist and through her the audience, and you worked your signature into the piece. If you’re wondering why I’m avoiding mentioning the content, it’s a love story. Love stories are like Diet Coke, lots of people like it, there’s nothing wrong with it, but I can’t stand it the genre, though I admit I’m not the target audience. Like diet coke, sexy shirtless men advertise it. are prominently displayed .the emoticon doesn't show colour, but it should be in red @Mirdthestrill: Yay, more Orgus: one of the few mentor characters who actually acts like a mentor. That’s a great origin story, and it begs the question? Will Eyrie have to deal with her parental baggage growing up, and will she eventually come across their dark side reflections and stop them? @AKHadeed: More Zeedor, and his interesting and professional take on archaeology! I found the backstory interesting, especially his struggle with not being too noticeable. It’s rare to see a backstory someone who is middle of the road and not the ‘uber-leetest-ever’ prodigy kind. It also emphasises the solitude being a Sith must entail. It’s also somewhat amusing that Zeedor isn’t the SI, because he’s easily the best one to lead the Imperial Reclamation Service. I liked Viska’s drive if not the person, but I feel that she needs to reroll as a body type 4 merc, because she’s a tomb raider. Notes on ‘The Holocall’: I've reread through this piece and I think some ambiguous wording might’ve given people the wrong impression, so I've changed a line to reflect it. What used to be “I didn’t give consent. You signed the waiver for me while I was still as high as a skyhook.” is now “I didn’t give consent. You signed the waiver for me while I was still high from the painkillers.” The mistaken implication is that Maga took the child because Noctaire is a junkie, which isn’t the case. The implication I meant was that Maga stole Kailee within an hour of being born. It isn’t meant to be a mother-daughter disagreement, it’s a mother who stole a daughter’s child, refuses to let her daughter see her daughter, and gets away with it because of her position’ situation. Now that that's cleared up, here is the story. Prompt: Cross My Heart, Mea Culpa Title: Elevator Confessional Perspective: Kaina’zul’anon Word Count: 2,068 Spoilers: namedrops for side characters in a memorable DK quest. Ensign Shan, or Tholver when off duty, was a brown-haired kid in his late-teens, early-twenties. He had two older sisters, a younger brother, was currently single and played non-lethal Huttball in his off hours. I knew all this because Mako talked to him for every second we waited for a damn doctor. The ensign was with us to chaperone Mako through whatever medical aid she required, to provide her with all necessary security arrangements while on the station and escort us to our shuttle. It was part of their reparations for the rogue agent attempting to enslave her. I wasn’t even an afterthought, not that it bothered me. Imperials ignoring me suited me just fine after what I’d experienced. I don’t mean the slaver, though that certainly wasn’t pleasant. No, I meant their paywall of a medbay. I’m from the Ascendancy, where healthcare is provided to all taxpayers and their dependents as part of the Sabosen family service. Pay-to-live systems irk me, despite their predominance throughout the galaxy. At least the imperials don’t have an issue with selling me access to the equipment separate from the doctor or medication. Few doctors understand the minute differences between Chiss and baseline human physiology, let alone specialise in it. The Republic is far more ridiculous when it comes to bureaucracy, and bribing clueless doctors to go away and let me treat myself is often more trouble than its worth. We’d gone in with probable carbon monoxide poisoning, so all we needed was to confirm it. Since a rogue customs agent had gassed Mako, her diagnosis and treatment was complementary. Mine wasn’t, so I didn’t bother. It would be the same diagnosis as hers, albeit I would have reduced symptoms. Depending on what it was, because I might be wrong, I could either let my body purge it naturally, or buy the appropriate compound to bind with the CO triple bond and oxygenate it. While the doctor took breath samples from her, I took a stroll around the bay. I didn’t need to be there for that. It was stark, with whites and light greys dominating the colour palette, though the red in the flag they’d painted over the door stood out. Made sense, no fabric to brush against patients and enable cross-contamination. Lines of beds with holographic privacy curtains flanked the walls, with perhaps a dozen in use. Quickly, I counted: there were enough beds for a battalion! I know a station this size should have more than fourteen medical cases a day. Perhaps they weren’t at a full complement? It would fit with the reduced number of ships we saw in orbit. The boy had his honour detail, but I could overhear his physician giving him pointers on Twi’lek diets and healthcare. It was pretty basic stuff, the kind of thing you could find out by looking at Wookiepedia. His voice was old, dignified and probably belonged to the most senior member of staff. Bet he didn’t have to pay for the specialist treatment or the nutrient supplement capsules. I’d grumbled all the way back to Mako and saw her chatting with the Ensign. Still: hadn’t anything changed? No, a med droid was walking away from the bed. Good, the sooner we confirmed she was free from Carbon Monoxide, the sooner we could get out of here. “So, what’s the prognosis? I asked, as cheerily as I could manage. It only sounded a little surly. Mako didn’t answer my question: she just glared at me. I checked the chart. As I thought, acute carbon monoxide poisoning, mostly treated on site. Good, we can go. “Got everything you need?” I asked Mako, and again got a glower for a response. This time, Mako slid off the bed, shouldering her backpack and stalking to the left. Huh, call it a hunch, but I think she’s pissed off at me. Punching the call button, she waited in bitter silence for the lift to arrive. It did, and the grey doors hissed open. It was large for a lift, not hundred person sized, but big enough for a few people and a hover-stretcher. We filed in, Mako crossing to huddle against a corner. I went over to stand near her, and the ensign pushed the main floor button. The doors closed, sealing away the white-greys, the paywalls and the smell of antiseptic. The lift started whirring down, and the social temperature followed. “You know, I was telling Mako here all about my brother’s security company, in case she wants a real bodyguard,” the ensign revealed after a minute. Wow, did he really just shift the blame of a corrupt officer on me? “One, I am a real, licensed bodyguard, not some kids who just finished their national service and want to make it as private contractors. Two, there was no way to predict that one of your customs agents would be corrupt. Three, he didn’t go after my client, he went after me and she volunteered to accompany me, and four, I’m the only one who can get her where she wants to go,” I snapped back at the smug ensign, keeping my hand away from my blaster or any of the suit controls. I didn’t want him claiming I’d drawn on him: right now, I’m not sure if Mako would back me up. The only thing I drew was a deep breath and blew it back out through my nose. Why couldn’t they have put the hunt somewhere more civilised, like an uninhabited asteroid outside the galaxy? “Wasn’t there? You sure made out like you knew,” Mako asked quietly, and her sweet voice froze everything it touched. Really, are we going to do this right now? I’d tried to bluff him. It hadn’t gone as planned, but I’d made the assertion. Either Mako wasn’t savvy enough to recognise the bluff, or was smart enough to realise I was using the truth to augment the bluff. If I had to guess, I’d go with the latter. “I only found eighteen cases of a slaver operating at Vaiken station in the last decade. Hundreds of thousands pass through Vaiken Station every day, through over a hundred rentable and public hangers. For him to have not gotten caught, be on duty in our hanger and get into a position where he could move on us was so infinitesimally small, it’s statistically impossible.” I didn’t mention that if I’d told her, she’d have overreacted, as I’d seen, and then the real guards would treat us suspiciously. I have some tact. The trick to getting through customs anywhere is not to attract suspicion. That wasn’t any different here. If anything, it was more important, since the guards here could gun you down if they even suspected that you were a threat. Yeah, note the word ‘suspected’: they don’t need proof if you’re not an Imperial citizen. “So, you’re saying you didn’t trust me enough to let me decide that for myself,” she decided, brown eyes as yielding as a Wroshyrr tree. Uh-Oh: I know that look. Wookies get the same one when they’re about to go berserk. I’d just pushed one of her buttons: treating her like a child. “You know how we got out of there, why the Sith came when he did?” she asked, not leaving me a moment to answer, “I told him. I sliced into the holocomm. distribution frequency and left everyone a message and a loop of the live footage from the gas chamber. That took me fifteen seconds. Imagine what I could’ve done with a few minutes, or twenty six hours?” “Uh,” I said, with about as much grace as an Evocii scavenger. Yeah I know: sterling wit. She closed her mouth and went back to glowering at me. With anyone else, anywhere else, I’d have called it a day and ended the partnership there. Unfortunately, I needed Mako a lot more than she needed me. She had the tourist Visa: I was technically here as her bodyguard. Without her, I couldn’t get any further into Imperial space. She could walk away and board a ship back to Nar Shaddaa. It wouldn’t get her vengeance on Blood, but she could join up with the exchange or any Hutt: they’d be crawling over each other to get someone with her skills. Part of the signing deal could easily be a bounty on Blood’s head. I had to do something to make sure she didn’t recognise that and walk away. Also, she deserved better. She made a good point and she had gotten us out. That’s more than I managed. “I didn’t think it was relevant. Evidently, that wasn’t the case. I screwed up on that account and I should’ve told you. That’s my mistake and I own that. I’ve been working solo or in loose groups for the past three years and got used to not telling people anything unless necessary for them to do their job. That’s not a justification, just a background hang-up I’ll have to overcome. Now, is there anything you can think of that I should tell you before we head down to Kaas?” I know it’s a trust building exercise, but it really left me exposed. I don’t like being exposed. “I don’t know, is there?” she asked straight away. Good girl, throw it back at me so I can’t hide anything. Of course, I could spin a dramatic web of lies to distract her from asking any other questions. I wouldn’t though. She’s smart enough to figure I’d avoided the question and its’ still early enough for her to back out. “Uh,” I paused, trying to plot out anything that could raise an issue, “I’m a Chiss exile from Csilla. I’ve served time in a Republic prison on shipjacking and kidnapping charges but now I’m a licensed bodyguard and bounty hunter. My original motivation to enter the great hunt was a twenty-five percent cut of the prize money but now it’s to beat Blood. I’ve got contacts in most of the major crime syndicates and smugglers unions and have occasionally done agency work. That’s all I can think of, so any other questions?” “Okay, where did you get the slaver data from?” she asked a question I really didn’t want to answer, especially not in earshot of an Imperial Guardsman. I could lie. She hasn’t known me long enough to pick up on my cues and humans really can’t read Chiss. Only trouble was if she caught me, I’d destroy any chance of working with her. No, potential risk exceeds potential reward. “From the Strategic Information Service,” I answered honestly. Ensign Shan didn’t turn to look at me or audibly gasp, but I knew he was definitely listening. “Why were you in the SIS databases?” simple, straightforward and with very little wriggle room: I hate those kinds of questions. “Who else would have the most accurate data on an Imperial station without a ton of whitewashing and propaganda? Also, slicing into SIS databases isn’t a crime in Hutt or Imperial space,” I answered her question with a rhetorical one. Rhetorical questions are a great way to mislead without deceiving anyone. Everything I had said was true, though it didn’t say a lot. She eyed me for a long minute before finally uttering, “all right.” Her eyes pretty much told me what she was thinking. She’s a hardcore slicer who probably wouldn’t think twice about slicing into a galactic security agency, but I’m not. I don’t have mysteriously powerful cybernetics geared for it or even a fancy computer spike. There’s no way I could’ve sliced in with the borrowed equipment she saw in Nem’ro’s Palace. I must have another way in, possibly a contact. Sudden evasiveness could be that I’m protecting them. Well, she’s not wrong. “How did you meet Braden?” Okay, another one I’m not too eager to share right now. This one wasn’t potentially larcenous, just long. The elevator illustrated my thoughts and whirred to a stop. “Uh, I’ll tell you over lunch, which I’m guess I’m paying for,” I delayed as Ensign Shan stepped out of the elevator. We had time enough for it, especially if we found a place near the docking bay. It wouldn’t be cheap, but I had enough to cover it. We headed out onto Vaiken Station, seeking our docking bay, a restaurant and a shower, a real one this time. Edited February 23, 2015 by Feldraeth Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Magdalane Posted February 23, 2015 Share Posted February 23, 2015 Wow, ok then. When we first started this thread, and yes, I was in on the beginning of it, if we didn't have something good to say, we just said nothing. Very sorry, Feldreath, to have annoyed you. And with that, I take my leave of this thread. I thought everyone was welcome, and that this was a safe place to express our thoughts and imaginings. Clearly, this has changed. Everyone who I've written with for the past two years, I thank you and wish you all well. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Feldraeth Posted February 23, 2015 Share Posted February 23, 2015 (edited) @Magdalene: Uh, not remotely what I meant. I meant to say that I enjoyed the construction and style of your writing, even if the content was not to my admittedly childish/immature/juvenile tastes. You haven't annoyed me in the slightest and I welcome your contributions to the thread. I'm sorry if I offended you, as I can be unintentionally offensive when I'm not paying attention to the impact of flippant comments. I thought I was making a joke regarding half-naked Corso and the Diet Coke ads. Evidently, it was in poor taste and so I apologise. EDIT: If it wasn't the Diet Coke thing, was it the audience comment? Every prose has an audience in mind, all with different focuses and interests. The main audience for this thread is moderately to highly intelligent women, most of whom have children and are theoretically married. I don't fit into any of these categories (well, except the intelligent one I hope), and so my interests, which are not that of the thread, are different. You probably already knew that, and this is coming across as incredibly patronising, isn't it. If not the audience remark, I'm not sure what I said that offended you, but again, I apologise for doing so. If you prefer, I will withdraw from the thread and not trouble any of you again. EDIT: The openness and un-judging nature of this thread is what caused me to break my habit of lurking and actually post. Since then, I've had nothing but positive experiences telling stories and sharing comments on here. The notion that I've driven you away, like GreyJediBP drove away Tatile (Broan and Rochester), makes me feel like Herostratus, he who defaced the temple of Artemis, a vandal. EDIT: It's the following day and I've revised the initial comment, taking out anything that I think might have caused offense. The text is still there, but I've colour coded it. Again, I wasn't intending to offend, I'm just oblivious and insensitive. Edited February 23, 2015 by Feldraeth Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Striges Posted February 23, 2015 Share Posted February 23, 2015 (edited) @AKHadeed: This is for the enemies prompt. It features Zeedor and Viska. They are not friends. If they were modern archeologists, they'd write letters in response to each other's papers making passive aggressive comments about methods and interpretations. Since they're Sith, they just try to kill each other a lot, which I think we can all agree is much less awkward for the bystanders. Best ever introduction to character relationship. I immediately thought of the legendary Marsh-Cope feud. I can't help but imagine (in another world) Zeedor and Viska exchanging heated letters-to-the-editor in trade journals and torpedoing each other in the peer review process. That said, as a fan of archaeology, Viska’s approach made me cringe, as well as her disdain for Zeedor’s more meticulous methods. For her, archaeology is all about the prize. The big gold hoard, the complete skeleton. The crystal at the heart of an ancient saber. Nothing else matters. The minute someone finds something bigger, she has to top it. It’s a very Sithy approach. Zeedor, on the other hand, prizes the knowledge gained from all parts of an excavation, broken pottery sherds to corroded coins. Every dig is a win. That fits with his meditation, where he gathers strength from many small things. It’s no wonder Viska can't stand--or understand--him. @Feldraeth: I liked Mako standing up for herself, and Kaina’zul’anon realizing she needs Mako and may have to make some changes in the way she operates. Ensign Shan was definitely a memorable NPC. Nice job giving him a bit of background. On The Holocall: I understood Maga took the child shortly after childbirth, when Noctaire was in no position to give consent. And she chose that time because Noctaire wouldn't otherwise agree. Maga absolutely believes she is doing what is best for the child. At the heart of this particular disagreement is an ethical dilemma. You labeled the stories as Religious Differences as well as Alternate Perspectives and that’s what I saw. The Jedi believe a child must learn from infancy to control the Force and Maga believes she’s doing the right thing. Noctaire believes she could raise her Force-Sensitive child without help, and that that’s the right thing. Neither sees that the other might have a point. Neither will compromise. There’s more between these two than just Kailee, but her birth was the breaking point. Might they have arranged a different, less absolute situation? Maybe. But not at that point in their relationship. I understand you want the reader to be angry with Maga for what she did, but I still feel sad for everyone involved. Maga believes Noctaire had nothing to offer her daughter. Noctaire will never forgive Maga for what she did. Kailee probably won't ever know her mother. They all lose. You’ve already posted an apology to Magdalane, but I’m going to post my response anyway. [edit: and edited further before I could post. No problem, still leaving my response] If you aren't a fan of love stories, fine. Leave the commentary at what you liked. Or decline to comment at all; you don’t have to comment on everything. There’s no call for telling everyone how much you hate love stories and comparing them to commercials. Even with the "I'm not the intended audience" caveat. Everyone welcomed you when you began sharing your stories with no other request than labeling spoilers and gruesome content. Constructive criticism is fine, tearing down another’s work simply because it isn’t the kind of story you like is not. It serves no purpose other than to make another contributor feel bad and discourage others who thought this was a welcoming space for amateurs. Contributors to this thread, like all authors, are writing the kind of stories they like to read. As such, the stories vary from dark and gritty (and I include a good bit of my own work in that category) through drama and romance to ridiculous fluff. There’s no single audience. Everyone--writers and readers alike--has different taste. The only true commonality is liking SWTOR and wanting to tell our character’s stories. This thread is open to all. Let's keep it that way. The openness and un-judging nature of this thread is what caused me to break my habit of lurking and actually post. Since then, I've had nothing but positive experiences telling stories and sharing comments on here. Like this^^ Edited February 23, 2015 by Striges Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mrtwo Posted February 23, 2015 Share Posted February 23, 2015 (edited) Hello again! I wrote a really long and fun Kouhun and Rizantos story, but my computer broke, and with it a lot of my enthusiasm. I let my sub lapse and stopped writing for a while. This is the first new thing I've written that the writing demon inside my head likes, so I hope you enjoy it too! Title: Transitions Prompt: Goodbyes Words: 2,239 Spoilers: None A shadow passed over his wares as two suns were obscured from view. The elderly shopkeeper looked up in surprise and then cowered in fear. “Please, take anything you want, just leave me be!” he cried at the tall menacing figure that had silently materialized at his stand. Nearby pedestrians hurried on their way. The thing must have been nearly seven feet tall, with toned muscles and a face obscured by a heavy cloak. It would have given a rancor a run for its money. The figure raised one of its large hands and the shopkeeper flinched away. The figure didn’t strike the elder but instead drew its cloak back to reveal its face. The shopkeeper saw that he was dealing with a Rattataki, uncommon even on Tatooine these days. This particular Rattataki had none of the facial scars or piercing commonly associated with the race, but the shopkeeper’s guard didn’t drop nonetheless. You didn’t become old on Tatooine by being trustful. “I need some black pigment.” The Rattataki articulated in a deep voice. The old man could hear it even over the noise of the normal market crowd. The shopkeeper’s brow furrowed. “That like paint?” he asked, fear momentarily forgotten in light of a business transaction. The Rattataki gave a long-suffering sigh. “Yes. Like paint. Black heavy-duty non-viscous paint.” The shopkeeper began looking through his crates of merchandise, keeping one eye on the Rattataki. The hulking figure stood as still as a statue. Finally the shopkeeper found something. “Hmm.” He murmured. “Might this suit your needs?” he asked, presenting an old tube of green paint. “Racers used to use the stuff to pretty up their rides.” The Rattataki didn’t look impressed. “As you may recall, I requested black paint. Green paint would not work for what I have intended.” The shopkeeper shrugged and tossed the green paint back into a crate. “Black paint is in high demand ‘round these parts. Black Sun like to use it to paint skulls and such on their vehicles and weapons. Might have some come next shipment” The Rattataki sighed again. “When will you receive your next shipment?” “Mmm, could be tomorrow, more likely the day after.” The shopkeeper suddenly remembered who he was dealing with. “I’m sorry and all but it is what it is.” He smiled reassuringly. The Rattataki grimaced and turned away from the stand. The shopkeeper watched as the big cloaked figure appeared to glide silently around the marketplace corner. “What an odd one.” The shopkeeper mused. He wouldn’t be forgetting this encounter anytime soon. The door to their meager abode slid open and Rizantos Terso yelled in surprise from his position on the sofa. A large man in a robe was now standing in his living room. The figure’s hood slid back before Riz could go for a weapon. “Oh. It’s you.” The Sullustan wiped sweat from his brow and exhaled heavily. “Tell me the next time you go out in a creepy robe, yeah?” Kouhun gave Riz no regard as he hung the robe from a metal hook on the wall. “My private matters do not concern you.” He replied, and then sat down next to Riz. “And besides, I didn’t find what I was looking for.” Kouhun said, leaning forward in agitation. Riz asked the question that Kouhun knew was coming. “What were you looking for?” Kouhun begrudgingly replied, “Black paint. The shopkeeper had green but said that black won’t arrive until tomorrow at the very least.” “Black paint?” Riz laughed. “Why didn’t you just ask? I can make black paint for you.” Kouhun looked up from his brooding, confused. “I did not realize I was traveling with an artist.” “I’m no artist, but I was a vehicle mechanic. That includes intimate knowledge of vehicle paint jobs.” Riz replied, winking awkwardly with his large Sullustan eyes. Kouhun raised his eyebrows. “You can keep your intimate knowledge, I just need black paint.” Riz leaned back and put his feet up on the table, adopting the pose of a pondering master. “Okay. I’ll need the thoracic regions of ten Juba beetles, five lizard skins, a bucket of water, a cool hat, and some Jawa Juice.” Kouhun chuckled harshly. “You will have to provide the headwear and beverage yourself. I am no man’s slave.” “Not slave, just assistant.” Riz soothed. “Besides, if you don’t get me that stuff then I won’t help.” Kouhun gave one of his patented long-suffering sighs and then rose to re-don his cloak. Ever since their arrival on Tatooine two weeks ago his life had been a monotonous hell. Still, it was better than the fighting pits. Kouhun had been ready to end it all when Riz showed up to be rescued. “Don’t forget the hat!” Riz shouted after him as Kouhun squeezed through the door. Kouhun was beginning to regret not checking out back on Nar Shaddaa. The ten beetles were easy enough to find. They preferred to lurk in dark alleyways waiting for rats or small children to wander by. What they had not anticipated was an irritated Rattataki. “Damnable insects.” Kouhun muttered as he carefully crushed another beetle under his heavy boot. The thoracic region had to be intact or this glorified fetch quest would be for nothing. In twenty minutes he had ten dead beetles’ torsos in his backpack and green bug guts up to his knees. Kouhun made quite a sight lumbering through Anchorhead’s streets towards the outskirts of the city. This was Tatooine though, and something interesting usually meant something that would kill you, so any passersby passed by quickly. Kouhun soon reached his destination. A patrolling Republic trooper gasped and raised his weapon as Kouhun approached the speederpad. “Halt!” the soldier ordered, his voice shaky. Kouhun obeyed and drew back his cloak. “I do not intend to harm you, soldier.” He stated. “My mission is to hunt sleen.” The beasts in question lurked several yards away basking in the desert sun, evidently wary of the bipeds. “Okay, alright.” The soldier replied, attempting to calm himself. “I’ll need to see some ID first.” Kouhun slowly drew closer, keeping his hands in view, and presented an ID chip. Hopefully it was worth the credits he had paid for it. The soldier looked it and over and was apparently satisfied. “Jim Bob Jamison, huh?” “My parents were very creative individuals.” Kouhun replied, internally rolling his eyes. Next time he would pick the fake identities. “Well, everything seems to be in order. There’s no law against killing vermin, so go wild I guess.” The soldier said, handing back the ID. “Go wild, indeed.” Kouhun murmured, and walked past the soldier. The sleen looked up at the approaching threat and hissed. Kouhun reached into the pocket of his robe to draw a silver staff. A blaster would damage the skins and he needed them intact. Practice from melee rounds in the fighting pits served Kouhun well as he struck down lizards in a blur of speed and efficiency. One strike to the head from the staff ended the beasts quickly. The Republic soldier watched from a safe distance, his wariness of the Rattataki renewed at this display. He could’ve been killed ten times over while he was inspecting the ID chip. The reptile massacre was shortly over. Kouhun knelt down and retracted the ends of his staff to make it into a compact cylinder. He put that back in its pocket and then drew a hunting knife. “More animals guts.” Kouhun sighed and began cutting. Riz hummed softly as he started to dice vegetables for the soup he was making. Meat was cheaper in the market, but he had decided to become a vegetarian after smelling his adopted father’s burning flesh the day it all happened. It had smelled just like Bantha steak. The flat they were renting was small but it worked. The best part was the expansive kitchen which for some reason took up more space than the rest of the rooms combined. Riz had been a cook on Coruscant before working as a vehicle technician, and Kouhun could not cook at all (Riz suspected he had a wife before all of this), so making the meals was up to him. So far there were no complaints. Riz thought this a big achievement considering his sole irritable customer. The door flew open with a cold hiss. Vegetable cubes and a cutting board went flying as Riz screamed and flailed about. “By the moons, I keep forgetting it’s you.” He breathed heavily, hands on his knees. Kouhun stood in his admittedly creepy cloak in the doorway. “How do you move around so silently?” “Do not judge me by your blundering standards.” Kouhun grumbled and hung up his gore-covered robe. The backpack he wore was bursting at the seams and internal fluids of indeterminate origin covered his clothes. Kouhun swept the junk on the living room table aside and squeezed off the backpack. Riz watched in stunned silence as Kouhun carefully placed ten beetle thoraces and five lizard skins on the table. Finally, he pulled out a jug of water and put that next to all of it. “Wow.” Riz said. “You must really want that black paint.” Kouhun looked up from digging in the backpack. “I really do.” He replied, and withdrew a classic artist’s hat from the bag. Kouhun tossed it at Riz with disgust. “Hopefully this satisfies your vain requirements.” Riz toed the hat with apprehension. “It looks…dirty.” He criticized. “Where did you get it?” “I spent the rest of our credits on that bucket of water. This, I found in a trash bin behind the cantina. You will wear it and you will make me black paint.” Kouhun approached Riz, picked up the hat and firmly placed it onto Riz's pale head. “It’s quite comfortable, actually.” Riz found himself actually enjoying this strange headwear. He brushed the dirt off it and surveyed the paint-making materials spread around the room with an appraising eye. “All right, I will need you to leave the room. When I am finished I will summon you.” Kouhun blinked in surprise. Never before had he seen the clumsy Sullustan act so serious. “As you wish.” He replied, and left the room, but not before grabbing his bedroll off the floor. After a day of being a junk hunter on the streets of Anchorhead he could use a nap. Kouhun was awoken by a sharp acidic odor. It filled the house and burned his eyes and nostrils. “Ugh.” He mumbled, arising from the kitchen floor. Rizantos entered his blurry vision. Strangely enough, he was wearing a white facemask. “Oh good, you’re awake. The paint is done. You should go do whatever you want with it before it dries out.” Riz patted him on the arm and headed for the back door. “Ah, yes.” Kouhun murmured, rubbing his eyes and stumbling to the living room. He pushed back the curtains separating the rooms and was instantly wide awake. The ten beetles and five lizards were now in dozens of different places around the room, in various stages of biological disassembly. Bowls and pots dripped unidentifiable substances onto the previously clean floor. Above it all, the burning smell of the paint was strong and acidic. It was a vision of Hell. On the center table Kouhun saw a still vat of black paint, the product of all of this chaos. He coughed and forced himself to walk towards the table. Once there, Kouhun looked down and saw his reflection in the glossy surface of the paint. For a moment the horrid smells and sights around him faded from view, and he saw only himself in the paint vat. There were lines on his face that hadn’t been there a month ago. A month ago, Kouhun marveled. Only a month ago he had been a math teacher with a beautiful human wife living on a peaceful colony world. That life was over now. Tears disrupted the fragile surface of the paint and Kouhun’s reflection was broken. His father back on Rattatak had told him that men never cry, but his father was dead and had been an evil son of a Hutt anyhow. Most of the people Kouhun remembered from Rattatak were. He hadn’t stuck around on his homeplanet long enough to figure out why some people painted their faces, but it didn’t much matter why. Kouhun knew why he was doing it: to remember what he had lost, and to mark the start of something new. Whether or not this new life would be better or worse remained to be seen. Kouhun dipped his fingers into the paint and raised them to his face. He closed his eyes and drew four black lines down from the center of his skull towards his forehead; one for his wife, one for his school, one for his home, and one for his students. He dipped his fingers again and made four more lines from his cheeks towards his mouth and nose. One was for Rizantos Terso, one was for his Nar Shaddaa slave master, one was for the people he had killed in the pit, and the last was for the Imperial who had murdered his wife. Goodbye, Yvette. Kouhun let go and closed his eyes. He was out of tears. His deed completed, Kouhun slowly moved onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. He was already fatigued again, and the paint would take a while to dry. Edited February 23, 2015 by Mrtwo Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lunafox Posted February 23, 2015 Share Posted February 23, 2015 @Magdalane I really enjoyed your piece about Miriah and Corso. As a reader, I really got a strong sense of how intense and passionate her feelings are for Corso. If I were to guess, I'd say Corso reciprocates them fully. I recall one of his letters to the femsmug, where he expressed his desire to run a ronto farm. I like the idea that they've settled down and are living the dream. Nice stuff there, I hope you'll continue. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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