The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!

[Oliverthefighter]

Title: Wrathful Exposure

Prompt: sight (ish) bear with me

Characters: SW Crew And My LS Warrior, Oedicar

Spoilers: The Quinncident, Sith Warrior Rishii story

 

The Hand's perspective:

 

Servant One had no idea what he was seeing, it seemed that the wrath had decided to abandon all sense to put on what appeared to be a dancer’s outfit, and began to parade around his ship. Servant Two could find no logical or reasonable explanation for what he was seeing, Servant One had told him that Wrath had begun to act erratically, but the sight before him made him take a step back. The wrath was no longer exhibitioning himself in front of his crew, but he was now sitting down at a tiny pink plastic table, surrounded by a stuffed manka cat, kl’or slug and gormak (the big ones). Several seconds later Vette showed up carrying a tray of similarly colored plastic teacups, her face convulsing in so much held back laughter. Oedicar, after receiving his teacup, lifted it in the direction of the opticron currently in the room.

Several days passed in this manner, with Oedicar doing increasingly silly things to hopefully force the servants of the emperor to gauge their own eyes out.

Finally, after a week of tea parties, Oedicar running around in a dancer’s outfit and several reenactments of famous Downton Academy episodes, the servants had had enough. Mercidully, the wrath had endeavored to destroy the opticrons. He succeeded, and the servants breathed a sigh of relief.

 

Oedicar's perspective:

 

The best prank Oedicar had ever pulled began on the planet Rishii. He had just defeated the nova blades in their stronghold when he received a holocall from Vowrawn. Vowrawn wanted to meet in secret, fine by him. Upon reaching the safe house, he and Vowrawn began to talk about the empire’s state of affairs when Oedicar finally decided to ask why Vowrawn had called him for. Vowrawn’s answer came as a surprise to Oedicar, “you are being watched, there are several droids cloaked both by technology and the Force that watch your every move and record them for someone’s else’s viewing pleasure. An evil smile played across Oedicar’s lips at this,, “well then, if they want to watch me, let them, that means I can have some fun with them.” Vowrawn seemed puzzled “what do you mean by that?” Oedicar’s reply came quickly, “I’m going to make them wish they could forget what they see and hear for the next few days.

Oedicar was completely eager to begin, but first he bought camera equipment and mikes so that he could record the whole thing for himself as well, you never knew what someone would pay for sheer ridiculous original video. The next step Oedicar took was to force Quinn to set up a laugh track, clap track and other various reality TV staples. It only took three separate threats of exposing the Quinncident to Broonmark and Pierce before Malavai complied.

Day one of The galaxy’s new disturbing reality TV hit: Wrathful Exposure began with Oedicar opening the airlock to his ship wearing a green sweater (a la Mr. Rogers) and horn rimmed glasses. He strode inside and began to take off the sweater, hanging it up on the coat rack he had bought specifically to compliment the green of the sweater. He spent the rest of the day pretending he was a character from an old kid’s show, with various Cameos of other characters played by his crew.

The beginning of Day two found Oedicar wearing the dancer’s outfit he had spent months searching and praying for on the galactic trade network, finally getting the only one available for several orders more expensive than the original cost of such an outfit. The crew, upon seeing the outfit for the first time, all shared mutual looks of horror before Vette and Jaesa began to giggle, which led to a full on explosion of laughter that Oedicar had to edit out later for dramatic reasons. The close of that day showed Oedicar wearing the scarlet nexu outfit he had found on the gtn for far less than he thought it would have been, all things considered. He then demonstrated why such an outfit would never work in real combat when he attempted to duel Jaesa, and it fell off, something he had to blur for maturity rating reasons.

Day three began with and sustained a marathon of one of Oedicar’s favorite shows, My Little Manka. Treek, Vette, Jaesa and Broonmark all watched, Transfixed as Oedicar ranted at the television for the slights of those avaricious and bizarre entities within the show. Quinn and Pierce stood a short ways away, addicted to the show, but too embarrassed to say or do anything but keep watching.

Day four had Oedicar round up his entire crew and force them to watch a full marathon of Oedicar’s favorite show, Downton Academy.

The fifth day found Oedicar forcing his crew to reenact scenes of his favorite Downton academy episodes with him directing, though Oedicar was sure the amount of screaming about prized gooseberries was much less in the actual show.

On the sixth day, Oedicar was at work sewing a sweater for each crew member, with the exception of Broonmark, he would be receiving a friendship bracelet, there was no way the fur would wash out of a sweater if Broonmark wore it. It seemed only Vette appreciated the sweater, Oedicar had pretended not to notice when Pierce had grabbed the flamethrower. He also pretended not to notice when Pierce began to gripe about the sweaters being fireproof.

Oedicar’s famous tea party began at dawn on the seventh day. It did not last for long when Quinn spoiled it by pointing out the nonexistence of tea. Surprisingly, Pierce agreed with Quinn on this point, which they both regretted very quickly. Several fade to blacks later, Pierce and Quinn found themselves to be unwilling guests of the same tea party. Vette continually taunted Quinn for his repeated attempts to escape it, but Vette always caught him before he got 10 meters.

Satisfied in how he had tormented his silent watchers, he went out and destroyed the opticrons, utilizing the device Vowrawn had given him.

A few days later, Vowrawn opened his mail to find a package addressed to him from the Wrath, on a card was written: “A gift for you, for all the help you gave me in this endeavor.” Vowrawn opened the box, inside was a file containing many hours of edited video.

After watching it, Vowrawn went and scrubbed his eyes with soap before sending it to a Kaas city TV publisher that he knew would publish it for all the worlds to see.

 

Author's note:

 

Please forgive me.

 

Second Author's note:

 

The name comes from the Hidden Camera show: Maximum Exposure (2000)

 

Third Author's note:

 

Thanks to Toatokua for helping me come up with some ideas for this

 

[Oliverthefighter]

My apologies for the double post, but my AC broke and I can't get to sleep because of the heat, so I wrote this story to pass the time.

Prompt: Tools Of the Trade

Title: The Broken Cypher

Character: Oranis and Agent Crew

Spoilers: Main story Agent Spoilers.

I hope you all enjoy!

 

 

Post Quesh (the first time)

“The destruction of my mind began at the behest of the Sith, and it would be that event that cements my final fate. The Castellan restraints were a system designed to create the perfect agent, if they have no will of their own, then they can only do as they are told, nothing else. They truly become Cyphers.” I laughed at the thought, “first I was given the designation of Cypher nine, now that I have done what I was asked of me, going so far as to kill the sith behind at great personal cost to me, the physical injuries were far outdistanced by the psychological torture I had endured.

“It was enough to drive one mad,” I thought, “I was a Cypher in name, and did my duty. But now that another mission has come, I am left alone in my mind, no one can help me, and the only thing that can is the voice of a dead man narrating my suffering. Watcher X is dead, but he haunts me still. He was right, the empire sicced me on their problems, and instead of putting me down like the rabid dog I was when I finished, they put in a new doghouse, and welded a durasteel leash to my brain. And now that I have begun my new mission, I hve witnessed the horror that is being a prisoner in my own mind, helpless to do aught but watch because someone handed control of the leash to the enemy. The imperial dog died that day, left in its place was a growing cur that sought to kill its father. I now have to sit there like a lapdog, unable to speak, to rebel, my crew doesn’t even know what is going on, probably best for them anyway. How poetic, I have no mouth and yet I must scream. I began this mission a Cypher in name only, but I complete it as one in full.

I didn’t blame Chance for trying to save his own life, A kid like that has no malice in use like that, he was dying and so he reacted like a wounded animal, using any means of escape he could to survive. I would have done the same, I just wish Chance had trusted me, and not let prejudice of my status of defector cloud his judgement.”

The Shadow Arsenal

I entered the room, there was an objective to complete. Watcher X’s voice came back to my head like a Klaxon, loud and blaring. “It’s time, the new programming is ready.” “Good, that means it isn’t the force that shall free me, but my own volition.” I began to think of what to do, I could free myself, or I could create a weapon out of my own mind so that the rabid cur they created could be unleashed. “Watcher X, I want to make a weapon of my mind so that the Sith and whoever else decides to try to take my mind again is met with a fierce and bloody denial.” :Understood, Assassination and berserker protocols merged, Identifier: Maverick. Keyword is Iconoclasm.” Oranis spoke aloud now, “Keyword: Iconoclasm, Implement Maverick protocol, accept commands only from me, Code is: Rage against the night”

I relaxed a little, now there would be no further commands I am forced to obey, My choices are now my own, and the words I speak are as I wish them to be. I moved on, I have a mission to complete.

One Year later, Corellia

I was slammed against the wall, hard. The sith I fight is barely even scratched, and it is a wonder I am even alive. I have no weapon but my knife, no backup and communications are shot, my options are slim to none. So, rasping and coughing in pain, I evaluated the few choices I had when I remembered the castelan restraints I had changed. I decided to try out the one thing I haven’t had cause to yet. For good reason, I hadn’t been this close to mortal danger since Quesh, before I had the new programming. “Keyword: Iconoclasm, activate Maverick protocol.” The words rang loud in my head, I felt the ache of my limbs fade to nothing, my broken arm now has its full range of motion back. I feel amazing, the only thing I have to worry about now is how to kill this sith.” Oranis’s humanity appeared to fall away, replacing it was a feral grin, and the demeanor of a wolf whom has its prey cornered.

Nothing matters now except the hunt, nothing could stop him because nothing could see him unless he wanted them to. The sith that had thrown Oranis never saw it coming, one moment the beaten, broken figure lying before him disappeared in flash of light. The next moment the Sith felt a poisoned, heated knife slip into his back, then to have his flesh burst as the poison mixed with a volatile substance exploded, killing the sith before he could blink in surprise.

Something happened then, my sight began to fall away, instead of acting, I could only watch once more, and that terrified me. Watcher X returned to his head, “miss me, did you? I am going to have such fun now that I am back and not shoved in some hole in your head, do you know how frustrating it is to have to download your consciousness to a series of cybernetic implants? Of course you don’t, so why don’t you just relax and let me have the reigns for a while, I promise to take good care of your body. It’s been so long since Nar Shaddaa, two years, maybe? I don’t know and I don’t care, so have fun in the same hole you shoved me!” Oranis’s mind began to slip, falling towards a seeming hole at the back of his awareness, and then he was in, the door closing, and I lost awareness.

It was some time later that I managed to fight hard enough to break out of the hole, and I found myself having to fight Cypher to make sure not to fall back in. Cypher, as I decided to call him, noticed and began to try to shove me back in, but I threw him in after a short tussle. It was not long before Cypher climbed back out, “you think you can keep me in there? you opened the floodgate, you can’t close it now, not like this, not with force!” Oranis was desperate, so I said the two words again, a shout that all around would hear and wonder “KEYWORD: ICONOCLASM!” I awoke in an imperial forward base, covered in wounds, but didn’t feel a thing due to the adrenaline pumping through my system. It was a little later when I realised every single man on base was dead, all of which showed the cause of death to be vibroknife incisions upon close inspection.

I began to look for security tapes, anything to tell me what happened here while I was out. The news wasn’t good, I saw my body enter the base, and after a few moments, the calm expression on my face had disappeared, The eyes that were mine and not mine took on a dark glint, the smile of a feral beast grew on my lips, and then Cypher struck the nearest imperial with the knife he had pulled faster than the eye could see. The men saw this and reacted, all firing on my body, my armor absorbed most of the damage, but a few shots got through, Cypher was unfazed, he gutted every man in the room just because he could. It was then that my body collapsed to the floor, a few moments later, it got up and began to inspect the bodies.

Done and terrified out of my wits of the havoc I had caused, I promised myself to never let Cypher out again, too many lives would be cut short if I did, and that was something I could not live with.

I buried my head in my hands, I had asked to make myself into a rabid dog that could not be stopped, and I had gotten exactly what I wanted. A smile began to tug at my mouth, Cypher and I spoke in unison, “I have reaped what I have sewn, and now I have a mission to complete. Intelligence will pay for their crime, just like the Star Cabal."

 

 

 

Author’s note:

 

 

The definition of Maverick being one who is independent, unable to be controlled,

The definition of Cypher refers to someone who lacks any self, only doing the bidding of someone else.

The definition of Onomatophobia is the fear of the meaning of words or phrases.

Iconoclasm is the act of rebelling against established beliefs and institutions

I really love the vocabulary the writers used for the agent, it really shows how the empire treats its non sith members, the lack of real names for anyone in imperial intelligence creates a feeling of no self, only what the sith and the empire want. Being especially poignant in regards to how the agent’s story progresses: first an infiltrator, then an enforcer, then a mindless drone sent to eliminate threats, then a double agent, and lastly a rogue agent who seeks their own freedom from their own imprisoned mind. Climaxing at a point where the agent can turn on the empire, work with a diabolical manipulator, reestablish the status quo, or erase themselves entirely so they can do what they want outside of the empire’s control.

 

 

Kudos to anyone who can tell that I have spent way too much time thinking about the meaning of the storylines.

 

 

The answer is: not nearly enough, Bioware storytelling gets so deep sometimes! I love it!

 

 

Edit: I changed perspectives halfway through writing, a few errors needed to be fixed.

Edited July 8, 2015 by Oliverthefighter
Grammar

[Diviciacus]

So I'm stuck with a story, and I'm looking for some advice (and obviously this is the most superior place to ask).

 

I have a character seeking advice from a couple of lore characters. In writing the story, it feels a little repetitive, not in the answers my character is given, but. in the fact that logically, my character has to explain everything three times. Almost like a quest in-game >.> (Oh hey, go find item/do the thing/person here. then there. then that third place)

 

What do?

[Lunafox]

So I'm stuck with a story, and I'm looking for some advice (and obviously this is the most superior place to ask).

 

I have a character seeking advice from a couple of lore characters. In writing the story, it feels a little repetitive, not in the answers my character is given, but. in the fact that logically, my character has to explain everything three times. Almost like a quest in-game >.> (Oh hey, go find item/do the thing/person here. then there. then that third place)

 

What do?

 

Well, assuming you can't get them on a holo conference call and discuss it all together, what you might try is varying up the circumstances in which you speak to these people, so that it seems to have more variety. Com-ing everyone from the ship would get dull...but you could com one, meet another in a bar...or even have an accidental run in with the third in an unexpected place. (Like you both get arrested and thrown into the same cell or something). Or you could space out the conversations with other scenes that bring something to your story, so it's broken up a bit. I hope that helps you.

Edited July 9, 2015 by Lunafox

[AKHadeed]

And if worst comes to worst, just glaze. "She told him the situation" or "I filled him in" works pretty well if you're in fear of repetition. You can always pick the interesting notes back up!

[Bultitudes_Loke]

Yeah, what AKHadeed said. Plus, if you are writing first person, you get to gently knock on the fourth wall a bit by acknowledging the character/player's frustration at the repetition

 

That's some meta right there

[Diviciacus]

Quiet thread this past week.

 

Also, Lunafox, AKHadeed, and Bultitudes_Loke, you guys are the real MVP's

 

EDIT: On advice that didn't exist when I posted this, I'm breaking the story into parts. Sorry to anyone who read the whole thing >.> (Seriously almost 4,000 words is too much for a forum posted story.) Feldraeth is also a real MVP, even if he's still wearing Columi gear after three years!

 

Comentarii:

 

 

@Alaurin: Oh man, that was some seriously funny ****. I've never even seen the Hangover movie(s), and I was pretty close to crying I was laughing so hard. Much to the annoyance of my dog. Everyone's reactions are great. Are they more in-character, or closer to their... counterparts from the movie?

 

Nurkolas' voice grates on my nerves. It was sheer commitment to trying to get the characterization right that drove me to listening to his convos on youtube. I don't think I did it well, either, since all the vids I found... very few took conversation options I and/or my BH would have. I never really got a good look at the sorts of things he might say back to a person with the personality of my BH.

 

Also, as a point of clarification, could you file the "Family" story under Apokteina, before "This New Dawn's Light," please? (Metallica, why you only have one good song per album? ;_; )

 

@Bultitudes_Loke: Excellent story. I can just see in my mind the two of them slugging back shots in the bar. Are they both body type 3, perchance?

 

Oh, I'll probably dent the Fourth Wall a bit if I ever get around to writing a story from my Inquisitor's perspective. It's so much fun to do that talking to Harkun. I'm sad there weren't any opportunities to do it after chapter 1 finished.

 

(Also, note to Feldraeth: the four years in carbonite would only be considered the time since I played my sorceror if you called days "years" - at least at the time of writing the hypetrain story)

 

@Frauzet: Glad you liked it! My BH is definitely a no-nonsense kind of ***-kicker. She's not a bad person, per se - but has no patience for bullsh*t.

 

It's hard to guess what this mystery object is, but the language narrows it down a fair amount. Install. Has to be technology. Test drive. Has to move. Could be any vehicle, but given that we're talking about Star Wars, it's most likely a speeder. Not a whole one, a part. It's original, not a replica, so the speeder's vintage. How many light years exist between my guessing and reality?

 

Does this story follow from another, where it's explained how Nikeo ended up in a hospital bed? I really need to read through some people's back catalogues. But I'm also terrified to.... although reading oneself to death is not a bad way to go, all things considered.

 

@Lunafox: In a point of massive irony, accidentally meeting a particular character is how I'd already written my Shadow speaking to them. I was stuck trying to have the character talk to a second person without explaining everything a second time.

 

@AKHadeed: Great interplay between sisters that love each other, but all seven circles of Hell will freeze over before either will admit it. Same question to you as Frauzet: your BH's nightmares, are they explained in a previous work?

 

Also, I managed to fix my story through your suggestion of glossing - while keeping a character narrative consistent (that is, consistent between stories featuring the same character) reason why the glossover would happen with a particular character to whom my Shadow is speaking.

 

@Oliverthefighter:

 

Wrathful Exposure: Definitely good for some laughs, but... what is going on? I don't really get it, beside it seeming like he's trying to annoy the Emperor's Hand into submission?

 

The Broken Cipher: Very interesting. The crunchy formatting really draws you into the feeling of Oranis losing his mind. I can't remember - is your Agent's choice actually a choice in the story? All I remember is my choice to ditch all programming and then going HAM on Kothe's team. >.>

 

And yes, the Agent story was masterfully done. We can only hope KOTFE story is half as good!

 

Clarification: a definition of cipher is also "A method of transforming a text in order to conceal its meaning." Which also dovetails neatly into the Agent story. Also, onomatophobia isn't the fear of words; it's the fear specifically of names. ὄνομα, ὀνόματος [onoma, onomatos] in Greek means "name." Personally, I find that to be more fitting for the Agent than what you listed.

 

 

 

Story time!

 

Title: Absolution, pt. I

Prompt: Traditions

Characters: Synchordia

Chronology: Proceeding from Uncertainties

Spoilers: Consular spoilers for Chapters one and two. Knight chapter one spoilers.

Words: 1451

 

[TRIGGER WARNING]Although lacking in either violence or sexuality, this story may offend some people.

 

 

The clicking of her boots on the tile floor echoed back to Master Synchordia as she strode down the hallway deep within the temple. She reflected on the testimony of Kira Carsen before the Jedi Council: through sheer force of will it was certainly temporarily - and perhaps permanently - possible for Children of the Emperor to cast out his influence. The real question, Kira had offered, was whether a Child could be persuaded or even want to abandon the lure of the Dark Side.

 

Redeeming Sith, Syn mused idly, is difficult but not impossible. The secret is learning what drove them to the Dark Side, and convincing them their cause need not be abandoned by walking into the Light. The false promises of power offered by the Emperor himself, however... may be too strong a temptation to ignore.

 

Memories and sensations of Darth Lachris flashed through her mind.

 

Speaking of temptations...

 

She paused in her path down the hallway, steepling her fingers, bowing her head, and taking a quick series of deep breaths to calm her thoughts.

 

A familiar voice calling Synchordia's name pulled her from the reverie of her light meditation. "Master Synchordia! Barsen'thor! Do you have a moment? I know you're on your way to a meeting with Master Satele, but may I speak with you?"

 

Synchordia whirled, smiling, and gave Yuon Par a short bow. "Of course, Master Yuon; I'll always be your padawan. What can I assist you with?"

 

Yuon anwered with a small smile of her own, but evident concern in her expression. "Not me; you. I have sensed your troubled thoughts even halfway across the galaxy, ever since your report to the Council on Balmorra's liberation. I may still be mostly on medical leave, but I have been busy reading. What happened? Talk to me."

 

At this, Syn leaned back against the hallway wall, sighing resignedly. "Little point in attempting to conceal something from one's own master, as always."

 

There is no emotion, there is peace.

 

She slumped down, crumpling her travel cloak beneath her. Sitting on the ground, arms folded in her lap, Syn closed her eyes and took a steadying breath before glancing up at her former master.

 

"I... was not entirely forthcoming in my missive, and initially I was not concerned by the particular detail I omitted. By the time things began to intensify to the point where I was worried for my own safety and that of my ship, I had no time to contact the Council, nor Grand Master Shan especially.

 

It began on Balmorra, but does not end there. In the executive boardroom of the Balmorran Arms main factory I dueled Darth Lachris, ultimately being forced to slay her. My report ends there. Lachris' story does not.

 

In the final moments of the duel, I seized an opportunity to strike and despite hoping to capture her alive, impaled her with my saberstaff. Through the flow of combat and my actions, we were close, a dozen centimeters apart perhaps, when I ran Lachris through.

 

Even as she was dying, her strength failing, she - she wrapped a hand around my neck, fingers in my hair, and I believe it was her intention to... kiss me. Thankfully, she became one with the Force before she managed."

 

Synchordia tilted her head back against the wall, closing her eyes as Yuon settled into a cross-legged seat beside her.

 

"I have learned in my studies that not all Sith feed off hate and anger; some feed on other passions."

 

Yuon nodded slowly at her padawan's words, recalling those lessons years ago.

 

"I believe that Darth Lachris was among them; that she was attempting somehow to use her sexuality to wrest power from me in some way. Attempting to sustain her life, perhaps.

 

As time went on, as Augin Blaesus leaked details of my missions on Quesh and Hoth to Imperial forces, I found myself spending much time considering the nature of the Sith. Meditating, letting the Force guide me, to learn how the Empire could be so perfectly hiding a mole on the Moonrise. Yet I found no answers for reasons we now know.

 

Worse, I found for my inner disquiet no peace, no knowledge, no serenity, no harmony. I feel as though the Jedi Code is falling apart around me as feelings and thoughts rise unbidden in my mind. Of Darth Lachris. Of... other women. Meditation is a powerful salve, and aids me immensely with keeping my mind mostly clear of her influence, but of late I have found myself wondering what would have happened if Lachris had kissed me. I find myself wondering - I find myself wanting her to have kissed me.

 

I fear I am the dutiful padawan following in her Master's footsteps, and succumbing to some kind of Sith curse."

 

Yuon Par shook her head at her former pupil's confession. "I'm a historian and archaeologist, Synchordia, and my expertise is in tangible artifacts, not artifacts of the Force. But, I don't think you're suffering from a curse.

 

Let me tell you a story." She gave her padawan's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I've spoken to Duras Fain since he returned to Tython for healing. In his madness, everything he told you on Nar Shaddaa... was true. I cannot deny what happened between the two of us on Malachor III. We were already in love with each other, but training and duty prevented us from acting on it.

 

Morrhage's power was forcing all of us into being unable to control or even temper our passions - any of them. The attraction between Duras and I spun out of control into lust. Sidonie and Parkanas had to physically pull us apart so we could escape, and... after twenty years I'm still ashamed of what happened. Of being unable to control myself.

 

I heard you saved Laranna Fain from Vivicar's curse as well. I need to thank you. She's not just Duras' daughter, she's... mine, too. Even if we almost never speak."

 

Synchordia's umber eyebrows shot up at this revelation. "I thought our order prohibited such things?"

 

"Yes and no. After what happened on Malachor III, Duras and I were going to have a child, regardless. But, if Jedi were never allowed to marry or have children, the Order would be much smaller. Non-Force-sensitive parents only very rarely have Force-sensitive children.

 

While love is an emotion which can become dangerously volatile, under special conditions and considerations - psychological tests and so on - Jedi have married and even had families without turning to the Dark Side. How else do you think Master Satele came to be Grand Master?"

 

Recalling Master Bastila Shan in the Noetikon of Secrets, Syn nodded at her master's words.

 

Yuon continued to speak as she stood. "I don't think you're under the effects of some curse. You began your Jedi training at a very early age. Darth Lachris' actions on Balmorra may have been the catalyst for your realization that you feel these same emotions as any other person, Jedi or otherwise."

 

"Master Yuon, I find myself having these thoughts not concerning men... but other women."

 

Extending a hand down to Synchordia to help her up, Yuon offered a comforting smile. "I'm afraid I can't help with that personally, but after your meeting with Master Satele, visit the library. Consult the archives and some of the history and anthropology holocrons. I think you will find your situation is hardly without precedent."

 

As she rose to standing Syn replied, "thank you for speaking with me, Master Yuon. I do not believe I'm any less conflicted, but your words have at least given me information to work with." Tugging lightly on her cloak to lessen the wrinkling, she finished, "but I suspect I'm late to meet with Grand Master Shan."

 

"Goodbye for now, padawan. Go well." Yuon embraced her former student before turning back down the hallway to the main temple complex.

 

For her part, Synchordia stood silently with fingers steepled, watching Yuon Par until she disappeared beyond the hall's curve. She resumed her walk to the Grand Master's chambers, considering the wisdom of her Master.

 

Perhaps Master Yuon is correct, in that my encounter with Darth Lachris has caused a desire for intimacy to kindle within me. Or perhaps much like Vivicar's curse, it amplifies what was already there, buried beneath the surface.

 

With that in mind, and being unable to fully control these thoughts, I must respectfully disagree with her assessment that there is no Sith duplicity at work. Grand Master Shan has faced the greatest Sith of our age and triumphed; I hope she will be able to provide guidance.

 

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

 

 

 

 

Author's notes (Contains Consular and Imperial Balmorra spoilers):

 

 

I took a bit of liberty with both the Consular backstory as given in the game. Yuon Par says the Consular was "stronger in the Force at four years old than [she] was at fifteen", so the Consular has been in the Order since at least that young. I reworked things a tiny bit to assume that for most, if not all that time, Yuon Par was the Consular's master, instead of inexplicably switching masters when arriving on Tython. That always made no sense for me, for either Jedi class.

 

I also took a bit of liberty with Yuon Par's backstory. It's pretty obvious from Duras Fain's curse-addled raving on Nar Vegas that he and Yuon Par were knocking boots on the mission to Malachor III, and Laranna Fain just happens to be approximately the right age. Whether she actuall is Yuon's daughter or not is up for speculation (Syo Bakarn implies that Duras doesn't spend many nights alone), but for story purposes I felt she needed to be their child, not just his.

 

And in a point of irony, I only elected to use my Shadow for this exploration into the internal conflicts arising out of being gay because when I was rolling a toon of each class and then playing through the stories with the current x12, I got to Imperial Balmorra and realized my yet unplayed Consular has the same hairstyle as Darth Lachris (even if they're different species). And already knowing what the Consular's ending to Balmorra is (I played halfway through a Consular years ago with an ex), I couldn't pass up the opportunity when I finally got there to do something between them in a story - they're essentially warped and distorted mirrors of each other. Which is probably why the Consular specifically encounters Lachris. Especially considering Darth Lachris' codex entry plainly states her virulent hedonism, and she is the only non-companion NPC who can be slept with more than once. So, despite the lack of SGR stuff in vanilla TOR, in my head, if any NPC would be bisexual, it's Lachris. Because she'd bang anybody.

 

Also, I might have just a little bit of self-plagiarism in there. I thought it would be clever if my character spoke out loud the exact thing she wrote in a journal.

 

 

Edited July 10, 2015 by Diviciacus

[Striges]

More Month of Meta: Senses

 

Week of July 10, 2015

Sound--Sound is the second most often used descriptor. At the most basic level there is spoken dialogue or ambient sounds. Beyond that, a character may have a distinctive quality to their voice: nasal, raspy, or with a peculiar accent. Maybe they yell. Maybe they whisper. Ambient sounds might be soothing--a waterfall, soft music, leaves fluttering in a gentle breeze. They might be loud--machinery, nearby traffic, raucous neighbors. Used well, sounds tell the reader about the setting and the characters without the writer spelling it out. This week, try to use sound in a creative way.

 

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 NotLPs:

Signed, Sealed, and Delivered - Our universes see a lot of contracts made, whether verbal gentlemen’s agreements, electronic documents, or witnessed formal pacts. Sometimes contracts are entered into willingly; sometimes they’re coerced. Sometimes they’re broken; sometimes they’re protected against outside challenges. Sometimes old agreements come back at an unexpected time. Write about a contract your character made or avoided.

 

Catching Up - Pretty much all of our characters have pasts that might catch up with them in the future. Sometimes that's not a good thing, like seeing an old enemy. Sometimes it's great, when an old friend comes to help you when you need it. Either way, it's bound to be interesting.

[Oliverthefighter]

@divacious

No, the choice is freedom, berserker or assassin.

You remove the programming, shut down pain or gain hyperfocus, in my head, it's a combination of the three

Edited July 10, 2015 by Oliverthefighter

[Feldraeth]

Hey everyone, I'm not banned yet.

 

Gah, this was meant to send this morning. better late than never.

 

Replies

 

 

@lunafox:

Now you know? So that’s why Theron isn’t in KoFE. He’s with Lia in their post Emperor-stomping coitus and they won’t be disturbed by anything so minor as an invading empire. I’m already spinning ideas on the Torian/Gault guys’ night out in my head.

 

@Diviciacus:

Price of Power: Yeah, looking back at that part, I should have made it clearer he was waking up and his mind was filtering reality into the dream.

I’ve previously mentioned, but not elaborated about Zul’ background. Before becoming a criminal, she trained to be a pharmacologist, hoping to join the Sabosen family (akin to a combined NHS and police force). She has kept her skills sharp, and equipment up to date. It also comes in handy since the ship they stole doesn’t have a Kolto tank

Echoes the idea of rape… Yeah, that’s because it is. Mandalorians are a raider culture, and while the Mandalorians often decry the Jedi’s practice of taking children, they also forcibly take children on raids to be raised according to their code, but not before killing or enslaving their parents. Sometimes, children arise from their slaves, and this tradition ensures they are mandalorians.

I’d be surprised if I got banned over it, considering it’s pretty tame and how much I’ve prefaced it. Curious about the RO, but I know you can’t talk about it.

 

@Alaurin:

In my defence, the prompt was ‘I dare you’

Also, sorry about the flashback. Those are a big reason why I put warnings in, because I’m insensitive and don’t notice when I smash into a sensitive topic.

 

@Frauzet: It’s not as if they haven’t had any sex ed, so much as Torian’s would have come from people bragging around the camp fire and Mako has two protective father figures, so hers is exclusively from the holonet.

 

 

 

Comments

 

@Toatokua:

You use a lemony author (prose in third person where the narrator has a personality and sense of humour)? Haven’t seen that since Sir Terry Pratchett died.

 

@Diviciacus:

Nice armour and great descriptions on the shop. Ah Nurkolas, how I’ve always wanted to take you up on your offer but all my characters are scrupulously honest or don’t see the value of screwing over an ally. Still, nice to see him somewhere. Also, John Caveson – he isn’t by any chance voiced by JK Simmons, is he?

 

Alas, I must rebuke you. Infiltration is perfectly valid for a shadow: I use it for Cierra (my shadow who’s only shown up in my Christmas post, so far) and it fits perfectly with the Jedi way of combat. In battle, A Jedi seeks to end conflict as swiftly as possible. If she can neutralise the combatant (not necessarily fatal) before he endangers others, it’s just as valid as drawing a saber. [Flippant]Besides, it’s not like she’s crushing her opponent’s mind or using the force to attack (as opposed to only in defence and for knowledge)*coughPsychokinetic Blastcough*, unlike the serenity shadow [/Flippant].

 

As for your repetition question, I’d stretch the questions out over different stories, approach them in different ways and get different answers that still tell Syn what she’s after. For example, she wants to talk to Master Syo, Yuon Par and idk, Jace Malcolm. Master Syo could be a holocall between former student asking her old master. Yuon Par may have retreated after everything and so the journey to reach her and personal introspection with the force guiding her thoughts could be as important as the story, possibly with the conversation even being offscreen if you feel it is truly redundant. Jace Malcolm could be in the field somewhere (like Bonus series Alderaan) and so she has to journey there and help him before she gets the chance to talk to him.

 

@Alaurin: So many questions, but enjoyable as always. I’ve always wondered though, how do you and Kitar write each other’s characters so believably. Do you write them together or let each other edit before posting?

 

@Bultitudines_Lokes: interesting use of family, with the Mandalorian blood brothers hunting the Padawan of their client’s brother and the only reason they hunt him is to honour Mandalore’s loyalty to the Sith.

 

@Frauzet: Wow, so Thorns and Nikeo really are the same base but moulded by different choices. I liked the normalcy of the piece. it's easy to forget characters are more than literary tools but actual people from time to time (or at least, I do). Wonder what the Mcguffin is though...

 

@AKHadeed: Welcome back!

Dear Sweet Baby sister: Angie doesn’t stun and haul in a possible bounty? Must be family I liked your sparing use of emotion and the way Kitzha sets her up, with a favoured dish and familiar place to try to make her relax her guard.

 

@Oliverthefighter: - contains Agent spoilers

Wrathful Exposure: Hand’s perspective: da*** did I just read?

Wrathful Exposure: Oedicar’s perspective: Bwa ha ha ha ha, wonderful. Poor Vowrawn though. Great way to make sure the servants don'e complain you broke their bugs

The Broken Cypher: So, Oranis picked the choice to, forge his own mind into a weapon. Wow Also, Watcher X. Vindictive, even beyond ‘death’, and using the agent the same way he fought against (except he obviously only did so to get in himself. Nice use of concealment, by the way. One question though, hasn’t Intelligence been disbanded at this point? Unless he took the Sith intelligence route, which I somewhat doubt (because seriously, has anyone ever taken that route?) Overthought a Bioware plot? Nope, never happens: that’s crazy talk. one last thing, dropping a line between paragraphs makes it easier to read.

 

 

 

What's more, I have a story, and it contains

.

 

Prompt: Sight

Title: A steward of Ziost

Perspective: Eirue, Ziosti Stewardess

(file under Braca please)

Word Count 768

Spoilers: None

Chronology: about 4 ATC

 

Warning! Terrible poetry within

 

 

 

Trapped within the warmth and the darkness, I see none yet can see them all.

Never leaving dreamless slumber, watching over his darkened hall,

Guarded by uncounted ready guns embrace,

Ever at my captor’s beck and call.

 

Once out in the sky, I was happy. Faintly, I remember the world,

Dancing through the streets and the senate,

Serving as aide, war banners furled,

Then uncounted pain as skies all filled with death,

Then ‘round my neck a slave collar curled,

 

Wires link my brain to the system,

Keeping safe my hateful new lord

Protecting his infernal defences,

Knowingly my freedom he hoards,

I once dreamt my people all came to wake me up

Now I hope they put me to the sword.

 

A voice fills my mind, stirring me from my slumber. There have been many over the years, -sad, strange and twisted people, some who even viewed me as a god of sorts: The god of the fortress, the ghost in the machine-, but to this one, I listen. Kaas accent over Ziost drawl. She says little, but promises much: promises me release and freedom, if I but help her with one simple task. Who am I to refuse?

 

Time passes and I watch, he, my most hated master, plots, schemes and lusts. She, my lovely rescuer learns, grows and avoids. Soon, it comes to a head. He demands she go to his bed, and she refuses. The throne room flashes crimson, blades slicing and poking at our challenger, my hope for freedom adorned in red and yellow. None pass, and her foe, my captor, leering and cradling his impotent weapon, snarls to shoot.

 

I cannot resist his command: try though I might. Magma fills my veins. He knows I delay. Pain flows freely and it’s all I can do to ignore it. It’s not enough. The automatic gun turrets turn, and open fire. I did as he asked, and the pain recedes. There’s a scream, a sharp cry of surprise and rage as he realises. He never specified whom I should shoot at.

 

He promises agony beyond anything I already know, but it is a hollow threat. Nothing he could imagine could compare to a second of my limited omniscience. It’s too late for him. He is lean, young and skilled, but she is leaner, younger and has more passion, more power. There is one more thing she has, a relic of her race. Long ago, on a world locked in eternal day and night, I learnt its people could see heat. The lights die, so does her saber and soon he follows suit. My hated Lord is dead.

 

Time passes. Chaos rules the fortress. People go, old senses and new, fleeing in fear or enticed away by offers they can’t refuse. Test subjects are taken with them, willingly or otherwise, though some are set loose, roaming the grounds. I remain here, alone and all-seeing, forgotten by my hated new lord.

 

Time passes and peace comes to the fortress. Those who would stay have. Most are new senses, bright new auras unbeaten and innocent of the fortress’ dark history. Still I wait, forgotten. Slowly, cameras are lost, to decay or malevolence I cannot fathom. I serve silently, a ghost in the machine, until one by one, I’m left with one camera, my last link to the outside world, the corridor outside the surgery.

 

Once, I loathed watching this camera, seeing the screaming, weeping people going in, and the abominations that left. Now, I cling to it tenuously, my life raft on the sea of absolute, empty nothing. Few go in, fewer come out, but those who do are largely the same as when they went in. Eventually, I see a withered woman wheeled in, youth and colour drained from her eyeless face. The last camera winks out. I open electric eyes and for the first time in thirty years, I see.

 

She stands over me, red skin and purple eyes contrast with the yellow and black dress. She is almost topless, a pair of fabric strips, the only cloth covering her breasts, drop down from her choker and curve under her arms to join at the back. She wears a headdress, polished wood supporting a silver crest I don’t recognise. Her face is sharp, angular, geometric perfection marred by a series of hieroglyph brands running under her eyes. Long sinuous tendrils run down behind the headdress, brushing her bare lower back. Slowly, shakily, I lift my withered arm and push it forwards, against her stomach. she is warm, smooth and real.

“How are you, Eirue?” Alive.

 

 

 

Notes

 

 

So, who can tell I really can’t write poetry?

The concept, tune and more than a few phrases come from the Mechanisms’ ‘Sleeping Beauty’ (can be found on

 

Also, Braca doesn't normally wear that. she's normall in force perception robes, albeit dyed blue and black. She's wearing this because he commanded it of her and she hasn't had the spare time for fripperies like shopping for new robes.

 

 

Edited July 10, 2015 by Feldraeth

[Lunafox]

@Diviciacus Ah ok, kinda hard to know how to best help when you don't quite know the situation, still I hope I managed to, even if just a little bit. In that case, yeah, just summing it along the lines...'He spent the next quarter hour apprising so and so of the situation' as a lead it would do fine, like I think it was AKHadeed that said that first.

 

@Feldraeth Grats on still being among the living He hee, yeah, I should totally make a sig out of what you said. I'd probably get a few Theron fangirls hating on me for stealing him away. But really, can you blame me? Maybe that's how Liatrix will end up carbon frozen (how embarrassing would that be?) Anyhow, I'm looking forward to Torian and Gault!

[nervousheroA]

*awkwardly walks onto the stage*

 

It's been way too long since I've been on here, honestly. While I would ramble on about my excuses, we're not here for that. I'd like to make ammends by posting a story about my Operative, Sierra. This takes place during the Macrobinoculars questline, contains Agent companion spoilers, and contains 1947 words.

 

Using the prompt Communications Breakdown, here's Ice and Snow:

 

 

It was bad enough they had to return to the coldest piece of crap in the galaxy, but somehow it always seemed to end up even worse.

 

Sierra and her crew had landed on Hoth in pursuit of someone called the Shroud, some terrorist who seemed to be all over the place. Her search had led to Hoth, sadly, because of possible sentry probes. One spy to another, she admired his resourcefulness.

 

Splitting up was dangerous here, but travelling in one large group was also dangerous, slow, and just plain stupid. Therefore, they had split into a pair and a trio. Kaliyo, Dr. Lokin and Vector were exploring the north, nearing the Republic settlement, and Sierra and Temple took to the ice field to the south, towards the mountain range. Their biggest concern, besides the cold, was the communications issue. Comms were always fuzzy on the planet, whether it was due to the weather or the terminals just freezing over, no one really knew.

 

A strong gust of wind forced the ex-agent to stop in her tracks, tugging down at her cold-weather gear as the wind sapped what body heat she had managed to retain. Behind her, Temple copied her movement, taking another look at the satellite display of the terrain she had pulled up. Having been on Hoth long before Sierra had found her, she wasn’t as severely affected by the wind, but still just as cold.

 

“This is Commander to Recon,” she called. “Come in, Recon.”

 

There was a one-second delay before the signal from the other team got through.

 

“This is Recon to Commander. It’s cold as ****, but we’re alright.”

 

“What’s your present location, Agent K?”

 

Static.

 

“Agent K?”

 

“-------mander?------interfer-----no time-----shelter----”

 

“Oh my God…” She reached down to her belt, fumbling with her portable communications stabilizer, and was horrified to discover it coated in ice.

 

She had designed the thing specifically for this mission. She couldn’t afford spotty communications, so she had created a device that attempted to stabilize comm relays as they fell out of whack thanks to Hoth’s environment. She had created two, one for each team, and now it seemed hers was shot.

 

“God ****ing…” She threw the device on the ground, fuming.

 

“Uh...sir?” Temple had looked up from her holomap to point upwards. Following her gaze, Sierra observed the scouts who were camped at the top of one of the ridges. They both recognized their uniforms as Republic.

 

“Hello!” the ex-agent yelled, donning the best Coruscant accent she could think of. “I’m sorry to bother you, but we seem to be lost! Is this Aurek?”

 

“You’re nowhere close to Aurek,” replied one of the scouts. “What are you guys doing out here? No one said anything about patrols coming this way.”

 

“If you can get us out of this cold for a while,” Temple offered, using her familiar Balmorran accent, “we can answer your questions inside.”

 

The scout glanced at her compatriots, who nodded.

 

“Deal. I’ll signal a transport. Wait a moment.”

 

 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

It took about a minute for the armored transport to reach their location, and another two to reach the closest Republic installation, which appeared to be Outpost Senth. Along the way, the scout who had found them removed her helmet, revealing her young face with short, black hair.

 

“So, who are you two supposed to be?”

 

The two girls glanced at each other quickly.

 

“I’m Bella,” said Sierra. “And my partner here is Francine. We’re with the SIS.”

 

“I thought you looked a bit off to be military,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “You must have the worst job postings ever.”

 

“Something like that,” the agent replied. She suddenly felt extremely tired.

 

We heard the Republic has been getting false info that says that they can tame those damn snow creatures,” replied Temple, not noticing her companion’s distress. “We’re trying to figure out who’s doing it, and how.”

 

“I’ll bet you anything it’s the Empire,” the scout growled. “Damn Imps won’t leave us alone…”

 

“Are you alright, sir?” asked Temple, noticing Sierra’s face start to pale.

 

“I think I’m running low…” she mumbled, closing her eyes as her vision started to spin. “I must not have noticed it when we were hiking. Stupid…”

 

Recognition instantly flashed in her eyes. Immediately, she started fumbling through her insulated travel case. She froze.

 

“Oh no…” She pulled out a vial of solution from the bag, and the ex-agent was horrified to discover it was frozen over.

 

“I think the seal on that bag of yours must have broken,” the scout replied. “Whatever it is, we can probably heat it up right here if you really need it.”

 

She shook her head, feeling various parts of her body draining their energy supply.

 

“Not...possible…”

 

“I need a re-breather right now,” said Temple, keeping her friend upright.

 

“What?”

 

“Now!”

 

Startled by the outburst, the soldiers fumbled around one another furiously. Eventually, the medic of the group found one.

 

“Got it,” he called, handing it to the ensign.

 

“Thank you. Hold still…”

 

Feeling the metal attach to her skin, her vision settled almost immediately. She looked at Temple, who gave her an encouraging nod. She took an experimental breath, and felt the sharpness of clarity beginning to return.

 

“Thank you,” she muttered, her voice distorted by the mechanical mouthpiece.

 

“Are you alright?” the scout asked quietly.

 

“Her lungs were damaged during the Sacking,” Temple explained calmly, sinking into the semi-lie like it was real. “It’s not bad enough to prevent her from working, but severe enough to require monitoring. That’s what the solution is for.”

 

“It’s stimulates her lungs,” she replied, understanding, “so she can breathe better?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She crossed her arms.

 

“Why can’t we just thaw out the solution? Is it really that much of a difference?”

 

“I don’t completely understand it myself,” Temple admitted. “From what our medic could translate for me, the conditions for administering it have to be perfect, or the other chemicals start reacting...violently.”

 

Her eyes widened.

 

“That’s...impressive.” She turned to Sierra. “You’re a fighter. I commend you for that. We all lost something during the Sacking…” The caravan shuddered, coming to a stop. “Here we are. There’s a long-range terminal you can use to contact whoever you need. I doubt you two are here on your own.”

 

 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

When they arrived at the station, Temple led the agent aside.

 

“Sir, are you really ok?”

 

The ex-agent responded by sighing quietly.

 

“Look, it wasn’t your fault,” she continued, knowing what the agent was thinking. “I can make the call if you’re afraid of talking. Besides, I think we should inspect the rest of your equipment, make sure nothing else froze over.”

 

Slowly, she nodded, and they returned to the base.

 

Temple reached the large holoterminal in the room as Sierra went into the adjacent one.

 

“This is Shadow team to Recon, hailing from Republic Outpost Senth. Repeat, Shadow to Recon, from Senth. Please respond.”

 

It took noticeably longer than usual, but Kaliyo eventually answered the holo.

 

“You know, I was almost worried something happened to you two out there. For a little bit.” The image quickly switched to Dr. Lokin.

 

“Why are you two all the way over there in Senth? You’re supposed to be much farther South.”

 

“Turns out our stabilizer froze over,” she explained. “That’s why we lost communication earlier. Thankfully, a Republic patrol found us. Now we’re just warming up.”

 

“Lucky indeed.”

 

The ensign cringed at the extra meaning in his words.

 

“Is there anything else?”

 

Temple hesitated.

 

“Apparently, we misjudged the conditions necessary to keep our medical supplies sealed from the cold. The vials are completely frozen. We had to put Belle on a rebreather, or she would’ve collapsed within another minute.”

 

“Looks like your part of the mission was quite the failure…” he muttered dryly. “Luckily, we had much greater success. We have what we came for, but we shouldn’t discuss it over an open channel. I’m sending you rendezvous coordinates. We’ll meet there.”

 

The image switched to Vector.

 

“Is it possible to speak with...Belle? Just for a moment?”

 

She cringed.

 

“Belle is checking the rest of her equipment at the moment. I don’t really think she’s in the mood to talk.”

 

“We can discuss what happened once we’ve all reconvened,” said Lokin. “Until then, Recon, signing off.”

 

As the holo flickered off, she felt Sierra approach from behind.

 

“How’s everything looking sir?” Temple asked.

 

“Nothing else appears to be damaged,” she replied. “We’re all set.”

 

“We can provide transportation for most of your trip,” explained the scout from earlier, “but it’s a little too close to Imp territory for my liking. Regardless, I want to do you girls a favor, so I’ll take you as far as I can.”

 

“That means a great deal,” said Sierra. “Thank you.”

 

 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

The transport vehicle skidded to a stop at the start of the Icefall Plains, its entry door hissing as it opened. Upon exiting, the trio could see the Phantom docked close-by.

 

“That’s a fancy ship!” cried the scout as the wind blew harder.

 

“Well, we try to live in style.”

 

Sierra made a move to remove her rebreather, but she was refused.

 

“Keep it. I think you’ll find greater use of of it than I ever could.”

 

She stared at the woman for a moment.

 

“I appreciate it, Ms…”

 

“Rebecca. Sergeant Rebecca Mayne.”

 

“It’s been an honor to meet you, Ms. Mayne,” replied Temple. “Take care.”

 

“You as well.” The sergeant climbed back into her transport, and the jeep took off when they reached the entry hatch to the ship. Lokin as standing just inside, ushering them in immediately.

 

“I have a vial of solution already prepared, agent,” he said. “We can discuss how you two managed to end up in a Republic outpost after you’ve warmed up a little.”

 

 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

After being readministered of the oxygenating solution, and after the data on the Shroud’s activities was discussed and analyzed, Sierra had retreated to her room for almost an hour. Not even Vector was allowed to disturb her at the moment. Which was fine and good, but after a while, she came out of the room for a few seconds.

 

“Ensign? I’d like to talk with you in private for a while, if you’re not busy.”

 

Nodding, she followed the Commander to her room, the door re-sealing behind them.

 

“I want you to know,” the ex-agent began, “you did a great job out there today. I don’t hold you accountable for any of what happened.”

 

“But?”

 

She crossed her arms, her gaze lowering.

 

“I’m sorry for putting you through all that crap. I was quite useless all the sudden, wasn’t I?”

 

“None of this is your fault, sir!” Temple insisted. “The true coward is the one who shot you in the first place. You’ve held up surprisingly well since then.”

 

“That doesn’t change what I’ve had to become, ensign. I can’t help but feel weak. Useless.”

 

“You’re anything but.,” she replied firmly. “You’ve been incredible every step of the way. The way you handle the different aspects of your choices is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been able to serve the Empire better than I ever could before thanks to you. You’re the opposite of weak, Sierra.”

 

She smiled upon hearing her real name, just a little. Closing her eyes, it reminded her of a time many years ago, when her parents used to comfort her whenever she became discouraged. She sighed.

 

“Thank you, Raina. That means the world to me.”

 

“Any time,” she replied, grinning warmly. “Now, Vector seems to miss you terribly. You may need to calm him down for a while.”

 

 

Author's Notes:

 

 

Hopefully this sheds a bit more light on my Operative as a person, as well as the medical issues I hinted at a long time ago. Gotta say, it's good to be back.

 

[Feldraeth]

Hey everyone, it’s not the awaited Torian/Gault talk, but it’s something for this week’s prompt. This time, I'm making sure it gets in before the new one, even if it makes me late.

 

Comments

 

@NervousheroA: Great story and characterisations. I’ve unfortunately dismissed Temple as a patricidal Watcher 2 stand-in until recently. It’s nice to see her step up, covering for your agent on the fly in hostile territory. I also enjoyed the echoes of the Hoth planetary quest, with imps and Reps brought together by the weather (and white maw). All we’re missing are the Ortolans and the Wampa (which sounds like a band) and more info on this mystery injury that crippled one of the eight most powerful people in the galaxy.

 

@Diviciacus: I forgot last time, so I’ll mention it now. Zul originally trained as a pharmacist, hoping to get into the Sabosen family (civil defence and quasi NHS of the Chiss Ascendency) until she got a criminal record (which barred her from it, just like in real life), so she chose a new line of work. I’ve mentioned it sporadically in her works, particularly the Ghosts of the Desert line (which I will finish off, sooner or later: honest.”

 

@Kitar: Thanks for answering. Running as a group levelling for the vast majority of the game definitely gets their mannerisms (from both game and author) in your head. Didn't know we could use other people's characters like that, though (with permission, obviously).

 

 

 

Prompt: Sound, House of Something

Title: The Dark Temple

Perspective: Kaina’zul’anon, mercenary

Word Count: 2,158

Spoilers: DK dark temple spoilers, SW and BH class missions for the area as well.

 

 

 

The Dark temple loomed up all around us. Ominous carvings stretched across every wall, of faces in agony, their mouths twisted into silent screams. Pillars lined the vast hall, with a second floor rimming the walls like a balcony. A statue of some ancient horror stood on the far side, balefully glaring at the roof above the two entryways with eight slitted eyes. All around, it was silent, no power. Even the rains outside were muted. In the distance, the possessed scurried about, too absorbed in their power plays to notice us. We padded in, mud-spattered, drenched and undaunted. One more task and we were in the Hunt proper.

 

“I’ve turned off my transceiver and I can still hear them. If I lose it in here, don’t leave me, please,” Mako pleaded, her eyes wide as they twitched over every surface. Come to your master, Alarin Yeah, I’m not a fan of this place either. The constant whispering wasn’t helpful. Still, her comment gave me an idea.

 

We’ve had to fight our way through possessed archaeologists and their guards, and they all had one thing in common. The ones who could use the force came at us with vibroswords, lightsabers and chunks of wood, even when they had pistols in their holsters. The spirits that controlled them used its own skills or knowledge instead of co-opting theirs, so far as I had seen. There was no chance a thousand year old spirit could control my heavily modified, patchwork power suit. Still, if that happened…

 

“Mako,” I said very calmly, tapping a command into my bracer, “if I stop moving or start acting strangely, I want you to withdraw. Head back to the hotel and wait a day for me to make contact. If I don’t, get off-world as soon as possible.” Ignoring her transceiver problems, she stared right into my irisless red eyes. That won’t help you see my thoughts.

“Uh, you okay?” she asked

“Yeah, just setting up contingen-.” Something shifted in the corner of my eye. I spun, guns out, ready to fire.

 

“Hey, don’t shoot!” Vette squeaked, hands raised in surrender. She looked better than the last time we’d met. She was still rail thin, but the distended stomach and some of the gauntness in her face was gone. Instead, she looked like she’d gained a bit of muscle mass, especially on her arms and legs. The latter I could more readily see because they were almost bare. The hour is near, Orphaen. You need to choose. Me or your master

 

She’d traded in the Korriban castoffs for something a long grey raincoat, grey tunic and a pair of skintight but flexible pants; also grey. So, the Imperial colour scheme had infected her too, figures. At least Mandalorians like greens and browns in their armour. Slung across her shoulder was a large satchel, already bulging with a few choice items. Hmmn, so she’s a tomb raider. That would explain why she was a capture on Korriban, but not why she’s still alive. The Sith are very territorial and don’t exactly look favourably on anyone but them robbing their tombs. Still, that left one question unanswered.

 

“Where’s the kid?” Mako asked for both of us. Vette gave her a gimlet stare: I had an idea. I fired the jets on my jetpack. It wouldn’t rocket me into the air, not without the repulsorlift active, but that wasn’t the point. Heat washed out behind me.

“Argh, no fair, that’s cheating!” a squeaky voice complained amid hacking coughs. Good, if I’m being fair, I’ve screwed up somewhere. I half turned, taking a few steps back, so I could see everyone and had my back to the carved mural. Your master will discard you as soon as you give him a son. You foresaw this years ago

 

Taking a moment to clear his senses, the kid joined our little huddle, pouting. You might have an incomprehensible energy field at your beck and call, but I’ve got tricks no one alive has ever seen.

“You shouldn’t be in here: the Sith banned everyone from going in here because some dead person woke up and is all confused but,” he drawled out the word, as if offering a glimmer of hope, “we could be persuaded to forget you were here, in exchange for the cool, carbonite, freezy spray thing.”

 

I sighed. Really; he was going after the carbonite incapacitation spray again? It was a mistake to use it on the Frabaal girl, no matter what her father later said. Keeping him ignorant of it would’ve saved me so much irritation on the way back to Kaas.

“If being here is banned, how come you’re here,” Mako asked, not even mentioning the grave-robbing. I suppose if anyone’s going to grant permission over taking stuff from a Sith tomb, it’ll be a Sith.

“Uh,” his smug expression vanished, “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted, a shy grin curling his words, “but that carbonite freezy thing is still cool.” I suppose, but we have more pressing matters than chatting about my suit tech.

 

“So, why are you two here, anyway?” Mako asked, echoing my thoughts. You’re an apprentice, just a child, Glasya and you think you can slay me

“We’re here after some device called the Ravager. Apparently, it’s some kind of torture device. Don’t ask why, but Baras needs it,” Vette explained as Roan’s mouth dropped open.

“Ve-tte!” the boy whined, drawing out the vowel, “it’s supposed to be a secret.” If she was bothered by the Sith’s whinging, she didn’t show it.

“Hey, if she’s here, she might help us look for it. Sooner we find it, the sooner we can all get out of here,” she explained to the kid, who stopped whinging and started pouting. Oh trust me, that’s not a secret mission. Secret missions are the ones you can’t tell anyone, even yourself, in case a telepath picks up on it and outs you. Come, the way is open Illyria, forsake your master and take the dark path. It is the only way to power in this man-driven empire

 

“And what makes you think we’d help for free? Fuel and ammo are expensive,” I asked instead. If in doubt, stay practical. Jetting atound the dark temple on a glorified scavenger hunt was a waste of fuel and that assumed there were no possessed archaeologists, guards and Sith wandering about, playing out long dead grudges and rivalries. It also assumed no errant spirits tried to distract or possess you.

“There’s at least six mad Sith in here with lightsabers and who knows what powers. Wouldn’t you rather have someone who can parry them on your side?” Vette reasoned and I hate to admit it, but she’s right. On my own, I’d jet around, and rain tracer missiles down on all the saber swingers, but I couldn’t do that with Mako. She can’t fly, and a Sith would happily hack her in half to get my attention. Mako glanced at me. She’d come to the same conclusion too.

“All right, but we’ve got our own mission in here to finish too,” I answered and then filled them in. I need to find the dark path. They’ll show me true power

 

I gave them the sanitised version, that an imperial commander went insane, ordered a few hundred deaths and fled in here. I’m here on behalf of one of his subordinate, who wants to make sure the monster is dead. All four facts were true, just unconnected. Still, it got what I wanted. Roan and Vette were on side.

 

I know the boy won’t fact check, and Vette had no way to do so before we got out. Even then, it wouldn’t be in character for her to be so prudent, but I couldn’t’ take that risk. Her checking could raise red flags in Intelligence, and then they’d be after me, since they’d correlate who had access to that information and who knew Vette. That’s a population of two. I had until then to ensure she saw things my way, didn’t think to check, or came to an unfortunate accident. I hate intelligence jobs.

 

I looked around my home, the enclave of Sith purity from the tame jungle world outside. It was dank, dark and the fetid stench of moist air and dust filled my nose. No, that can’t be right. I looked again. Majestic carved statues towered overhead, monuments to the dark masters. Other apprentices scurried about, the slaves underfoot yet almost imperceptible. In short, I saw it in its true glory.

 

Beside me was a wretched creature, a simpering girl from the slave caste, if the abomination she called a haircut was any indication. She wasn’t Anaya, my slave. She was someone else’s probably here to spy on me. I’ll send her off to her death soon enough. Who else intruded in my personal space?

 

Opposite her was a blue alien, a female if the slight bulges of its chest were any indication. It had to be a pet or something, though I don’t recognise the species: perhaps a spliced castoff of a between Chiss and Purebloods?

 

Beside the freak was a red-headed child in a coat and mud stained white trousers, one of the groundskeepers’ slaves, or an acolyte serving me perhaps? He looked directly at me, I’ll see him beaten for that, Then I didn’t see the boy at all. A man stood where he’d been. He was unnaturally tall, skeletally thin and had an impossibly wrinkled face with eyes as black as the void.

 

“Get out of her, now,” he snarled, a besti@l growl pounding every syllable of his deep, dry and yet squeaky voice. I’ve heard that voice, part of it anyway but it isn’t possible. It’s an illusion, a lie wrought by someone, my enemy. I reached for my lightsaber, hoping the familiar pain of the spiked grip would break his spell over me, and then the blade would break him. It wasn’t there. Instead, a blaster of all things hung at my hip. My left bracer began to buzz, quivering against my arm. I glanced at it, hesitating to take my eyes off our monstrous lord, and saw muddy armour. Where, by Tulak Hord‘s dark heart, were my robes? Taking my eyes away from him was a mistake.

 

Inky black tendrils seeped out from the underside of his robe, writhing along the floor and stretching towards me. I turned to run, or tried to. My legs wouldn’t budge! What have they done to me? With more effort than I’ve ever needed, even as an acolyte, I forced the dark side to show me any workings coiled around me. I couldn’t see any not of my own make, yet my legs refused to shift. Then the tendril slammed through my chest, and empty blackness took me.

 

Ugh, it feels like someone used my head as a Hutt-ball. Blinking a few hundred times, I let the throbbing fade to manageable levels. Okay, status? Name: Kaina’zul’anon, Great Hunt contestant. Status: throbbing pain in head and neck; cold spot in centre of chest; stiffness in legs. Inventory: Synthweave breastplate, pauldrons and mounted jetpack, worn; twin blaster pistols, in holsters; bracer launcher and on-board microfacturing plant, on arm. Environment? I looked around.

 

I was in a large open room, half slumped against a mural of screaming faces. Off out of range, a trio of archaeologists beat on a Sith, hammering fists and improvised clubs down on the woman, who knelt between them, hands over her head. Heh, I wonder how many people would pay to see that, and how many more she had beaten for whatever petty reason.

 

“Hey, you okay?” someone, Mako, asked up, “what happened?” I went to get up, but my legs wouldn’t move. Ah, yes: I’d rigged the suit to lock up my greaves if I didn’t input the delay code. I casually tapped the diagnostic on my arm, disengaging the locks. The stiffness in my legs disappeared, and I shakily got to my feet.

 

“It’s gone,” the kid growled, and I noticed the steel under his chirping. Was that new or had I just missed it until now? Mako glanced away from me, at him. Worry and grim uncertainty etched lines over their faces. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vette watching the hall, making sure no one capitalised on my momentary weakness.

 

“A spirit got in her head. I sucked the dark side out of it and it broke,” he explained, and then a wry smile curled his face, “which is totally worth a cool carbonite spray thing.” The sudden shift from ultra-serious to his usual cavalier tone was too much. I couldn’t help it. I laughed, and I felt the whole temple recoil at the sound. That felt even better than freedom, relatively speaking.

“When we get out of here, I’ll show you cryo grenades, deal?”

 

 

Edited July 17, 2015 by Feldraeth

[Striges]

More month of Meta: Senses.

 

Week of July 17, 2015

What an Incredible Smell You’ve Discovered!-Sense of smell. In the real world, scent can conjure up some of the most vivid memories and strong associations. It adds a dimension of realism to descriptions. At the same time it’s a very difficult sense to evoke in text. This week’s challenge is to make a scent important in your story, as well as doing your best to help the reader imagine it. It might be a perfume; an aroma specific to a place, thing, or event (pleasant or otherwise); or something with significance to your character. Some species or characters might be more aware of or sensitive to smells than others. Experiment!

 

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 NotLPs:

Thank You - Gratitude is a big thing. People give thanks for gifts, social niceties, kind words, significant favors, for being offered company or for being left alone. Sometimes there are specific holidays or times dedicated to gratitude, and sometimes it just comes up on the way. What is your character grateful for? Do they admit it?

 

First Impressions - Our characters meet tons of people on their journeys. What are their first impressions of each other like? Are they accurate, or did someone put up a front? Write about it!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Got an idea for a prompt? Send me a pm!

[nervousheroA]

For the prompt Thank You, I have the too-long-delayed return of my Jedi Guardian Valerie.

This one takes place about two weeks after Yavin IV. Spoils companions for the JK, and mentions a location from the Inquisitor story as well as a plot element from the Consular story.

 

With 1898 words, here's Pent-Up Stress:

 

 

“Ok, Jedi. Arms up. Let’s have another look.”

 

Doing as requested, she pulled up her undershirt, revealing her heavily scarred midsection. She pulled it up further, to the point where Doc could see the slightly-charred circle just below her breasts.

 

“Wow,” Kira commented from the back of the room. “Now I understand why you wanted me to join you~”

 

“It’s frustrating enough having to have these check-ups in the first place…” Valerie admitted bitterly, trying to lay perfectly still as Doc ran his scans.

 

“Hey! My charms may be potent, but even my looks can’t beat those Jedi tricks of yours…” The green light on his scanner turned off as the computer ran through the data. “Hm… That lightsaber of hers is something else… That stab is still around…”

 

“Has she improved?” Kira inquired, walking closer to the two of them. “I mean, her condition can’t have gotten worse, right?”

 

He shook his head.

 

“No, no, she has improved, for sure. You were right on that, Ms. Jedi, Alderaan’s done wonders for her recovery. It’s just that one damn wound that won’t quit. Kolto’s winning the battle, of course, but it would be faster if we could just put you back in the—“

 

“And I’ve explained why I’m not going back in there,” the Jedi Battlemaster answered him. “There’s too much at stake here.”

 

“If I didn’t know any better, gorgeous, I’d say you were getting claustrophobia or something~”

 

“We could always stuff you in a small container for a few months,” Kira suggested calmly. “Think the cargo bay would do nicely, see how you feel then.”

 

He glared at her silently for several seconds.

 

“Noted.” He returned to his readings. “Any unusual pains since your last check-up?”

 

She closed her eyes thoughtfully.

 

“Unusual? No. I still can’t do my warm-ups like I used to, though.”

 

“I hope you haven’t been forcing it…”

 

“No, Mom taught me some other techniques I could try until I’ve healed more. I’ve been managing.”

 

“Any troubles with your breathing? Shortness of breath?”

 

“I sneezed while tending to the flowers yesterday. Does that count?”

 

Kira chuckled.

 

“I can see the Empire turning pollen into some kind of toxin.” Her smile dropped. “On second thought, I don’t want to think about it…”

 

“Food still going down all right?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Ok, gorgeous. That should be everything. Let me give you your injection for the day, and you should be cleared.”

 

Nodding in agreement, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, blocking out the uncomfortable sensation of the needle in her side. While Doc handled the injection, Kira went to answer the holo. In the other room of the house.

 

“Hello, Master Freiden. How’re things on Tython?”

 

“It’s good to see you again, Kira,” the bearded young man replied. “The reconstruction here is going along rather well, actually. The inside of the Temple is nearly complete, so we may be finally able to send new recruits there again, and they will gain much once Master Vergebung recovers.”

 

On cue, the young Jedi strolled into the holo-room, smoothing out her casual shirt and trying to catch her hair into a ponytail again.

 

“You know me, Master Freiden, I don’t quit that easily.”

 

He shook his head, smiling.

 

“It’s only been two weeks, and you look so much better already. I can hear it.”

 

“We’re staying at her mom’s place on Alderaan,” Kira explained. “Away from the war, and the yard work keeps us all busy.”

 

“I’ll bet.” He hesitated. “Have you heard anything back from the Sergeant?”

 

Valerie frowned.

 

“No, last I heard, she was sorting out possible leads with Theron. Haven’t heard anything since.”

 

“Hm…” He scratched his chin. “All right. I wish we had something concrete to go on…”

 

“We’ll figure it out,” Valerie reassured. “Until then, one thing at a time. I can’t help with anything until I’m truly back on my feet.”

 

“Of course. May the Force be with you, friends.”

 

Cutting the transmission, the young Jedi Master glanced out the window, watching an older woman bent over near a blue patch of flowers.

 

“Kira, see if you can’t get the sandwiches going. I’m going to go talk to Mom for a bit.”

 

“All right. You want your usual?”

 

“Yeah.” Walking out the front door, she leaned against one of the wooden posts, watching the older woman plant another flower in the dark soil. She smirked as she stood up and used her arm as a measuring tool, making sure the new addition was aligned correctly.

 

“I know florists are very particular,” she started, teasing her mother, “but you set new standards for perfectionists everywhere.”

 

The older woman laughed.

 

“And you redefine the word stubborn~” Turning to face Valerie, her aging complexion was nearly lost in the sunlight. “How’d it go this time?”

 

She shrugged.

 

“Fine. Nothing’s wrong; it’s just taking a while.”

 

“Then be happy,” she reminded her daughter. “You’re alive and well, that alone is good enough for an old woman like myself.”

 

“You’re not that old,” she replied, chuckling.

 

“I’m 47 years old,” she growled mockingly, waving her spade like a weapon. “Going on 48. I’m an older crook than you realize, woman.”

 

Valerie buried her face in her hand, trying to stifle her laugher.

 

“Got it.”

 

Her mother pointed down the hill.

 

“By the way, your Sith friend went down that way, said he wanted to see you when you were done.”

 

“Did he say why?”

 

The older woman frowned.

 

“He only ever talks about two things…ever. Revan and the Emperor, or the Sith. Keeps asking me why I abandoned your father on the Doombringer.”

 

Valerie sighed loudly.

 

“I told him not to talk about that… I’ll go talk to him.”

 

“Don’t worry about all that, Valerie. I really don’t mind the questions anymore. It can be good sometimes to relive the past, remember why you chose the path you did.”

 

Valerie couldn’t help but stare at her mother in wonder.

 

“And to think, a little over a year ago, you were going psychotic and trying to plague the entire Council to death…”

 

“Sociopathic,” she reminded her daughter jokingly. “There’s a difference, child.”

 

“Right-o.” Standing up from her resting position on the pole, she made her way down the path from the old house, watching her feet as it bended and twisted, until the path faded away, and she was left standing near a cliff’s edge, overlooking the entire Organa estate and the neighboring ocean. The sun was still high in the sky, but it wasn’t hot where she stood, not so close to fall, it wouldn’t. Looking around, she saw Scourge, in his battle armor, standing at the cliff’s edge, gazing down at the countryside below. Not speaking yet, she walked up beside him and sat on the rocky ground, crossing her legs like a school-girl is taught. She breathed in the clean air for a few moments, waiting for him to speak first.

 

“I can sense the beauty of this,” he started softly. “If I could feel, I’m sure I would find it marvelous.”

 

“I would go here with my grandparents when I was little,” she agreed. “I liked to play with the grass and see how far I could make it fly in the wind.”

 

He mimicked her position, sitting down awkwardly on the rocky ground.

 

“How far could you get it?”

 

She shook her head.

 

“I could never tell. I would pretend, and grandma would always try to cheat and say she won.” She chuckled. “She always cheated, and yet I never really cared. I was just having fun.” She sighed, letting her body fall slowly to the ground, letting the warm rocks heat her back, gazing up at the bright, puffy clouds. “Mom said you wanted to talk?”

 

He sat silently for a while, figuring out exactly how to phrase his question.

 

“I heard you and T-7 were the only ones who refused to admit I could die,” she said softly. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting that level of faith from you.”

 

“You are the one from my vision,” he snapped. “I could never believe otherwise. The Force never lies.”

 

“I just proved the Force does not reveal everything about the future,” she replied. “Being around the Jedi so long, I’m sure you’ve heard this before from the others. So I’ll ask again. Where did that faith come from?”

 

He sighed.

 

“I will admit, just this once, that I had a…faith…that you would survive. If for no other reason, Kira is terrible at managing a starship.”

 

“True,” she chuckled. “Besides, I’m sure she was glad I came back.”

 

“You have no idea.”

 

She caught something odd in his tone.

 

“What do you mean?” she asked, shifting her position on the rocks.

 

“When you…left…she made regular visits to your mother and Satele on Tython, almost daily. She wasn’t taking the loss very well.”

 

“I don’t blame her…”

 

“We were all worried, of course, but I could sense Kira’s distress. While most of us resumed our lives within a week, she…changed.”

 

Her heart dropped.

 

“I truly noticed it for the first time while she was on Korriban with the others,” he continued. “She was blaming the Sith there for your fate, and we all felt it. It was even worse on Manaan, when she was practically forced to work with the Wrath and the other Imperials.”

 

She stood up abruptly, flipping a small stone in her hands. Scourge sat there, unmoving, studying her. Gathering her energy, she chucked the stone off the cliff violently.

 

“Argh!” she cried, watching the stone sail over the edge, eventually disappearing under the tree canopy below.

 

“Why the hell do I have to be the lifeline for everyone else? Why can’t I just be a normal Jedi and just live? Can no one survive without me being there 24-7?”

 

Not bothering to answer her questions, he debated. After a minute, he rose and walked next to her. Reaching down, he picked up a similar-sized stone, and lightly tossed it off the cliff, the two of them watching it tumble onto the rocky edge below.

 

“Mine went farther,” he said after a while. “It hit that tower you can see in the distance. The one that looks like a needle.”

 

She followed his finger, then looked down at the cliff, and sure enough, Scourge saw the small, warm smile return. Her eyes closed, and it was little wonder to him now why she was so well liked no matter where she went. Even to his dulled senses, her radiance, no matter how Jedi-ish, was extraordinary.

 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I needed that.”

 

“I have never met a Jedi,” he explained simply, “who could completely banish frustration. Even Sith need some kind of outlet to keep themselves in check.”

 

“I have my methods,” she agreed. “I’ve just been having trouble…”

 

“Indeed, you have felt…raw…the past two weeks.”

 

She sighed.

 

“I feel it, too, but I’m recovering. Like my physical injuries, it’s been slow, but I can feel the improvement. It’s been nice, not having to fight for a while.”

 

“Valerie! The sandwiches are ready! You two coming?”

 

She turned towards the figure of Kira farther up the hill.

 

“We’re coming! Give us a sec!” She turned to Scourge. “Thank you again. It’s been fun.”

 

“It has been amusing,” he agreed. “I never knew tending to plants could be so exhausting.”

 

 

Author's Notes:

 

 

I seem to have an annoying knack of mentioning serious injuries to my characters without ever explaining them. I will eventually, but...it's to much fun hanging in the mystery of it all. :D:D

 

[Diviciacus]

Commentarii:

 

 

@Feldraeth: A Steward of Ziost. What species is that first woman mentioned? The only species I can think of which can see infrared is Drow. I feel like this is not what she is. Also, I think I understand what's going on, and it gives me a sad. ;_;

 

You did indeed mention the pharmacological training of your BH in the commentary from A Steward of Ziost.

 

The Dark Temple: Very interesting that, unlike the player characters in-game who are inexplicably remain unpossessed, your BH is. I enjoyed that. And I enjoyed Roan's reaction to the carbonite emitter, because I would do that too.

 

Also, the names of ancient Sith, I recognize some of them. Illyria is a region of Greece (and I can't remember if she was a demon or what she was in the spinoff show of Buffy), Glasya is Lord of the Sixth Circle of Hell from D&D (and was plagiarized as a raid boss in Rift). Orphaen rings no bells, though.

 

@nervousheroA: Pent-up Stress. Excellent story, I rather enjoyed it. Certainly leaves me with more questions than answers, though!

 

 

 

Title: Unconcionable

Prompt: What an Incredible Smell You've Discovered! (Bonus points for spoofing the Rishi datacron puzzle)

Characters: Authenta

Chronology: Years before Secrets Long Forgotten

Spoilers: General Korriban Sith Warrior, a tiny bit maybe of Vette backstory?

Words: 1755

 

Story time!

 

 

Vermillion light flickered across the cracked paving stones and crumbling frescoes deep in the tomb of Naga Sadow. Far beyond the reach of baleful Horuset, Authenta swept her ancient but serviceable Sith warblade in front of her, casting broken and wretched shadows along the walls.

 

During the nearly four decades since the Empire returned to the galaxy at large, thousands of acolytes had perished here; murder, suicide, hunger, thirst. Death takes for herself a heavy toll beneath the sands of Korriban. And it showed: this deep in the tomb, bones littered the corners and edges where walls met the floor, most disarticulated, others strung together by brittle, dried, dark-brown sinews. Many had disconcerting marks, as though they had been gnawed upon.

 

Very few acolytes made it alive this far down, so thankfully the sights of half-rotted corpses, faces and abdomens chewed away by carrion scavengers had mostly abated. But the odor? Never. Decay clung to her ashen synthweave armor, permeating her clothing, skin, and mind. Authenta feared she'd never be rid of the sickening rot that skulked through Sadow's tomb, as though it, too, sought victims. The mere remembrance of the putrid stench turned her stomach, and being forced to step around and over deteriorating bodies... it took nearly all her willpower to refrain from vomiting.

 

Her companion fared much worse. The would-be tomb robber's vitality had clearly been impaired by her incarceration; or perhaps Twi'leks were naturally of weak constitution. Authenta did not know.

 

The sickly sweet pungency of vomit accompanied a fresh round of gagging from Vette. She'd mostly stayed behind the Sith, seemingly content to allow the heavier armored figure the lead. For a skittish, captured graverobber on Korriban, she was curiously trustworthy; not once had Vette attempted to murder Authenta with the blaster she'd been given, or even simply slip into the shadows and escape.

 

Turning to the source of the commotion, she saw Vette bent over, both arms braced against the wall to keep herself from collapsing. Crossing the gap in one stride, she lightly rubbed the Twi'lek's back with one hand until she stopped coughing.

 

"Why are...? As if you care!"

 

Vette's words elicited a small sigh from the Sith. "I do. Outside, appearances must be kept; I cannot wear the mask of anything but your absolute master. But there is no more honor in beating a defenseless slave than there is in murdering an unarmed opponent.

 

Regardless, loyalty is earned through respect and not fear. And a responsible warlord dines and sleeps with her troops."

 

Vette wiped her mouth off on her grey tunic, her pallor an unhealthy greenish yellow in contrast to her usual cerulean. "Eww, you'd sleep with a whole army? Eww!"

 

The Sith arched a black eyebrow, and recognizing the sarcasm, decided to indulge in her companion's ruse. "Not all at once. Logistical nightmare, you see.

 

But we both know that's not what I meant, don't we. I will provide you a clean tunic once we are finished here. Are you well enough to continue?"

 

"I - yeah. We're almost there. Let's just hurry up and get out of this creepy place.

...Say, have you been in here before?"

 

"I have basked in the shadow of mighty Naga Sadow's tomb many times, but I have never been inside before today. Why?"

 

Vette looked back the way they came. "There's a lot more bodies this time."

 

Holding her warblade high to cast the dim vermillion light down the hallway, Authenta narrowed her aureate eyes.

 

"Vemrin."

 

"That some kind of Sithy swearing?"

 

* * *

 

The ceiling rose sharply from the hallway into a vault lined with titanic monolithic statuary, many cracked and broken with age, their carved stone sabers forever deactivated. Torches burning Dark Side energy in violet eternal flame cast a dancing, treacherous light from their sconces between the statues.

 

The air was different here. Less decomposition at long last, but no less fetid. Sand and dust mingled with mildew. Authenta marched into the chamber attempting not to breathe too deeply lest she inhale some ancient disease, her head held high. Vette tarried near the entrance, looking up at the ceiling.

 

"Hey, this is it. The secret entrance to the hidden cavern is in here. Just... let me get my bearings."

 

The prospective apprentice glanced back at her companion, before sensing something cloaked in the darkness behind a statue between herself and the sole exit.

 

Taking a calculated risk, Authenta deactivated her warblade, sliding it into the scabbard across her back and looked ahead, examining the crumbling statues and feigning ignorance. She closed her eyes, seeing in her mind the chamber and its distances and ticking off the seconds. At four, she spun to one side, unsheathing her warblade and lashing out with a straight kick at shoulder height with the practised ease borne of twenty years of sparring.

 

She could feel a sickening crunch of bone through the sole of her boot, telling her she connected with her mark. A cry of pain filled the air and the metallic tang of blood filled her nostrils as her aggressor was flipped over with the force of her kick.

 

To his credit, he tucked one arm in and turned the knockdown into a roll, coming up on one knee. With blood streaming from his shattered nose, he shook his head and stood.

 

"Take your time, slave. Just have the entrance uncovered by the time I finish killing your new master."

 

Authenta sighed in mild annoyance. "Can't say I'm surprised to see you, Vemrin. You're remarkably predictable."

 

"You broke my nose, whore!"

 

"Please. You still have two hundred more bones that are undamaged."

 

"My passions run deeper than yours! I am the true essence of what it is to be Sith! My legacy has suffered long enough. After today, you will be forgotten. It ends here and now!"

 

The two acolytes stalked around each other in the manner of feral beasts, warblades readied. Authenta studied her opponent, lessons and the voice of her childhood combat trainer in the back of her mind.

 

...If you know your enemy, and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles...

 

She languidly parried a handful of feints from Vemrin. His style was flashy, ornate. Designed to inspire doubt and fear in untrained or undisciplined acolytes. There is no place in war for pretension, only results. He probably couldn't handle multiple opponents, if they were even half competent. Where is Vette?

 

As if on cue, a ruddy blaster shot streaked out of the shadows, leaving a trail of ozone behind it. Vemrin parried the bolt easily, but it put his warblade out of position to defend against Authenta. All rage and no discipline. Typical.

 

She snarled, slamming her hand outward, smashing a wave of Force into his chest and throwing him off his feet across the chamber. Leaping after him, holding her warblade in a reverse grip with both hands, Authenta collided with Vemrin in midair.

 

Her warblade, combining her mass and inertia with her focused ire, ploughed through his thin black armor, screeching in protest as its vibromotor overloaded and causing the scent of burnt wiring to trail behind the combatants. Vemrin screamed to match as the shattered end of her warblade erupted from his back, spraying shards of metal against the flagstones. The impact force of hitting the rock floor of the tomb snapped Authenta's warblade hilt off in her hands and momentum threw her past Vemrin.

 

Somersaulting out of the roll to her feet, she whirled, ready to defend herself to the death with the broken handle end, but it was unnecessary. What was left of her warblade's tang sparked feebly, protruding from a grisly, smoking laceration in Vemrin's chest. His eyes were glazed open and his warblade was dark and silent, laying where it had rolled limply from his hand. The acolyte was dead; there could be no argument.

 

Authenta collapsed to her knees, ashamed at her own brutality, at her lack of discipline. She'd been forced to kill dozens of times over the past year at the academy, but never with such incoherent rage. Always calm, disciplined, and detached, just as her father had always instructed her.

 

Then the stench hit her. The acrid fetor of burnt meat mixed with ozone from the overloaded vibromotor and a hot metallic malodor of boiling blood. The fetid and noisome air in the tomb at last overpowered her will, and Authenta doubled over, voiding the contents of her stomach. She dug her nails into a statue's leg to give herself a semblance of stability, retching uncontrollably.

 

As her stomach began to quiet down, the realization dawned that she hadn't heard or seen her companion since she fired at Vemrin. "Vette? Vette! Do you live?"

 

"No, I died. Just like I said I would. Told you!" The sarcastic tone of Vette's voice couldn't hide the obvious pain she was in.

 

"That guy bounced my shot back at me! I didn't know that was a thing! I dodged... kind of, but got hit in the arm and it hurts and I can't feel my hand."

 

Authenta stood shakily, scanning the chamber. Her blue-skinned companion was sitting on the floor with her back against a broken statue base, cradling her left arm, one lekku draped over her shoulder. "The rucksack I asked you to carry: where is it? There's a medkit and kolto packs in it."

 

"I ditched it when that guy attacked you. It's by... the door."

 

She stepped warily around the swelling pool of dark blood from Vemrin's body. "Doesn't this induce vomiting for you?"

 

"Murder I can handle when it's... fresh. I've seen a lot of bad things as a slave, you know. It's the... ripe ones I can't."

 

Vette turned her head, looking in Authenta's direction, the soft crunching of pebbles beneather her boots giving the Twi'lek a location to focus on. "You... uhh... wow, gross. You really did a number on that guy."

 

"I'm not proud of it." Authenta glanced despairingly at her murderous handiwork. "I may have hated Vemrin since the day I stepped off the shuttle from Ziost, but he was strong and would have been Sith. He deserved a better death than this.

 

After I treat your wound, you will help me bury him here."

 

 

 

Author's notes:

 

 

I don't actually have any this time for some reason. But I made you click on the spoiler tag anyway

 

No, that's a lie. I'm sorry this isn't the continuation of my Consular's story, but I was hoping for a more active thread before posting part two. Speaking of which, the last couple of weeks in the thread... does this happen a lot, or is the thread dying? Please don't die, is too cool.

 

Also, in the interests of disclosure, I quoted a line from The Art of War in there.

 

 

Edited July 24, 2015 by Diviciacus

[Bultitudes_Loke]

Commentarii:

 

 

...

 

Also, the names of ancient Sith, I recognize some of them. Illyria is a region of Greece (and I can't remember if she was a demon or what she was in the spinoff show of Buffy), Glasya is Lord of the Sixth Circle of Hell from D&D (and was plagiarized as a raid boss in Rift). Orphaen rings no bells, though.

...

 

 

 

I suspect a corruption of Orpheus, who of course quested into the Underworld to save Eurydice...

[alaurin]

Hi all!! I just got back from a 2 week vacation last night and while I could access this thread with my phone, our signals weren't the greatest in northern Michigan. So a couple of things before I post a story I wrote back during Valentines for Tumblr. 1- I'm sorry I don't have any comments at this time since I'm so behind.....and 2- Pretty please, if you need something fixed on the Index can you send me a PM? Someone needed something fixed while I was away on vacation and now I'm having a hard time finding the comment.....if that's you, can you let me know in a PM and I'll take care of it when I update the Index later.

 

Okay, now have some warm fuzzies with Mallay and Aric. This was originally posted on my Tumblr 2/13/2015 and was the most popular of those romantic drabbles I wrote that weekend.

 

Title: Mission Accomplished

Prompt: Love Letters and Secret Valentines, Hidden Talents

Character: Mallayse Lauren-Trooper

Setting: Coruscant, after the class stories

Spoilers: Spoilers for a couple of Coruscant planetary missions and a brief mention of Trooper Act 2 finale

 

**Warning: Definitely some suggestive content in this one, nothing graphic though.

 

The petite Human let out sigh of exasperation as she reread the paragraph again, her mind unable to focus on the words of the romance novel. Instead, she kept wondering how her XO was faring in Black Sun territory. She hated not being with them, but wouldn’t be cleared for combat for at least another week.

 

“Stupid,” she grumbled, still angry at herself for not being properly prepared.

 

Another turf war had broken out in the lower levels and Corescant’s security force was having trouble subduing it. They requested military backup and since Havoc was on planet at the time, General Garza sent them in to assist. They’d gained a lot of ground that first day, retaking the merchant concourse which was a key location for the Black Sun’s leadership and were in the process of securing the small warehouse the gang had been using as a headquarters when Mallay set off an unseen trigger in the back room while her and Elara were downloading files, having missed the advanced tech on her initial scan. They raced out of the room, Mallay hitting the switch on her generator to shield herself and shoved Elara out the door as the warehouse blew.

 

The blast threw the women clear of the burning building, but a large beam fell from the doorway and landed on them. Elara suffered a concussion and cracked a couple of ribs while Mallay’s shoulder was dislocated again and her leg had been broken when the beam fell on it. It had been a few days since her and Elara got out of the tanks, but she was still favoring her right leg a little.

 

So instead of leading her squad back into Black Sun territory to finish the job, she was sitting in the suite alone while her second in command took charge. Elara was taking advantage of her downtime by attending a medical seminar at the Academy. Mallay thought about going, but knew she’d be too distracted to get anything from it.

 

Knowing she needed to take her mind off of things, Mallay got up and went into the kitchen since hitting the gym was out of the question for the next couple of weeks. She smiled as she pondered the contents of the conservator, seeing everything she needed to make one of Aric’s favorite meals and decided a romantic dinner would be the perfect pick me up. It might even help convince her stubborn husband that despite not being combat ready, she was fit for some forms of physical activity. She loved him dearly, but was getting a little frustrated with him thinking she was fragile. She couldn’t really blame him though, knowing how she’d felt when he was floating in the kolto tank after the Gauntlet.

 

Her lips twitched with a smile as she thought of one way to make him change his mind and as soon as she had everything in the oven, she headed back to their bedroom. Thankful they qualified for married housing in the Military complex and had a separate suite from the rest of the squad, she opened the closet and pulled out the white garment bag that contained her sexy lingerie. She mulled over her choices, wishing she’d had time to go shopping for something new when a glint at the bottom caught her eye. Then a wicked idea came to her as she pulled out the skimpy dancer costume, having forgotten she had it. He’d admitted a while ago how much he loved seeing her dancing in it that first day on Coruscant. Hoping the spirited Nautolan was safe and happy wherever she was, Mallay began to remove her comfortable yoga pants and tank top.

 

A little while later, Mallay was pleased with her reflection. Her long thick auburn tresses tumbled wildly down to her waist and the outfit still fit perfectly. She’d put on some makeup, outlining her eyes with a kohl pencil and choosing shades of shadow and lip gloss that complimented the red and gold costume.

 

“Oh yeah,” she smiled at her reflection, “This’ll get his attention.”

 

Then she went into the living room where she had her holocamera set up, turned on the music player, and hopped up on the coffee table. Her weak leg kept her from doing anything too elaborate, but she managed plenty of sensual, provocative movements that kept up with the beat of the very suggestive song she’d chosen. Once the song ended, she stepped off the table and turned the camera off, then downloaded the video to her datapad. She played it back, satisfied that it would get her point across, then typed out a quick message to Aric and attached the video. She hesitated, biting her lip as she began to have second thoughts, but before she could chicken out, she hit the send button.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Hands where I can see ‘em!” the tawny Cathar ordered, keeping his assault cannon trained on the gang members as they filed out of building, “One wrong move and this droid is gonna make you deeply regret it.”

 

“Prisoner transport’s on its way, boss,” Tanno’s gravelly voice called out and Aric turned towards the approaching Weequay.

 

“Good,” Aric nodded as Yuun started cuffing the men, “This should be the last of their leadership for now.”

 

“You can bet they’ll be back though,” Tanno insisted.

 

“I’m sure they will,” Aric agreed lowering his voice as some of their backup passed by and began hauling the secured prisoners over to where the shuttle would be landing, “But maybe next time Corescant Security can get a handle on them before it gets this bad, but if not then…..” he trailed off as muffled beeping caught his attention.

 

“Pretty sure that’s you,” Tanno shrugged, then chuckled as his XO dug the datapad out of his pack, “Probably the other boss checking up on us.”

 

“Yeah,” Aric confirmed as he spotted the message from his mate, who was notorious for being a control freak. He sighed as he opened it, “It’s her and….what the kriff…..” Then those bright green eyes widened and he clutched the datapad to his chest as his curious squad mate leaned over to peek.

 

“Is that music playing?” Tanno asked, a knowing grin on his face as he watched his XO fumbling with the datapad as he tried to stop the video, “What’d she send you?”

 

“Never mind,” Aric growled as he hit the power button, “Just go help Yuun!”

 

Tanno only laughed harder as he clapped the Cathar on the back before walking off to assist the Gand. Then he paused, looking back in time to see the frustrated Captain running his hands over his head as he took several deep breaths, “I think we got this under control here boss……no reason for you to stick around when you’re going to be too…..distracted.”

 

Aric didn’t hesitate, taking off at a run towards the nearest taxi station as the transport shuttle landed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Back in her yoga pants and tank top, Mallay was in the kitchen chopping vegetables when she heard the door to the suite open. She glanced at the chrono just as her husband entered the kitchen and strode towards her.

 

“You’re a little early…….is everything alright? Did something….” Mallay was cut off as Aric’s mouth captured hers in a searing kiss.

 

“I’m early because I just double-timed it through Black Sun territory after getting one really hot message from my mate,” he murmured against her lips before trailing his mouth down her neck, “Then I paid a taxi double fare to get me out of that sector in record time and ran across the Senate Plaza to get here. After going a week without touching you and seeing that video…….do you have any idea what that did to me?!”

 

“I’m hoping it convinced you that I feel fine and am very interested in having you touch me,” Mallay replied, a pleasured sigh escaping her as those fangs teased her ear.

 

“Mission accomplished, sir,” Aric whispered hotly as he scooped her up and carried her back to their bedroom.

 

“But dinner….” Mallay protested weakly.

 

“Let it burn,” Aric chuckled, that sexy sound sending a flood of warmth down her belly as he lowered her onto the bed, “Because I’m hungry for something other than food right now.”

 

[toatokua]

Title: Confessions of a Sith Lord

Prompt: Confessions

Characters: Helksan (my Chiss Scoundrel), and Corso Riggs, plus Smuggler Companions.

Possible spoilers: Smuggler Companions

It’s a bit (more than a bit) long, don’t know how many words. Incoming wall of text. Hope you all like it.

Hopefully you can provide helpful (read: much needed) feedback.

 

 

On the surface of Corellia, the Captain Helksan, and his first mate: Corso Riggs, had encountered an old “friend” of the captain’s. A lady pureblood sith in crimson robes who recognized the captain amidst the conflict, followed them to a secluded alley where the two men had stopped for a break, exhausted from the fighting. Upon confirming with her eyes, she ran up to Helksan, and hugged him, producing joy in excited words “My love! It’s really you, everyone had told me you had died, that you weren’t coming back to me! I can’t believe it!”

Corso was unsurprisingly wary and confused, but when he saw the lightsabers hanging from her belt, he immediately stood up and leveled his blaster, Torchy at the woman.

 

Helksan was shocked, and scared. Seeing his old wife from the empire was going to dredge up secrets that even Risha would never have found, and it would probably cost the trust of his friends. He quickly shoved the woman away, and leveled his blaster pistol at her as well.

 

“Captain, how do you know this sith, she is definitely acting too familiar to just be a crazy sith!?”

 

The sith woman looked hurt after being pushed away by her once-thought dead husband, and a little angry at him for leveling a weapon at her. “What’s wrong my love, i thought you would be happy to see me after what, 20 years? Also, why are you leveling a weapon at me, what happened to never using a weapon? You were always were a quickdraw with lightning, like that one time you tried to cook a nerf-steak with it. Remember that love?”

Corso’s eyes narrowed, anxiety rising, his voice filling with venom “What is she talking about, tell me that she isn’t telling the truth, why would you be a Sith?!

 

Helksan gulped, his voice laced with panic “Believe me, i’d like to say she was lying corso, my friend. But she isn’t, 20 years ago, i was married to her in the empire. 20 years ago, i was a dark lord of the sith.” Helksan’s red eyes started to well up with tears, with the liquid tracing the scars on his face. “I’m sorry Corso, but I… I’m not a simple refugee from imperial space, i was a monster, please forgive me Corso!”

 

The Sith looked pissed at Helksan’s Confession, screaming in rage she drew her lightsabers, and leapt at Corso, impaling him with the red blades. Helksan roared with fear and anguish, shooting the sith straight in the head with his blaster pistol. She crumpled to the ground, dead.

 

Before he could help his best friend, a voice he hadn’t heard in 5 years came to the surface of his mind. ”So, our little sithy secret is out in the open huh, you think he’d allow us to live after hearing this. That we number among the monsters that destroyed his sad little family. No, what we need to do is end his pathetic existence before he can turn the rest of our “friends” against us. You don’t even have to do anything, you just have to walk away, say he died heroically defending an orphanage or something, the more goody two-shoes it sounds, the more believable. Hell, why just kill ‘em all, what do we actually care about anyways?

 

No, i will not, what would Sera think of me if i did that, what would our- no, my daughter think. He’s my best friend, I will save him. I have to, i owe him an explanation, i owe them all an explanation, how could i face my daughter and finally tell her the truth if i turned my back on my friends. I will never be you again. I WILL NEVER BE YOU!!! The voice sunk back to its resting place deep in his mind, but Helksan knew it wasn’t gone.

 

Helksan hurried to his friends side, not caring if he wasted kolto on one person when a lot of other people could use it more. After stabilizing Corso, he picked him up and carried him to an open strip of land and signaled the Salaminia to pick him up. He deposited Corso in the kolto tank, and stayed by his friend’s side for 10 days, waiting for him to heal, hoping, wishing for him to be okay.

 

After 10 days of Helksan barely sleeping, eating or drinking, Corso was finally ready to be let out of the tank. Once Corso had recovered his ability to speak after a few minutes, he was about to say something, but Helksan cut him off, telling him to gather in the common area of the ship with the others. After Corso left, Helksan stopped by the kitchen and poured himself a large shot of alcohol, and downed it in one gulp. He headed to the common area.

 

Risha, Akaavi, Bowdaar, Gus, and Corso were all sitting on the surprisingly spacious couch, waiting for Helksan. He sat down on the chair facing the couch. He began speaking, in a sad, somewhat quiet and reserved voice. “I owe all of you an explanation to who i really am, especially Corso, i am going to say this as quickly, and as efficiently as possible. I was a sith lord." The crew’s eyes, except for Corso’s, flashed with fear. “I became a sith after the ascendancy discovered i had killed my parents with the force, it was an accident, but I reveled in the madness, well half of me anyways, it turns out i had developed dissociative identity disorder from that day. I was split in two, the part you see before you today, and the sith.” Tears started forming in his red eyes. “I was cruel, emotionless, and manipulative, the woman i took as a wife was all in a bid for more power. I was unstoppable, until one day, when my apprentice tried to kill me, it brought back the moment when i had killed my parents, and i was finally able to surface. I ran, i boarded a shuttle to Nar Shaddaa, and went into republic space, to a colony where i could stay away from the worst of conflicts. A year after my arrival on the colony, i met the girl of my dreams, and we quickly fell in love. We were happily together for 15 years, even having a child together, she was force sensitive, like me, and was also chiss, eventually, we had to send her to the jedi, it was two years later, that the love of my life was killed by imperials, right in my house. The sith surfaced again as i held her in my arms, and he slaughtered the bastards who killed her. I even tried to kill myself, but only succeeded in burning out my force connection I was so ashamed, i ran. I took only my mask, and one of the bastard’s pistol’s.” He motioned to his pistol as he said this. “I went to Coruscant and learned medicine, turns out i was good at it, and so i dedicated my life to healing people. Eventually i ran out of funds, so i took up smuggling medical supplies to hospitals for pretty poor pay, until i saved up enough money to buy this ship. My first job offer with the ship was to take blasters to Ord Mantell, and i needed the funds. From there, you know the rest.”

 

The crew looked dumbfounded, but Corso smiled, and smirked. His brown eyes surprisingly cheerful after the somber tale“Really Captain, that’s your big secret, that you were a Sith, but now you’ve dedicated your life to helping people, even without the force. It sounds like you could teach the jedi a little bit about helping people. Captain, i’ll stay with you to the end.”

 

 

 

Authors Note:

 

Sorry for the length, and i hope i did a decent job portraying Corso, it’s my first attempt at using dialogue for one of the game’s companion’s. Also i hope the dialogueas a whole isn't too choppy (or whatever adjective fits correctly)

 

 

Second Author’s Note:

 

In terms of my headcannon, Helksan was never a joking, or happy type, of which the game doesn’t have for the smuggler unless you feel like being aggressive and/or violent. So he’s a bit different.

 

 

Third Author's Note:

 

I apparently have a hard time writing a story about Helksan that doesn't make him an even more somber character, but this has a happy ending, so yay, positive thoughts!

 

Edited July 21, 2015 by toatokua
Slight errors in what was written

[Rhyys]

I've never posted to this thread before, so here goes. Apparently I was inspired by an older prompt. I didn't realize that until I went back looking for it again. Sigh.

 

Title: Kept in Memory

Prompt: Weapons of Choice (also works for Shopapolooza)

Character: Zane Starwarrior, trooper

Setting: Carrick Station

Spoilers: There is a brief mention of Ziost and Ord Mantell.

 

 

My first character is Major Zane Starwarrior. He’s also my first trooper. He still carries his A-405 Wraith Projector, one of the first mod-able blaster cannons he acquired. It has a very clean look that I love. I’ve had people comment that I need to upgrade his weapon to a bigger, fancier cannon. I always tell them the same thing, no thanks.

 

I’m well aware that when a trooper is first created they receive a blaster rifle. Later, after picking a specialty they receive a blaster cannon. I’m taking a little creative license. This fits so much better! Let me know what you think.

What follows is Zane’s reasoning for keeping his blaster cannon…

 

Kept in Memory

 

We had just returned to the Republic Fleet after completing the mission on Ziost. The operation had been screwed from the beginning and ended in disaster for a lot of people. Watching the wave of death sweep across the planet and hearing the soldiers screams for help on the comms, knowing there was nothing we could do to save them from the death literally sweeping their way was hard, even painful. It also brought to the surface, memories of other comrade-in-arms lost in this long drawn out war with the Empire.

 

“What was that about?” Aric asked, as we sat back in the cantina on Carrick station with a drink.

 

“Nothing,” I reply, running my hands through my hair, “Weapons vendor did not know when to leave well enough alone.”

 

We had been walking along the promenade just browsing at the new items in the shops, when one particularly persistent Rodian vendor approached me.

 

“You should really consider upgrading that assault cannon Major,” said the vendor, eyeing the cannon strapped to my back.

 

“No thanks,” I said, “I’m good,” as I started walking away.

 

Stepping in front of me, “We’ve got the latest Tri Tech Cannon,” he started. I tried to step around him and he cut me off again, continuing, “It’s got all the latest bells and whistles.”

 

I’d had enough. Using my much larger and bulkier frame, I leaned over the much smaller Rodian, invading his personal space, “What don’t you understand about no?” I asked. “Leave it.”

 

The vendor drew back in alarm. Raising his arms in defense, he stepped away, cowering. “No offense Major. No offense.”

 

I started to walk away but stopped and shouted back to my XO, who was still looking at some of the weaponry, “I’m out of here. I’ll see you in the cantina.”

 

“I’ll be there in ten, sir,” he answered, as he handed a blaster back to a human behind the counter.

 

Nodding I walked out and didn’t look back. I made my way straight to the cantina and ordered an ale. When the bartender sat it down in front of me, I picked it up and went to find a table in a dark corner and wait for the Cathar to join me.

 

With a grin, Aric said, “I saw what happened. I think he almost wet himself when you loomed over him.”

 

“I don’t ‘loom’,” I countered, leaning back in my seat.

 

“Oh yeah…you do!”

 

I’ll admit I am a large man. I’m 6’5” (1.98m) and after years of hefting a blaster cannon I’m solid muscle. My size is an asset in the military and on the battle field but sometimes I forget just how much my size, particularly in armor, can intimidate a civilian.

 

“Well, I didn’t mean too,” I try instead and then taking a swallow from my mug.

 

“Yeah you did sir,” Aric was nearly laughing at me now.

 

We’ve come a long way from the angry, brooding Cathar on Ord Mantell that just had his career torpedoed out from under him. Now he’s a Captain, my executive officer, the person I trust most to have my back and my best friend.

 

“What did he do to you?” my XO asked.

 

“He wanted to sell me a new blaster cannon.”

 

“That one is getting old,” Aric said. “There’s new and better tech out all the time.”

 

“I keep it up-to-date with all the newest and best mods. You know that,” I argue.

 

“You do,” he allowed, leaning back in his chair as he thought about it. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you with a different one.”

 

“You haven’t,” I admit, taking another fortifying sip. I knew where this conversation was heading. “I had it before I joined Havoc squad.”

 

“What’s the story?” he asks.

 

“It’s special to me,” I reply softly. A sad, haunted look came over my face. A look all soldiers that have seen bloody combat sometimes wear.

 

Knowing the look and troubled by his own memories, Aric starts to wave me off, “You don’t have to sir. Just let it be.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” I respond, “just give me a sec.” I take another gulp of ale and raise the empty mug, indicating for the bartender to bring me another. When he sets it in front of me, I chug some back, set the glass down and wipe my mouth.

 

“Rhen and I went through Academy training together,” I started. “We were best buddies from the start, always together, always had the other’s back. After we graduated we were even assigned to the same squad.”

Aric sat silently, waiting for me to continue.

 

“We saw action almost immediately,” I said, “On worlds like Dakk, Samaria and Balanor.”

 

“I’ve heard of Balanor,” my squad mate said, “Tropical planet. Rumor is those battles were hell.”

 

“You heard right,” I allowed. I couldn’t help remembering the snipers that loved to hide in the huge moss covered trees and pick us off when we were on patrol or the fracking bugs that got into everything, including our rations. Not to mention the temperatures so hot and humid during the day it felt like we’d boil in our armor.

 

“We always had each’s others backs, only thing that saved our asses.”

 

Curious, Aric asked, “Where’s Rhen now?”

 

“Dead,” I answer; my tone flat, my eyes distant.

 

“I’m sorry sir,” my XO said.

 

I snap back and wave off the apology, “Don’t worry about it you didn’t know.”

 

We both sit quietly for a few minutes, lost in our own memories and of buddies lost in this protracted war. We had each outlived numerous comrades, seen things and done things that we sometimes rather not think about, let alone talk about. War leaves its mark on the survivors too.

 

I waved off a waitress that asked if we were ready for refills on our drinks, as Aric finally asked, “Where did it happen?”

 

“At the Battle on Altyr,” I replied, motioning to the scar on my right eye. It ran from just above my right eyebrow, across my eye and came to an end just below my eye on the right cheekbone, “Same time I got this.”

 

Before he asked, I explained how I got the scar, “Let an Imperial scum get to close to my face with a vibroblade.”

 

“Doesn’t sound like you,” my XO said with a smile, “You usually gun them down before they get that close!”

 

I smirk, he was right of course! As a rule, I don’t let them get that close. The cannon worked better when you kept your targets further away from you. I explain, "During the battle for Altyr, we were getting overrun and a group of soldiers were down and cut off."

 

“The orders came to fall back,” I tell him and look away for a second. The memories of that day were still something I didn't care to think about. "I wasn't leaving them behind to die!” and take a swallow of ale to dull the pain of the memories.

 

“Now that sounds like you.” My XO is familiar with my tendency to ignore orders I don’t agree with.

 

“Rhen and I grabbed a couple of our squad mates and led a charge to rescue the men. The fighting was fierce but we managed to get there. I stood guard as the down soldiers were evac’d out, Rhen at my back as always.” I stopped for a minute, lost in the blood of memories overwhelming me.

 

The Cathar prompted, “What happened next, sir?”

 

I fiddled with the mug on the table, hands unable to sit still. “Just as we were pulling out ourselves the Imperials charged. We were nearly surrounded and almost overwhelmed.” My left leg started jiggling under the table and I continued pushing the mug around. “Imperials mounted a charge. Took out the first with my blaster cannon but the second one got a couple shots off first, before I blasted him.” I absentmindedly started rubbing my chest. “That gave the last two Imperials time to get close. The shorter one fired off a couple of shots with his blaster,” I stopped speaking, my shoulder aching.

 

‘Gods, when did it start hurting again,’ I think, as I rub it, Aric watching my every move.

 

“After I knocked the gun away and took care of him, the taller guy was on me with the vibroblade. Sliced me up good before I could take care of him,” I said, touching my eye and the scar running across it.

 

“Where was Rhen during all this?”

 

My breath was knocked out of me as the question caused a tidal wave of emotion to hit me. I took a few shuddering breaths, trying to regain control. “Never saw the pair behind me,” I managed to get past my closed throat. Closing my eyes, I wage war over my rampaging emotions. Finally I manage to continue, “Rhen stepped between them and me. He got them, killed them but it wasn’t enough.” I clench my fists on the table, “He took the blows meant for me. I should be dead, not Rhen!”

 

“He was doing his job sir,” Aric says softly, from his spot across the table, “his duty.”

 

“Doesn’t make it easier.”

 

“No, it never does. Nothing does.”

 

We finally wave the Twilek waitress over and she brought us refills before I continue my story.

 

“I held him as he bled out,” I said, eyes distant again, lost on a faraway battle field. “I passed out with his dead body in my arms. Figured I’d join him in the next life pretty quick.”

 

“Instead?” Aric prompted when I got quiet.

 

“Instead, I was evac’d to a rear base and quickly transported out to a class one medical facility. I was a mess. They patched me up and dunked me into a kolto tank. I spent weeks in there and even more time in the medbay after they woke me up.”

 

A knowing look passes over the Cathar’s face.

 

“By the time I woke up, Rhen’s body had been released to his family,” I continued, “They had no choice but to bury him before I woke up. I couldn’t even go to the funeral to give my condolences.”

 

“****,” Aric said.

 

“Yeah,” I agreed. I leaned my head on the back of the booth and closed my eyes. “Rhen left me his blaster cannon. His brother gave it to me when I was well enough to leave the medial facility.” Sitting up again, I look at Aric, “When I use it in combat, it’s like having a piece of Rhen with me, fighting with me, watching my back like always, you understand?”

 

“Yes sir I do,” my squad mate replied softly, his own eyes growing distant as he drifted away in his own recollections.

 

We each sat quietly for a time, remembering battles won and lost, the things we had done and seen. The planets we had traveled too, some of them gone now too. And of course we thought of our comrades, our battle buddies. Some of them just drifting away as friends do but others torn from us in battle, most having died way too young.

 

Breaking the melancholy, Aric raised his mug in the air and said, “For our comrades lost!”

 

“For the Republic!” I add, tapping my mug against his and taking a drink.

 

Tipping his mug back, Aric drinks it all, finishing it off and pounding it down on the table. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and leans back in his seat.

 

“Next time you need some mods for it,” my XO said, indicating my cannon, “Let me know. I know a guy that always has the hottest stuff on the market.”

 

Finally smiling again, I answer, “Will do.”

 

A/N: Sad I know. Reviews please.

 

Edited July 24, 2015 by Rhyys
Fixing langauge

[Mirdthestrill]

Here's me, starting to get caught up with the comments! Welcome to Rhyys, I'll get to yours soon

 

@Diviciacus- Yes, she deleted the message without sending it. I'm actually considering doing all or nearly all of her stories in messages that she writes to her parents and deletes without sending, but I'm still trying to decide if that will be too limiting.

 

 

@Frauzet- RE: Sick- Poor Nikeo! Even when he's all shaky and feverish, he still can't stop worrying about others.

 

RE: Two Square Meters- And thus we see the seeds of Thorns lingering bitterness, perhaps? I like your organic description of the cell, how it flows into itself without being clunky.

 

RE: The Cloak- believe it or not, I still haven't done any content past Makeb (which isn't finished), so avoiding for potential spoilers, despite wanting to read about Ru again. *sigh* so much to do in game!

 

RE: A Debt- It's weird, trying to write without any adjectives. If it helps, I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't told me.

 

@Yoshi- Welcome back! Skipping When All Words Fail for now, due to spoilers, but I'm glad to see you again.

 

@Jmags- RE: The Privateer- I love the intelligence report idea! I might have to steal your stolen idea and make a few of these of my own

 

RE: Quarrelsome Individual- Haven't done Rishi yet, sorry

 

@Oliver- RE: Iconoclasm: The Last- haven't done Ziost, either

 

@Feldraeth- RE: Sith Hunters- First off, I'm so happy that you read my thread and it was able to provide a little inspiration. I really liked reading about your agents little sting, and the thought given to making sure Sith politics get their dues. Your notes at the end made me chuckle, too.

 

RE: Teenagers- I actually got a bit of a laugh out of that one. It's totally something they'd do. The thing that always struck me the most about the BH crew is how young most of them are. I guess you don't last long in that line of work, but still. As you've pointed out, Mako and Torian are barely not teens, if they've even hit twenty yet, and Blizz acts pretty young, too.

 

@Toatokua- I didn't read your previous piece, but I'm assuming you've asked for advice? If not, feel free to disregard. It still moves quite fast, although the bit in the middle, when you were describing the fight, was good. I like the idea of Sith leaving the Empire, since usually it goes in the other direction.

 

@Divi- RE: This New Dawn's Light- I like your writing style. The convirsation between Nurkolas and your BH especially feels very natural. Also like the line "Don't tell my you've never seen a woman take off her clothing before. You live on Nar Shadda."

 

[Rhyys]

Hi all!! I just got back from a 2 week vacation last night and while I could access this thread with my phone, our signals weren't the greatest in northern Michigan. So a couple of things before I post a story I wrote back during Valentines for Tumblr. 1- I'm sorry I don't have any comments at this time since I'm so behind.....and 2- Pretty please, if you need something fixed on the Index can you send me a PM? Someone needed something fixed while I was away on vacation and now I'm having a hard time finding the comment.....if that's you, can you let me know in a PM and I'll take care of it when I update the Index later.

 

Okay, now have some warm fuzzies with Mallay and Aric. This was originally posted on my Tumblr 2/13/2015 and was the most popular of those romantic drabbles I wrote that weekend.

 

Title: Mission Accomplished

Prompt: Love Letters and Secret Valentines, Hidden Talents

Character: Mallayse Lauren-Trooper

Setting: Coruscant, after the class stories

Spoilers: Spoilers for a couple of Coruscant planetary missions and a brief mention of Trooper Act 2 finale

 

**Warning: Definitely some suggestive content in this one, nothing graphic though.

 

The petite Human let out sigh of exasperation as she reread the paragraph again, her mind unable to focus on the words of the romance novel. Instead, she kept wondering how her XO was faring in Black Sun territory. She hated not being with them, but wouldn’t be cleared for combat for at least another week.

 

“Stupid,” she grumbled, still angry at herself for not being properly prepared.

 

Another turf war had broken out in the lower levels and Corescant’s security force was having trouble subduing it. They requested military backup and since Havoc was on planet at the time, General Garza sent them in to assist. They’d gained a lot of ground that first day, retaking the merchant concourse which was a key location for the Black Sun’s leadership and were in the process of securing the small warehouse the gang had been using as a headquarters when Mallay set off an unseen trigger in the back room while her and Elara were downloading files, having missed the advanced tech on her initial scan. They raced out of the room, Mallay hitting the switch on her generator to shield herself and shoved Elara out the door as the warehouse blew.

 

The blast threw the women clear of the burning building, but a large beam fell from the doorway and landed on them. Elara suffered a concussion and cracked a couple of ribs while Mallay’s shoulder was dislocated again and her leg had been broken when the beam fell on it. It had been a few days since her and Elara got out of the tanks, but she was still favoring her right leg a little.

 

So instead of leading her squad back into Black Sun territory to finish the job, she was sitting in the suite alone while her second in command took charge. Elara was taking advantage of her downtime by attending a medical seminar at the Academy. Mallay thought about going, but knew she’d be too distracted to get anything from it.

 

Knowing she needed to take her mind off of things, Mallay got up and went into the kitchen since hitting the gym was out of the question for the next couple of weeks. She smiled as she pondered the contents of the conservator, seeing everything she needed to make one of Aric’s favorite meals and decided a romantic dinner would be the perfect pick me up. It might even help convince her stubborn husband that despite not being combat ready, she was fit for some forms of physical activity. She loved him dearly, but was getting a little frustrated with him thinking she was fragile. She couldn’t really blame him though, knowing how she’d felt when he was floating in the kolto tank after the Gauntlet.

 

Her lips twitched with a smile as she thought of one way to make him change his mind and as soon as she had everything in the oven, she headed back to their bedroom. Thankful they qualified for married housing in the Military complex and had a separate suite from the rest of the squad, she opened the closet and pulled out the white garment bag that contained her sexy lingerie. She mulled over her choices, wishing she’d had time to go shopping for something new when a glint at the bottom caught her eye. Then a wicked idea came to her as she pulled out the skimpy dancer costume, having forgotten she had it. He’d admitted a while ago how much he loved seeing her dancing in it that first day on Coruscant. Hoping the spirited Nautolan was safe and happy wherever she was, Mallay began to remove her comfortable yoga pants and tank top.

 

A little while later, Mallay was pleased with her reflection. Her long thick auburn tresses tumbled wildly down to her waist and the outfit still fit perfectly. She’d put on some makeup, outlining her eyes with a kohl pencil and choosing shades of shadow and lip gloss that complimented the red and gold costume.

 

“Oh yeah,” she smiled at her reflection, “This’ll get his attention.”

 

Then she went into the living room where she had her holocamera set up, turned on the music player, and hopped up on the coffee table. Her weak leg kept her from doing anything too elaborate, but she managed plenty of sensual, provocative movements that kept up with the beat of the very suggestive song she’d chosen. Once the song ended, she stepped off the table and turned the camera off, then downloaded the video to her datapad. She played it back, satisfied that it would get her point across, then typed out a quick message to Aric and attached the video. She hesitated, biting her lip as she began to have second thoughts, but before she could chicken out, she hit the send button.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Hands where I can see ‘em!” the tawny Cathar ordered, keeping his assault cannon trained on the gang members as they filed out of building, “One wrong move and this droid is gonna make you deeply regret it.”

 

“Prisoner transport’s on its way, boss,” Tanno’s gravelly voice called out and Aric turned towards the approaching Weequay.

 

“Good,” Aric nodded as Yuun started cuffing the men, “This should be the last of their leadership for now.”

 

“You can bet they’ll be back though,” Tanno insisted.

 

“I’m sure they will,” Aric agreed lowering his voice as some of their backup passed by and began hauling the secured prisoners over to where the shuttle would be landing, “But maybe next time Corescant Security can get a handle on them before it gets this bad, but if not then…..” he trailed off as muffled beeping caught his attention.

 

“Pretty sure that’s you,” Tanno shrugged, then chuckled as his XO dug the datapad out of his pack, “Probably the other boss checking up on us.”

 

“Yeah,” Aric confirmed as he spotted the message from his mate, who was notorious for being a control freak. He sighed as he opened it, “It’s her and….what the kriff…..” Then those bright green eyes widened and he clutched the datapad to his chest as his curious squad mate leaned over to peek.

 

“Is that music playing?” Tanno asked, a knowing grin on his face as he watched his XO fumbling with the datapad as he tried to stop the video, “What’d she send you?”

 

“Never mind,” Aric growled as he hit the power button, “Just go help Yuun!”

 

Tanno only laughed harder as he clapped the Cathar on the back before walking off to assist the Gand. Then he paused, looking back in time to see the frustrated Captain running his hands over his head as he took several deep breaths, “I think we got this under control here boss……no reason for you to stick around when you’re going to be too…..distracted.”

 

Aric didn’t hesitate, taking off at a run towards the nearest taxi station as the transport shuttle landed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Back in her yoga pants and tank top, Mallay was in the kitchen chopping vegetables when she heard the door to the suite open. She glanced at the chrono just as her husband entered the kitchen and strode towards her.

 

“You’re a little early…….is everything alright? Did something….” Mallay was cut off as Aric’s mouth captured hers in a searing kiss.

 

“I’m early because I just double-timed it through Black Sun territory after getting one really hot message from my mate,” he murmured against her lips before trailing his mouth down her neck, “Then I paid a taxi double fare to get me out of that sector in record time and ran across the Senate Plaza to get here. After going a week without touching you and seeing that video…….do you have any idea what that did to me?!”

 

“I’m hoping it convinced you that I feel fine and am very interested in having you touch me,” Mallay replied, a pleasured sigh escaping her as those fangs teased her ear.

 

“Mission accomplished, sir,” Aric whispered hotly as he scooped her up and carried her back to their bedroom.

 

“But dinner….” Mallay protested weakly.

 

“Let it burn,” Aric chuckled, that sexy sound sending a flood of warmth down her belly as he lowered her onto the bed, “Because I’m hungry for something other than food right now.”

 

LOL! When Mallay took the bag out I just knew what was in it and made me smile! And OMG! the video! She's just lucky no one was close enough to see it when Aric watched it! And Tanno, you nailed it there! I can see him laughing about it!!

 

Anyway, all around great job! Can't wait to read more about Mallay and Aric!

[Mirdthestrill]

And more comments! We'll see how far I get this time.

 

 

@alaruin- RE: The Hangover pt 1- don't worry about appologies, because I've never seen that movie. Funny story, though, had me grinning at the slow realizations. One little thing, though- at one point you reference a blond Mandalorian, who I'm assuming is Torian, but you never use his name and the context almost makes it seem like you're talking about Gault just a note

 

@Bulitudes- RE: Quick Mark- I like this one! Kira (I'm assuming they're talking about Kira, here) better watch out.

 

@Frauzet- RE: The Gift- I'm guessing it was a speeder part? I loved this bit, especially Nik's feeling guilty for accepting a gift that he knows he really wants. Very realistic.

 

@AKHadeed- RE: Dear Sweet Baby Sister- I forgot how much I missed your writing style in my not keeping up with this thread lately. I think we all have someone like that in our life, someone we love a lot but really can't stand at the same time. Props to Angie to attempting to put up with it.

 

@Oliverthefighter- RE: Wrathful Exposure- Skipping because I haven't reached the Quinncident or Rishi yet. Sorry!

 

RE: Broken Cipher- and haven't done agent story, either. Ugh.

 

@Divi- RE: Absolution, pt 1- You know, it never made much sense to me either that both the Jedi suddenly get new masters upon hitting Tython. I usually attempt to address that in some way, with my workarounds being that Feyte as well was Yuon's padawan for a while, while Eyrie waited an abnormally long time for hers. Also, I had kind of assumed that Larana was Yuon's, so no complaints from me there As for the story itself, I thought you handled it very well, although given that it is the internet, no matter what you write or how you write it, someone, somewhere could be offended by anything. But I thought it was a very interesting and relatable exploration of your consular's feelings.

 

@Feldraeth- RE: Steward of Ziost- Hey, you're a better poet than I am. I really, really liked this piece. The almost lyrical way you wrote it, with the detached but deeply invested narrative voice... well done.

 

[Diviciacus]

A new person! Hi Rhyys, welcome to the thread!

 

Comentarii:

 

 

@Alaurin: Nothing like getting a video sext at work to really get one hot and bothered, haha! The Coruscant cop knew too, didn't he?

 

And thank you for refiling my one story. You are the coolest Hylo Viz avatar NA.

 

@Rhyys: Heartbreaking, man. It's insanely tough psychologically to survive when others did not. I ever see your Commando, drinks are on me. I really like how you made a touching in-character explanation for why you stuck with the same initial assault cannon as a player.

 

@Mirdthestrill: I think that would be a pretty cool idea, no lie. The only real limitations are the ones you set for yourself But I can see perhaps dialogue or combat being difficult to translate into a journal entry.

 

As for JK/JC getting a new master, it kind of sort of makes sense for Knight, since the guy who greets you says "a different master will be overseeing your combat and final trials." To me, that makes sense because you'd want objectivity, right? Maybe? No? Am I delusional again?

 

I'm accidentally very good at offending people on the internet. Oops? Anyway, we'll see how things go as I get more stories concerning my consular posted.

 

@toatokua: Definitely seeing improvement in your writing! You da real MVP. Every time I read your stories, I feel worse and worse for Helksan. He just caught no breaks, earlier in his life. Very well thought out, though. I enjoyed your mention of the Pureblood only wanted to marry him for power.

 

I notice a couple flow problems, but they're minor. I'll send a pm, though.

 

 

 

I am the tiniest bit reticent posting a second story of mine on the same page as a previous one, but I want to get this out before the "Touch" prompt which may come tomorrow.

 

Title: Absolutions pt. 2

Prompt: Traditions

Characters: Synchordia

Chronology: Next season's premiere compared to Absolution pt. 1's season finale. (I watched so much Star Trek as a kid).

Spoilers: Consular Chapter two, Lord of the Rings. (Maybe? But seriously who hasn't read that?)

Words: 898

 

 

 

Synchordia arrived at Grand Master Satele Shan's private chambers, finding the antique double doors swung open. From within, she could hear the Grand Master's voice call out to her.

 

"Please come in, Master Synchordia. I apologize for the clutter. I keep the atrium more austere for meetings just such as this, but the constant demands on my time of coordinating the war effort between the Republic and the Jedi requires a lot of note-taking and cross-referencing."

 

Syn gave the entrance to the Grand Master's suite a cursory examination as she stepped over the threshold; she had never been here. "Then allow me to begin by offering thanks for taking time out of your hectic schedule to humor me, Grand Master Shan."

 

The head of the Jedi order held up a hand. "Please, just Master Satele. I sense this meeting is about your message."

 

"Yes, Master Satele." Synchordia confirmed. She could feel her heartbeats quickening in trepidation. Breathe.

 

There is no passion, there is serenity.

 

As Satele sat behind a desk covered in padds, holocrons, and even handwritten notes, she gestured to an empty chair positioned in front. "Please, sit. You worry Darth Lachris was trying to harm you through the Force in vengeance for her death?"

 

Sitting in a chair opposite the Grand Master, Synchordia exhaled slowly. "Yes. The Dark Side is insidious, and after the actions of Lord Vivicar, I cannot be certain."

 

"Become certain, then. Look inside yourself."

 

Synchordia sat straight in the chair, bowing her head as she closed her eyes. She concentrated on the Grand Master's voice as she spoke.

 

"Do you see the darkness that lies in the heart of the Sith?"

 

Languid streamers of bluish-yellow radiated away from the seated Consular, a visual Force artifact of her inward-turned meditation. "I... see no shadows. No darkness."

 

Master Satele's voice echoed down into the deep places of Synchordia's mind. "If you do not see the Dark Side, what do you see, then?"

 

"I... see a Jedi wearing a mantle of great power, a mantle she never wanted. A Jedi who has fought in more battles and been forced to kill more foes than most see in a lifetime. A scared little orphan girl who after twenty years in the Order wonders if the sister and brother she barely remembers are even still alive through all this war."

 

Satele Shan's voice curled around inside Synchordia's psyche as thought it were a warm synthweave blanket wrapped around a child by a mother.

 

"Many years ago, when I was perhaps nine or ten, looking at old books in the Temple on Coruscant, I found an ancient tome. Handwritten, its pages were yellowed and brittle; the ink nearly faded to all but illegibility. And in its pages was not some forgotten secret of the early Order, but a tale of a powerful and unstoppable evil. Evil brought low not through mighty fleets or even armies on foot, but through the will and perseverance of people like you or I, who stood strong, even in their darkest hour."

 

Syn couldn't see the Grand Master, but could hear the brushing of her fingers along one of the page-bound volumes on the desk.

 

"And in the pages of this ancient story I found a small token of wisdom spoken by a worldly old man, one that has stayed with me during all the intervening years and hardships:

 

'So do all who live to see such times; but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.' "

 

Master Satele waited a moment before speaking once more. "Do you see anything else, Synchordia?"

 

"I see a confused young woman, who has begun to realize she, too, can be attracted to others. A young woman who lies to herself, so steadfastly refusing to admit these feelings are even hers, she foists blame onto a dying Sith Lord, slain by her own hand. I see a Jedi Master meditating in a cluttered chamber, with the knowledge to know when to reach out for guidance. But without the wisdom to see that only she can answer the questions she asks of others."

 

"Do you know what I see, Master Synchordia? The makings of a noble Jedi, if only the young woman you see in your mind would stop doubting her inner strength."

 

Synchordia sat in silence for several breaths before she opened her eyes, appreciating what the Grand Master had just done for her.

 

"Thank you, Master Satele, for offering me some time out of your frenetic schedule. For listening. For showing me where to look."

 

The two Jedi rose in unison.

 

"Decades of experience have given me a fair amount of insight into what often troubles young Jedi. After all... I was a troubled young Jedi, once.

 

We're both quite busy now, though, so it is time we parted. Trust in the Force; the Noetikons will answer.

 

May the Force be with you, Master Synchordia."

 

"And also with you, Master Satele."

 

Synchordia bowed before turning to leave as the Grand Master picked up a padd, keying a frequency into the holocom unit built into the desk.

 

Walking through the hallway on her way to the nearest staircase to the ground level and the Noetikons, Syn reflected on the wisdom of Master Satele.

 

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

 

 

 

Author's notes:

 

 

Part two! yay! Lords of the Rings totally exists in the TOR universe. It exists in all universes, for it is the lynchpin which binds the multiverse together. Anyway, I thought that by making it in-universe, I wouldn't have to be stuck academically citing the relevant passage, especially since it's terrifyingly apropos here. But yea, Lord of the Rings, Fellowship of the Ring. Everyone's familiar with the line, yes? It even shows up in the movie, where the dialogue is almost never what it says in the book.

 

I'm not sure if I want to post part 3 at all. It's got a couple of rather... controversial sorts of things in it and I don't know if I really want that getting into a public place. It could cause an incident, if certain kinds of people read it. I can foresee it having the potential to annoy both sides of the same-sex debate (despite that not being my intention), so I'm very hesitant. And incidentally, it was my impetus for splitting the entire story into three parts in the first place.

 

What do you guys think? As both colleagues and audience, your opinions matter to me most.

 

 

Edited July 24, 2015 by Diviciacus

[Oliverthefighter]

Divacious, go ahead and post, the point is for meaningful fanfic to be posted here. I don't see why you shouldn't so long as you notify of content via spoilers and headers.