The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!

[Magdalane]

I can't see Aric ever looking like a lowlife, but I loved the story. Worst. Idea. Ever. LOL!

[bright_ephemera]

Worlds Colliding: In which Nalenne is uncharacteristically helpful to strangers. Nalenne, no spoilers except for There Is No Death, There Is Only Wrath. 1200 words.

 

 

 

 

Time period: After Quinn returns to life and after he leaves the S.A.B.E.R. Helicarrier, having quarreled with Nalenne. Again. Oh well, he's starting a solo military career. Meanwhile Andronikos Revel is tagging along with Nalenne's crew.

 

 

Nalenne touched down on Nar Shaddaa, just another stop on the way to mayhem. To her considerable surprise, a small balding man darted up the ship's ramp and past her into the holo room. "My lord," he squeaked. "Come back in. We have to talk. In private."

 

"I'm feeling generous, stranger. You have fifty words to not die." Nalenne and the crew gathered round. Andronikos kept his hands on his blasters.

 

"Wait," said Pierce, "I remember you. You're the guy who made that hallucination planet-killer the Wrath had to break back in the day."

 

"Yes. Yes, I am. I'm Doctor Nasan Godera and you have to help me."

 

"Thirty words left," said Nalenne. "More or less, I don't count well."

 

"Two planets are about to be destroyed and I don't know who else to call."

 

"Ooh, where? I want a front-row seat."

 

"No!" squeaked Godera. "Listen to me. I was working on a highly classified project."

 

Pierce perked up.

 

"It was a weapon designed to be installed in a planet to move it out of orbit, irrevocably changing planetary conditions and leading to the destruction of the whole thing."

 

"That's terrible," breathed Jaesa.

 

"We built the prototype on Nosovil IV. It was a good candidate: Low mass, out of the way galactically speaking, and hardly populated at all."

 

"Oh, great. Hardly-populated planets are the best ones to blow up," said Vette.

 

"Sith clan prefers heavily populated," buzzed Broonmark.

 

"I'll assume he just said something outright evil," said Vette.

 

Godera continued. "I had a crisis of conscience just after it was completed. I realized I could never let this be used."

 

"Just like the last fifty things you've prototyped?" Pierce said dryly.

 

"Exactly!" cried Godera. "So I had it buried."

 

"And someone unburied it?" guessed Nalenne.

 

"Not quite. All that material blocked the exhaust."

 

"…It was still running?"

 

"Backup batteries. The staff forgot. Anyway, the weapon won't activate, but complicated reasons having to do with gaping design flaws are building up pressure as we speak. Not only is the whole thing going to blow within hours, on its predicted trajectory the planet will collide with Nosovil III. Billions will die." Godera's eyes filled with tears. "That Sith that the Hero of Tython goes around with started intercepting and summarily hanging up on all my calls for help with this sort of thing months ago. Please, you stopped one of my superweapons once. You can do it again."

 

"I could," Nalenne said slowly, "but I'm a little confused as to why you think I would want to."

 

"There are people on those planets!" He looked tearfully at her unmoved face. "Imperials! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

 

"Doctor, there's one Imperial in this galaxy I care about. The rest are entertainment."

 

"Thanks for that, milord," said Pierce.

 

Nalenne jumped and looked guilty. "You could've been the one I was talking about."

 

"You're a terrible liar, milord."

 

"Okay, two Imperials." Nalenne leaned over to catch Andronikos' eye. "For clarification, I'm not counting you as an Imperial."

 

"Stars, I hope not."

 

"Master," said Jaesa from the coffee table console. "One of those Imperials is on planet."

 

"No. Why would Quinn be assigned to Nowhereville III?"

 

"Nosovil III, my lord," said Godera.

 

"Whatever."

 

"Insanity Company was sent there. Records don't say why." She looked up at Nalenne. "I just thought I'd check, you know, before you let two planets burn."

 

"Collide and partially disintegrate," said Godera. "The burning will be purely incidental."

 

"Lay in a course, Andronikos," ordered Nalenne.

 

"Do we have to? It's just the guy who walked out on you."

 

"Lay in a course," Nalenne said quietly. "I don't like even you enough to say it a third time."

 

"Right." Andronikos disappeared to the bridge.

 

Nalenne turned to Doctor Godera. "Now what do you expect us to do about it? I seriously doubt going down with shovels will help."

 

"You could get your ghost to sneak past the blocks and shut down the power source?" Godera said hopefully.

 

"The ghost couldn't have touched the power controls, he has a body now anyway, and he isn't with us. Try again."

 

"We could blow it up," suggested Pierce.

 

"Somehow I doubt blowing up the thing that's threatening to blow up is going to change the course of events," said Vette.

 

"We break the blockage, Vette. The whatever-it-is will exhaust normally."

 

Godera nodded. "And my staff can disassemble it after the danger is past so it can never be used."

 

"But why wouldn't you leave fully functional superweapons lying around?" Vette asked innocently.

 

"An insightful question," blipped Broonmark.

 

"Listen, milord, remember those megamissiles you wouldn't let me buy back at the pirate bazaar on Hoth?"

 

"Pierce, Andronikos said they would've killed the hyperspace mileage on the ship, and besides that the launchers were ugly as virtue."

 

"What if we just bought 'em for one-time use?"

 

"It's your best chance," said Godera. "Perhaps the only one."

 

Nalenne started for the bridge. "Maybe we can make that detour in time."

 

*

 

The galaxy's most slapdash bolt job secured the missile launchers to the S.A.B.E.R. Helicarrier as it streaked through hyperspace to the Nosovil system. Jaesa made multiple efforts to contact Quinn via holo, but since the reconstruction of the ship's holo they had had a new frequency and Quinn wasn't answering the new one. He would get no warning.

 

Nalenne slid her hands over Andronikos' shoulders as he maneuvered into orbit over Nosovil III, seeking a good shot at the location Doctor Godera pointed out. "If you make this in time," she said, "I'll make it very much worth your while."

 

"Huh. You realize you're offering sexual favors in exchange for rescuing your husband."

 

"Is it going to work?"

 

"Well, yeah, but still. Weird."

 

Pierce, wisely, didn't comment. Instead he flicked another couple of controls at his console. "Targeting systems coming up. And, ready when you are."

 

"Go for it," said Andronikos.

 

The missiles shook the ship so violently upon launch that everyone fell over and most of them bounced into walls. Nalenne scrambled to her feet to grab Godera by the scruff of the neck and drag him to one of the monitoring stations. "Tell me if it worked."

 

"Fixing our damn orbit first," said Andronikos, dragging himself back to the pilot's chair. "Those were ridiculous."

 

"That's the point," grinned Pierce.

 

Godera watched the console anxiously. Nalenne had chewed most of the way through her lip before he finally closed his eyes and relaxed. "The primary exhaust on the planet's surface is clear. It seems to be venting nonviolently."

 

"So everyone on both planets is not going to die."

 

"Not because of me, anyway," said Godera.

 

"Oh," Broonmark blorped disappointedly.

 

"Ordinarily I would just off you now," Nalenne told Godera, "but it's so much funnier to leave you on the loose. Jaesa, drop him off someplace." Nalenne grabbed Andronikos' tunic. "I'll be busy."

 

Vette watched them go and blinked. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but is she about to celebrate the rescue of her husband by banging Andronikos Revel?"

 

"Yup," said Pierce.

 

"…And yet," said Vette, "as of right this moment she is still not the most unethical person on the ship."

 

 

Edited October 27, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[Tatile]

Thank you, Bright, that was fun And Andronikus... *purr* sometimes I wish we could swap companions around our characters, he'd be on my Agent's ship in a heartbeat.

[Adwynyth]

Worlds Colliding: In which Nalenne is uncharacteristically helpful to strangers. Nalenne, no spoilers except for There Is No Death, There Is Only Wrath. 1200 words.

 

 

Vette watched them go and blinked. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but is she about to celebrate the rescue of her husband by banging Andronikos Revel?"

 

BAHAHHAHAHHAHAAHAH! I love it!

[iamthehoyden]

Bright, any story with Godera in it...honest to Pete the man has a talent for destruction. Hehehe.

 

And yes, Jorgan is awful at looking like a lowlife. Give the man some camo and a bush, and I'm sure he could stay unnoticed for days, but yeah, not so much the acting. I was running through my characters when that prompt came up and the first thing that came to mind was "omg they would SUCK at that." So, obviously...lol.

Edited October 27, 2012 by iamthehoyden

[Striges]

Worlds Colliding: In which Nalenne is uncharacteristically helpful to strangers. Nalenne, no spoilers except for There Is No Death, There Is Only Wrath. 1200 words.

 

 

"…And yet," said Vette, "as of right this moment she is still not the most unethical person on the ship."

 

 

See, this is the part that makes me giggle. And here's to a very literal interpretation of Worlds Colliding!

 

 

Prompt: Worlds Colliding

 

Characters: Sha’ra’zaed (agent) and Kaliyo (and Zhorrid)

 

Spoilers for IA story through Nar Shaddaa (middle-late Act I), including notes section. For chronology purposes, this takes place well after Defector, Exile, Émigré. I don’t have any other Sha’ra’zaed stories posted yet for this timeframe; that’s the closest one. 900 words.

 

Notes:

I started this story in response to ‘Disguises’, considering metaphorical disguises rather than pure physical ones. The sort of manipulation an agent does as a matter of course. Showing the proper face to the proper people at the proper time. But I ended up more at ‘colliding worlds’: Zhorrid’s, Sha’ra’zaed’s, even Kaliyo’s. Everyone has a different agenda, and they barely acknowledge anyone else’s.

 

The irony is that Nar Shaddaa is one of the few quest series where an agent gets to wear a cool physical disguise. After the tabletop surgery to get the droid disguise, I wish we got to keep it as a social item. Or that it was used again later.

 

 

 

“Agent,” crooned Darth Zhorrid, “I tasked you with discovering my father’s assassin. Yet I have had no word from you. Not. One. Word. I am,” she smiled sweet as a poisoned flower, “disappointed.”

 

The last several hours’ events flashed through Sha’ra’zaed’s mind. I just allowed Watcher X to slice a boy’s brain like the holoporn terminal in a cheap hotel. Then I killed my unwilling informant. After which I killed Watcher X, because I can’t determine how much of his aid was genuine and how much was manipulating the situation. I may have killed a valuable ally in exchange for the dubious support of Intelligence. Despite which I still managed to disable the cell on Nar Shaddaa. And you have the gall to lock down my ship and tell me you’re disappointed.

 

Zhorrid was a Sith. Above the concerns of mere mortals. Yet she needed the little mortals to do things for her. Which would be much easier if she’d stay out of the way.

 

Sha’ra’zaed put on her own smile. Passive, placating, a little sad at making her benefactor unhappy, “I apologise, Darth Zhorrid.”

 

“I do not want apologies, Agent! I want results!” Zhorrid snapped, “You have done nothing to aid me. You waste time on silly little errands while my father’s murderer runs free.” Her brown eyes held glittering madness.

 

Play to her ego. Sith liked that, “A web so subtle it could ensnare Darth Jadus takes time to unravel, Darth Zhorrid,” Sha’ra’zaed said, “and the threads are not always obviously connected. I assure you my full attention is on discovering who killed your father and destroyed the Dominator in the process. I sent complete reports to Intelligence. Did you ask to see them?”

 

“I should not need to ask, Agent! They should be given me as a matter of course! I am a member of the Dark Council, successor to Darth Jadus!” Zhorrid shrilled. Then she settled, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her dark robes. Her painted-on doll’s smile returned, “Perhaps you are not to blame. The failure may lie in Intelligence instead. No matter. I have my own lead for you. A confidant of my father’s is hiding on Nar Shaddaa. You will bring him to me.”

 

Sha’ra’zaed had unwittingly sentenced a sacrificial Minder to an unpleasant visit—possibly death—from Zhorrid. She should have known how Zhorrid would interpret her statement. After the mess on Nar Shaddaa she had a very hard time feeling bad about it. Other than the slip. There could be no slips. There were no excuses for slips. None. Sha’ra’zaed covered her chagrin with a slight bow of her head, “Of course, my Lord. Do you have a name for me? A location?”

 

Darth Zhorrid puffed up proudly, “Yes I have a name. I am better at this game than you. Than the whole of your vaunted Intelligence. Vyord Yanol. He is on Nar Shaddaa. Which is where you are.” Zhorrid pursed her pretty bow lips, “Which is where you will stay until you have him for me. I want him. I need him.”

 

Need? Now there was an interesting turn of phrase. Exploitable, perhaps, if she were cautious. A ploy: “If you’d like, my Lord, I could interrogate him on my ship. You could observe by holo—“

 

“I am quite adept at interrogation methods, Agent,” Zhorrid trilled, a bit of impatience roughening the edges of her voice, “Bring him. Only him.”

 

“Should I look for anything specific when I locate him, my Lord?” Sha’ra’zaed asked. She was pushing Zhorrid for information now, a dangerous proposition, “Something he was working on? He may have computerized files—“

 

“Bring him, Agent. I will not tolerate failure.” Zhorrid’s words swam in menace, her threat implicit.

 

“As you wish, Darth Zhorrid. I live to serve,” Sha’ra’zaed replied.

 

Zhorrid brightened, “Oh, I do so like to hear those words. I look forward to hearing from you, Agent.” Her visage faded from the viewer.

 

Vyord Yanol. Not a name Intelligence turned up. Sha’ra’zaed had no doubt whatever he knew would be of importance. If not for her current mission, then certainly for dealing with Zhorrid’s erratic demands. It was vital she gained a firm understanding of the Dark Council, its function, and its machinations. Perhaps complying with Zhorrid’s demand would not be a waste of time.

 

“I see you like your Sith with hot and cold running sanity, Agent,” Kaliyo quipped from the rear corridor. She levered off the bulkhead, “You laid it on pretty thick there. I can’t believe you really want to play gofer for Darth Kooky.”

 

Sha’ra’zaed turned around slowly. “We missed the organ markets, remember? I guess you’ll have a chance to show me around after all.”

 

“I can never be sure when you’re being sarcastic, Agent,” Kaliyo said, “makes me nervous sometimes.”

 

“Since we’re not going anywhere without Zhorrid’s present, we might as well take advantage of the situation.”

 

“And here I thought your idea of fun was waxing your specimen jars and re-reading your comparative anatomy textbooks,” Kaliyo said, “I’ll go get my guns.” She slipped back off to the crew quarters.

 

“You do that,” Sha’ra’zaed said after her. If she wasn’t busy watching her words with Zhorrid, Watcher X, half the population of Nar Shaddaa and possibly Intelligence, she was waiting for Kaliyo to stab her in the back. She’d asked Keeper’s permission to dispose of her—again—and been refused.

 

Medical corps wasn’t exciting enough? Do be careful what you wish for.

 

 

Further notes concerning Darth Zhorrid, courtesy bright_ephemera (thanks a ton, Bright!): Contains spoilers for Agent Acts 1 and 2

Agent spoilers through Act 2: I also took LS for the end of Act 1 and simply never saw Zhorrid again. My last conversation was the Act 1 one wherein she was wounded and whining about how the Dark Council won't respect her.

 

If you go DS to become the Hand of Jadus, practically the first thing he asks you to do - I believe it's while you're still in the end-of-Act-1 conversation - is to go remove Zhorrid from Jadus's Dark Council seat.

 

It's wicked creepy, too. When you return to Jadus he'll ask whether it's done and you can say "Uh, wouldn't you have Force noticed when your own daughter died?" and he says something like "I would have to feel something toward her for that to happen." I'm not sure whether you see Jadus himself after that point or whether all his quests go through an intermediary, but you do get to deal with Zhorrid yourself.

 

A couple of additional quests happen later on. For instance, on Hoth you get a quest to waylay some kind of close-to-the-Emperor messengers to intercept a missive about the Emperor's plan. Jadus is watching matters. Which is awesome.

 

Edited October 28, 2012 by Striges

[Ereiniel]

A late entry for Xenobiology, partially written on a cruise ship en route to Halifax, Nova Scotia last week. I’m not sure if I ought to apologize for, or revel in, the silliness.

 

Introducing Ariena Girard, Sith inquisitor (and one of Varenne’s three older sisters), and her morose monster. A little SI plot element spoiler/reference. 510 words.

 

 

It was gone again.

 

Ariena stared hard at the spot in her closet where it was supposed to be, frowning. This was not the first time it had gone missing.

 

The first time it happened, she had marched straight into the crew’s quarters and demanded that Ashara put it back. The Jedi twit had looked right back at her and said airily, “What makes you think I’d want to wear anything like that?”

 

Ariena gritted her teeth. This was her favorite one. She’d had it for years and it still looked great on.

 

“Master,” came a cranky voice from the doorway, rousing her from her thoughts.

 

“What is it, my morose monster?” Ariena replied, without moving her gaze from the empty spot on the shelf.

 

“I must ask how you wear such things,” Khem replied irritably. She heard him scuff his foot against the door frame – once, twice, three times.

 

“What things?” Ariena shut her closet door with a snap and turned to look at him. She screamed.

 

“Stop that. It wasn’t my idea. The witch said she wanted to try it on.” Khem looked angry and … embarrassed? “I certainly don’t want to wear it. It’s uncomfortable. Probably the most uncomfortable thing you own that the witch has wanted to try on while you’re off the ship with your pet pirate.”

 

“Wait,” Ariena said slowly. “Is that why my formal dress is now all stretched out in weird places?”

 

Khem said nothing, but made an indeterminate noise in the back of his throat.

 

“Heh. I’ll take that as a yes.” Ariena looked Khem up and down. “For all your complaining, though, I do have to say this one actually doesn’t look half bad on you. Just … just stay away from my formal dresses from now on.”

 

Khem scowled darkly back at her and crossed his arms over his chest. “I would never be seen like this on the battlefields of Yn and Chabosh.”

 

“But you’ll be seen like this on my ship? On a fairly regular basis, from the sound of it?”

 

Khem shook his head. “No. I will never understand you humans and your clothing conventions. The witch often says she has always wanted one that looks like this, and as long as I am not free of her, I will be forced to wear this on her whim.”

 

“It’s what we all wear in summer,” Ariena explained, a slight hint of amusement in her voice. “My sisters and I, we’ve all got them. Don’t tell me that in all the centuries you’ve been around, you’ve never seen one.”

 

“Hmph,” Khem grunted noncommittally. “Tulak Hord would never wear such a thing, even in hot weather. And I –”

 

“Tulak Hord again,” Ariena sighed. “What, was his blue or something instead?”

 

“Do not defile the memory of the mighty Tulak Hord in this way,” Khem growled. “I will devour any and all who disrespect the great and powerful Tu–”

 

“Khem, you know, it’s really hard to take your threats seriously while you’re wearing my pink frilly bikini.”

 

Edited October 27, 2012 by Ereiniel

[Magdalane]

Striges, the machinations of the Agent and her story line are very interesting to read. Loved the way Sha'ra'zaed handles all the things thrown at her and still manages to think through the current problem.

 

Ereiniel, loved it! Putting Khem Val in awkward situations is always fun!

[iamthehoyden]

Ereiniel, oh my goodness too funny.

 

Striges, you wouldn't believe how much I was looking forward to

killing Zhorrid and somehow (not quite sure how) I managed to never get the chance. *sigh* Disappointing. You describe her exquisitely.

 

[Ereiniel]

Bright: So many stories to comment on! Guss is so adorably awkward (or awkwardly adorable?); and I love your Vierce/Elara, they are so sweet together. And yay for a happy Ruth/Quinn moment.

 

Striges: So many from you too - loved how Varrel was learning from both Baras and Vette. I love seeing how Sha'ra'zaed manages to maneuver skillfully through the mire of politics that is Intelligence. And oh lord, Corso is so freaking cute.

 

Tatile: Hee, sunscreen! That's too funny. Also, big hugs to Lil' Rochester and his cuddly toy.

 

Fino: I've been meaning to say this for a while, but I just love all your Quinns. <3 Ald/Quinn was so adorable and a really neat take on that romance. I'm also of the school (of sorts) that believes he's all proper in public and then dominant behind closed doors. Mmm.

 

Mags: Bowie gives good relationship advice! Also, I'm sad I missed your magically disappearing fic - now I'm really curious as to what it was about.

 

Kabe: Ohmygod I love Doc (and Rusk's reaction)! I could totally see him doing that, and he may have had purely scientific intentions (though you never know with him) but I loved how it didn't actually come out so well in the end ...

 

Irrissa: Awww! That was so sweet and adorable and I enjoyed seeing everyone from the crew somehow involved in Rissa's best day ever.

 

Ves: I don't cry often, but the scene you referenced from Afterimages made me sniffle when I first read it. That's definitely a memory I would want to hold onto.

 

Elliot: Ahaha, awesome - it's so much fun to torment that morose monster and put him in weird situations ...

 

Morgani: Loved it! I'd imagine relationships like that between Aurai and Markus would happen often in the smuggling world (as in, between people with that sort of prior relationship), including how they regarded each other. I'm glad to see that they were both able to help each other out somehow, in their own different ways, even if it did complicate things somewhat.

 

LogicLoup: Loved how Maneera was able to hold her own so well in that skeezy place, even after being 'mistaken' for a Jedi. I also enjoyed reading the story behind how she ended up the way she did (in your semi-tangential ramble) - I'm always interested in stuff like that!

 

Hoyden: That was hilarious! I could totally see how Aric would be so. not. convincing. as anything but a soldier, even if his life depended on it.

 

--

 

I really hope I didn't miss anyone, but if I did, I'm very sorry and will catch you next time around. I had to go through ten pages of posts to catch up!

[Tatile]

Worlds Collide

Lord Vizloch and Lord Naught

 

 

 

"You are researching, my Lord?" Broan stepped lightly about the laboratory, curious about the experiments that were being conducted, but careful not to touch anything. Lord Vizloch sat hunched over a microscope, peering with some distaste at the tiny world it contained. She waved Broan over, not looking at him, and indicated to the wall of information dominating the end of the room. Great arrays of data flowed from left to right, some in blue, others green and a very few in red. Graphs that appeared to show a correlation of time and some sort degrading dominated one corner, while another was filled with rapidly escalating numbers. "I... see."

 

"I cannot fault you for not understanding it all, Naught," Lord Vizloch adjusted the magnification on her microscope and then re-adjusted the focus. The striations of the rock fragment disappeared and the faint outlines of her etchings came into view. "I have, after all, requested that you study Sith philosophy and not the finer points of my area of science."

 

"My Lord, are you studying the half life radiation of rocks and the inherent Force of inanimate objects?" Broan looked over his shoulder, unsure if he had spoken out of turn. To his mild delight, Lord Vizloch smiled and nodded.

 

"Very astute, Naught. I found that a purely intellectual pursuit of understanding the universe and how the Force affects it, and vice versa, was insufficient. I had to couple it with a practical examination and understanding of physical objects."

 

"So, I am studying some of the philosophers that you read in your early days of research to understand the underlying principles of what are you currently researching?" Broan waited for confirmation. Lord Vizloch nodded again. She held him in place with her eyes: her gaze forming an uncomfortable prison. Broan turned back to the wall and found himself released. "May I guess as to the purpose of the research?"

 

"Certainly, Naught, it would be interesting to see if you are capable of such expanded thinking after all your time in the Jedi order."

 

Broan rankled at the insult, but decided it was best to ignore his master's barbs.

 

"If you are looking into whether or not there is Force resonance in inanimate objects, then..." Broan chewed his lip and stared at the information for some time. He heard Lord Vizloch sigh as she returned to her microscope. "Is it possible for the Force to be imbued into objects or is it something inherent in them from their creation?"

 

"Exactly. Well done, Lord Naught, you aren't as stifled as I'd first thought."

 

"You have an interesting way with compliments, my Lord."

 

"Careful, Naught," Lord Vizloch looked up from her microscope and smiled. It was cold and cruel, and a shiver ran down Broan's pine. "I suggest you return to your books, for now."

 

"At once, my Lord."

 

 

 

Science... yeah...

[Adwynyth]

I don't comment nearly enough in this thread, but I am clearly in the presence of much greatness.

 

And Khem in a pink bikini...BAHAHAHA!

[Striges]

@ Iamthehoyden: (agent spoilers)

Zhorrid's a loose end in the LS story. I don't recall seeing her again after Act 1. I think if you take the DS option and join up with Jadus, you and he go kill her, but I haven't done the story that way. Some of the dialog options listed on Torhead suggest that's what happens. Perhaps someone here can confirm that's how it goes?

 

She's actually an interesting character. There's one conversation with her where you can get some backstory, and it's a little sad. Certainly wouldn't make me want to take up with Jadus if my agent had been so inclined.

 

 

@ Ereiniel: Rampant silliness! And mentioning the clothing stretched out in weird places--nice detail.

 

@ Tatile: I recall you mentioned Lord Vizloch's attitude was that of someone who found the meaning of life and was disappointed. I like seeing her search for answers, and Broan not being quite sure if she's nuts or brilliant.

[Irrissa]

iamthehoyden - I could totally picutre Aric and Sana NOT being able to blend in.

 

Bright - too funny.. yeah I would totally be taking advantage of Andronikus if I could. His voice just makes me melt. Yeah my guild makes fun of my swooning

 

Striges - love Agent stuff. Zhorrid just gives me the willies.. talk about a broken person. poor thing

 

Ereiniel - so funny. Khem just cracked me up, so focused and the lines are spot on

 

 

and the idea of Zash while in possession of his body making him wear womens clothes just had me in stitches

 

 

Tatile - I like the idea of a force user trying to understand the science of it all

[Magdalane]

Disguises

 

Miriah and Corso, no spoilers

 

 

“Corso, when you look at me, what do you see?” Miriah asked her first mate. They’d been together on the ship and off for a couple of months now, and she had noticed that he was very attentive to her and tried to help whenever possible. She also suspected he had started to have other feelings for her, and she wanted to put a stop to that.

 

Corso stammered, blushed, and looked for a graceful exit, but eventually coughed and said, “I see a smart, capable freighter captain. Why, you confused by that hit on the head you took earlier?” He looked directly at her then, concerned for her wellbeing.

 

“No, I’m fine,” she told him, staring at the stars streaking past the ship as they hurtled toward their next mission. After a few minutes had passed in silence, she tried again. “I meant, I know that you see what I do, but do you see me? As a person?”

 

Corso paled, had she somehow heard about his dreams? No, he thought, there’s no way she would know about that. He’d tried to hide his feelings for weeks now, and thought he was keeping things under control. He’d not said anything when she’d flirted with anything that moved on Nar Shaddaa, and just looked away. He’d also refrained from touching her when she’d had nightmares, since they spent a couple of nights sharing quarters in the field. He broke from his reverie to answer her. “I see someone who is independent and confident, loves kids and tries to do the right thing,” he said, looking at his boots. She accepted his answer and sat, silent. After a couple of hours, with her barely moving and remaining silent, he finally spoke. “I’m going to bed, Captain, unless you need me to do anything else?”

 

She looked at him and he realized she looked lost, the chair swallowing up her small frame and the muted lighting making her silver eyes shimmer. “No, Corso, rest well.” She sighed, and shifted slightly in her chair. He really doesn’t see the true me, she thought, the person who is so flawed that not even her mother loves her. The person whom everyone leaves, eventually. The woman who flirts and puts on a front so that no one can get close enough to see the cracks in her façade. She sighed and hugged her knees. He’s infatuated with an image, that’s all. That should be a good thing, she thought, but had to take a few deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. If that’s a good thing, then why does it hurt so bad?

 

She sat in that position, finally falling asleep after a bit, hidden in the disguise she’d spent years perfecting- the flirt who never followed through, the captain who always found a way to get a mission done, the woman who loved but hid it, since too many times it had been thrown in her face.

 

 

 

[kabeone]

Worlds Colliding

The Night Herald and the Jedi

(long 3.2k words or so JK ch 3 spoiler and a little companion spoiler for Vector but only implied)

 

 

“Gather around,” the Dawn Herald said to a small group of children. “It is on this night that we tell our youngest joiners a story.”

 

“Dawn Herald,” a young boy with the same midnight eyes as his elder spoke up, “Don’t we all remember the same stories?”

 

“Not this story,” He replied smiling gently, “This tale you will forget when we welcome the dawn, it is too frightening for us to remember.”

 

“Then why tell it?”

 

“Because even though we will not remember, there are some things we will know in our hearts.”

 

“Know what?”

 

The Dawn Herald grew serious and met the starry eyes of each of the children. “The warning of the Night Herald.” He softened his expression with a smile and opened a book several decades old with yellowing pages. “Now, once upon a time, there was a pair of mercenaries, looking to complete their first job.”

 

***

 

“Are you sure about this?” Koa whispered in the darkness of the cave. It smelled of damp and earthy things and something else he could not identify.

 

“Sure thing Bro,” Astrid replied cheerfully though she kept her voice low, “All we have to do is find her tracker. They don’t think she’s alive, they just need us to confirm.”

 

“Stop calling me bro.” He replied out of habit, “What about the killiks?”

 

“We have a treaty, as long as we don’t attack them, they’ll leave us alone.”

 

“Yeah, then why does this job pay so much?”

 

“Because a lot of big grown men, are afraid of dark scary caves.” He did not need to see her face to know she was grinning.

 

“I’m not afraid.” He said sourly. She spun to say something but he held up his hand. “Did you hear that?” They heard a voice coming from further up the tunnel.

 

“The tracker’s that way,” she showed him the display. He nodded and took the lead drawing out his blaster. The tunnel opened to a chamber where an injured woman lay in a milky pool of sticky golden liquid talking softly to herself, the tracking beacon blinked beside her.

 

Astrid knelt beside her “Liana Thul?” she whispered.

 

“We were once known as Liana Thul.” The girl said almost to herself, she opened her eyes, they were the night black of a killik joiner. Astrid patted the girls hand and retrieved the beacon stowing it in her pack.

 

“Let’s go.” She said taking Koa’s arm.

 

“We can’t just leave her here.” Koa whispered harshly.

 

“We have to,” she grabbed the front of his armor and shook him. “Taking someone who’s joined is a violation of the treaty. She won’t want to leave and she’s as good as dead to her family now let’s move.”

 

They turned to go but another pair of mercenaries blocked their way. The taller one ran forward ignoring them. “She matches the holo-image. I take it you have the beacon,” He said over his shoulder, “You were just going to leave her here like cowards.” He spat at their feet. “Keep it, it’ll be worthless when we bring her back alive and we get double the bounty.”

 

He put his arms in the sticky pool under the girl and helped her up. She could stand but she gasped in pain, the membrosia pool aided her healing and numbed her wounds, she whimpered when the effects quickly wore off. As her pain communicated itself through her link to the nest, several chittering arthropods appeared as if conjured. Astrid and Koa began backing toward the exit.

 

“We’re not with them.” Astrid said to the giant bugs that closed around them.

 

“I don’t think they care at this point.” Koa muttered.

 

“Hey idiot,” Astrid hissed. “Put the girl down before you get everyone killed, I’ll give you the beacon when we get out of here.”

 

“You’d leave her to these freaks.” His partner said drawing both his weapons, the bipedal insects drew their staves in response. He turned to the pair of killiks who stood in the tunnel. They had no intention of moving. The first man put one of the girl’s arms over his shoulder and his arm around her waist half dragging her to the entryway. In his free hand, he held an incendiary grenade.

 

“Get ready to run.” He warned his partner, “You two can stay with your friends if you want.”

 

The killiks backed off and the four carefully made their way up the tunnel. They could almost see the light from outside shining down one of the paths when a smaller killik, the size of a house pet wandered in front of them. It stopped and chittered rushing forward toward the taller man’s leg. In a panic, he shot the grub before it could reach his friend.

 

The nest went mad.

 

Koa and Astrid fought back to back trying to make their way toward the light, but several killiks, larger than men, blocked their path. The taller man threw his incendiary down the tunnel, the explosion rocked the tunnel, Astrid lost her footing and fell.

 

Koa heard her cry out and reached for her but a large killik slammed into him forcing him away. The swarm had already killed the other bounty hunters and now they closed on him. They did not know he was Sith, he called on the force and it exploded out of him pushing the giant bugs away. He looked for Astrid and saw her being carried away by a pair of joiners. She struggled against them, her helmet falling off, her eyes met his and she screamed.

“Run!”

 

Koa flung the wall of insects away from him and charged to the mouth of the cave. He shot down the remaining killiks that stood in his path and kept running until he reached his ship.

 

***

 

Remi woke gasping for air, feeling the buzz of a dozen minds around her. It was not a vision, but not a nightmare either. She grabbed her robe and ran to the holoterminal. Scourge followed, sensing the fear rolling off her.

 

“What is it?” he asked feeling a chill, there was only one thing she feared. She shivered staring at the terminal as if it could answer his question. He pulled her against him, wrapping them both in his robe, he could give her warmth if not comfort, they stood and they waited.

 

The terminal beeped and an image of their son appeared.

 

“Mom?” he said sounding young and afraid and not bothering to hide it.

 

“Koa?” Remi said fear gripping her throat, “Where’s Astrid?”

 

“They took her.” He did not need to say more.

 

“The killiks.” She whispered to herself, half guessing half remembering. She shook herself out of her dream into her new nightmare, “Tell me where you are. I’m coming.”

 

***

 

Remi arranged a meeting with the killik emissary. They met in the open on a hillside within sight of a guarded outpost and the cave where Astrid was taken.

 

“Vector Hyllus, Dawn Herald of the Oroboro nest.” He bowed introducing herself.

 

“Remi Syeriy.” She bowed in return. “This is Lord Scourge.” She gestured at the large Sith standing behind her she did not introduce the bounty hunter.

 

He bowed to the Sith addressing them both. “We have heard of your accomplishments.” He hesitated, “Have we met? Your aura is familiar.”

 

“I’ve been to Alderaan before.” She replied neutrally returning to business. She motioned to the tunnel entrance. “Shall we?”

 

The group made their way to the cave. As they walked, he explained the situation.

 

“Our newest joiner has been selected for a unique honor.”

 

“Astrid.” The Jedi corrected without inflection.

 

“Few joiners have the mental capacity and will of Astrid.” He said using her name to appease the Jedi. “Someone of her caliber can fill a special role within our nest, she will become the Night Herald.”

 

“And what does that mean?”

 

“The Night Herald is the protector of our Queen and the keeper of our darkest secrets. It is a great honor.”

She turned to look at him, but did not stop moving forward, “We’ll see.”

 

He brought them to a chamber deep within the tunnels. Astrid waited for them calmly before a giant insect, a creature so massive only part of her was visible, the rest lay in the caves, the Queen of the nest. Beside her was another joiner, older, bent, she was the current Night Herald, and she was dying. Astrid smiled in welcome.

 

“Astrid?” Remi asked hesitantly. Her eyes were no longer that of the young woman Remi had practically adopted, her eyes were like a starry field of night, her expression calm, and Remi felt no fear or anger from her, only peace.

 

“We were once known as Astrid, we are to be the Night Herald of the Oroboro nest.” She answered serenely. “We know why you are here, we have heard the Song of the Universe, and we never wish to leave.”

 

“She is happy here. The peace she knows is not unlike force meditation.” Vector added gently.

 

“I want to speak to Astrid, her testimony now is that of someone still under the influence of a drug.” Remi said flicking her gaze from the Queen to Astrid to Vector, addressing anyone who could grant her wish.

 

“The one you knew as Astrid is no more.” Vector answered sympathetically.

 

“I’d know if that were true,” she said without elaboration, “I have heard the pheremonic bond can be suppressed. Teach her how.”

 

“That will be difficult, it will take some time.” He said surprised that an outsider beside his wife had heard of such a thing.

 

“Few joiners have the mental capacity and will of Astrid.” She said dryly. “Do it, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Vector communed silently with the future Night Herald. She seemed uneasy at suppressing the bond but they encouraged her to do so. Only the elder Night Herald protested silently, but she knew it would be no use.

Astrid’s eyes cleared and she became aware of her surroundings, she whimpered softly as she looked around the chamber, confusion and fear sharp on her face. She found a familiar face, the golden eyes of the woman who had been the only mother she had ever known. She threw herself at Remi.

 

“Mommy!” She screamed desperately.

 

Remi put an arm around her protectively and drew her lightsaber with the other, she felt more fear coming from the young woman than even she would expect. “Hold on sweetie.” She whispered. Astrid could no longer stand, the force of emotions and memories were too great. Remi addressed the chamber, the Sith and the bounty hunter had also drawn their weapons. “What did you do?” She demanded. Vector began to speak but the elder Night Herald interrupted.

 

“The nest remembers everything, but some memories are too terrible to share. All the pain and agony of the nest, we, the Night Herald, remember that.” Vector looked surprised, he had not known. The Night Herald smiled at him, “We ensure that nothing mars the beauty of the song, but it is hard, we don’t last long.” She looked down at Astrid who hugged herself rocking back and forth on her heels. “She is strong of mind, the song of the universe will help her hold the memories. Without a Night Herald the memories return to the nest, and the nest will frenzy. Millions will die and not just killiks.”

 

A vast number of killiks surrounded the group, “I understand,” the Jedi said facing the queen, “But she doesn’t want this and I won’t let you have her.”

 

“Take them all,” the Queen chittered but her words were communicated silently to the nest, “The injured will be tended to and transformed, the dead will feed the larvae.”

 

Remi could not fight at her full capacity, she was forced to pull Astrid with her and protect her from being retaken. Their progress was slow, but they fought fiercely for their lives and each other, it would take time but they would escape. The Queen sensed something about the group, a commonality between them except for the girl. She scented the boy, the bounty hunter, he belonged to the Jedi and the Sith.

 

“Focus on the boy.” The Queen ordered and the nest swarmed. He tried to fight them off, and the Sith tried to help, but their numbers were overwhelming and they captured him. A large killik threatened their new hostage with a spear. It screeched at the Jedi and she held up her hands, the terror plain on her face.

 

“Wait!” She yelled with voice and Force. The fighting froze and she looked back at the Queen and the Night Herald. “Take me. Let them go and take me.”

 

The killiks withdrew slightly except for the ones that held her son. The Queen and the Dawn Herald regarded her with interest.

 

“I’m a Jedi, I’m strong of mind and you will find no better protector among joiners. Just let them go, all of them.”

The Queen nodded acceptance, the killiks let her son go and withdrew to a safe distance.

 

“Remi,” Scourge spoke for the first time, but he did not have the words to change her mind.

 

“Get our children to safety.” She said in a tone that would allow no argument. He walked to her position, and met her eyes. The rage and pain in them matched his own, he touched her cheek softly, then bent to pick up the girl who huddled at her feet. He turned without another word, heading up the tunnel, his son following cautiously behind. They waited, frozen in place, until Scourge called.

 

“We are safe.” He said, his voice betraying the emotions he held tightly in check.

 

“I’m sorry.” She said, wishing there had been a better way to say goodbye, she pressed her fingers to her lips unable to speak, and he covered his heart with his hand. She closed the connection before she could lose her nerve. She returned to the chamber and faced the Queen, they gave her a small bowl filled with a milky white substance.

 

“This membrosia is stronger than usual. The process will be accelerated.” Vector said then added, “We are sorry,” he spoke softly though he knew the rest would know. “We did not know what the Night Herald faced.”

 

“It’s alright, Vector.” She managed a smile. She knew what it was like to be torn between two worlds. “I understand.” She drank from the bowl, it was sweet but not sticky as she had expected. The room grew brighter as it affected her senses, and she heard sounds not unlike music. The chittering of the Killiks became voices, not just voices but singing, they all sang to speak, and it was beautiful.

 

The hive began to absorb her memories even the ones she had forgotten, her parent’s death, her first Master, her first kill, her time as a Jedi. They rejoiced in her triumphs and wept with her defeat, they added her song to their own.

 

Vector smiled at the familiar aura, he did know her, Hunter Grey, but the thought made him wary a dissonant chord in the song. Hunter Grey was not known for giving up so easily. The woman turned to him amid the chaos of the song, it should not have been possible for a new joiner to be aware of her surroundings, but she looked at him as her golden eyes filled with the ink of night and for a brief moment, they flared red.

 

The song filled with a vision of a man with the eyes not unlike theirs, but where their eyes were fields of stars, his were the black of the void. His memories were her memories and hers became theirs, but his thoughts held nothing but nightmares.

 

The nest recoiled at the horrors he caused, they screamed at his desire to consume everything, and they despaired at his wish to turn the song to silence. The Queen moved to save them and pushed the woman and her cursed mind away.

 

Remi’s eyes cleared as she regained control of her mind, and though she was triumphant, her heart wept at the loss of the song. She surveyed the Killiks, still stunned from the small fraction of her memories they absorbed. The Night Herald, accustomed to such pain, spoke.

 

“You would have made a perfect Night Herald, but the nest would not have survived your joining.” the Killik said her voice part wonder part sadness. “As Night Herald we are equipped to hold such memories, but they wear on us, we die sooner, age faster, we do not survive more than twenty years.”

 

“Astrid would have suffered the same fate.” The Jedi’s aura flared angrily.

 

“And now millions will die when we do.” The Night Herald sank to her knees in defeat. “Go now, before the others wake.”

 

“No,” Remi approached the aged and dying joiner. She knelt and touched her brow, their eyes met black to gold and once more, their minds were one.

 

***

 

Remi hovered in a mist of darkness surrounded by translucent joiners of every species she had ever seen and some she had not.

 

“Why have you come?” A young woman with golden hair and a heart shaped face asked. She was the Night Herald as she would have been had the memories not destroyed her.

 

“I can heal you, and I can teach you, if you let me.” The Jedi answered.

 

A murmur echoed through the assembled crowd, Remi realized that these joiners were all the Night Heralds that came before.

 

The woman tilted her head regarding the Jedi suspiciously. “Such knowledge always has a price, what is yours?”

 

“Forgiveness,” Remi said with an embarrassed smile, “I did not offer myself to you in good faith.”

 

The assembled joiners laughed. The lead Night Herald smiled, “The Killiks do not know forgiveness, but we understand survival and protecting the nest, however small. There is nothing to forgive.”

 

“And a promise to give the next Night Herald a choice.” Remi looked around at the group, “You will have more time to search, and this life is not for everyone, not even every joiner.” They murmured as a touch of fear ran through them but the lead Night Herald nodded, even the Dawn Herald was given a choice.

 

“We accept your terms.”

 

The Jedi smiled and reached for the joiner’s ghostly form, “Then take my hand.”

 

***

 

The Jedi sighed as she removed her hand from the Night Heralds brow. The woman had not been fully restored, but her body was healthier, her face was less aged, and she was no longer dying. The killiks had recovered and watched her help their guardian, uncertain of what would happen next, when the Night Herald stirred they understood as one, and knew what the Jedi had done for them. She stood bowing to the Queen knowing the entire nest would keep the word made by one.

 

She walked slowly almost reluctantly up the tunnel to the outside. The cave felt familiar though she had never been there before that day and as she reached the moonlit surface, she heard the chittering whispers of the killiks below and for a moment, she heard music.

 

***

 

“But that story had a happy ending, and the Night Herald wasn’t scary at all.” One of the young joiners complained. The others nodded agreement. Finally the boy looked up at Vector, the Dawn Herald smiled slightly at their disappointment. “So what’s the warning we’re supposed to learn?”

 

Vector grew serious, “The warning is that there are people in the galaxy with memories worse than even we can imagine.” His features grew shadowed and dark, the stars in his eyes winked out until there was nothing but void. “And we must be ever careful of whom we join.”

 

 

 

 

Note:

 

 

I made that stuff up about Night Herald because of this quote on Wookiepedia:

"And everyone knows the Night Herald is just a myth you tell the larvae to make them regurgitate."

―C-3PO translating Killik speech

 

So yeah... for the Oroboro nest Remi is the bogeyman.

 

Remi stuff.. the memories part is part of the Remi the Grey story. <_< I forget that I spoiler my own stories.

 

 

 

 

@iamthehoyden too funny though someone should remind Balkar that they got the job done. That's what Havoc Squad does (still they could have done it without the grime)

 

@bright_ephemera I like that Nalenne helps and those she helps are completely unaware. and Doctor Godera..

JK Ch 3 spoiler

 

 

I worry that Ch 4 will not have anything to threaten entire planets now that he's gone... but I'm sure he has a stockpile of forgotten world destroying weapons so I'm sure it'll be fine.

 

 

 

@Striges ooh Zhorrid,

Agent Ch 2 spoiler

 

 

Is there a way to kill her? I read someone sends you to kill her but I think you need to make a certain path of choices.

 

 

Anyway I really truly wish and I love the way you portray Sha'ra'zaed's reaction to her.

 

@Ereiniel Khem Val is really having it rough lately, I like it

 

@Tatile I like it, Force scientists! Lord Vizloch has so much depth, I just love her.

 

@Magdalane I think it's so sad when two people have to guard themselves, the way they disguise their feelings leads to so many misunderstandings. Glad it worked out for them. but still so sad right now <3

Edited October 28, 2012 by kabeone

[bright_ephemera]

@LogicLoup I just went back and reread/noticed your title for Maneera's short, "Installing Windows to the Soul." This works...every substring of this works...I love it. And all this on top of the very enjoyable story itself

 

@Striges You captured Darth Zhorrid perfectly, and I love the trill and shrill and other assorted descriptions of her vocal delivery. Also, "I see you like your Sith with hot and cold running sanity, Agent"? Kaliyo, I do love your perspective.

 

@Ereiniel A smart servant of a Sith wouldn't do such damage to their master's possessions...but then, that little duo isn't always smart, now are they?

 

@Tatile: Ah, the empirical mindset. Prod at the system. See what it does. Prod at the system. See what it does. Oh, pay some attention to the rock, too, I guess.

 

@Magdalane D: It's so odd to see that time before they get together. But we all know it ends up happy...

 

@kabeone My heart was in my throat for this one. Magnificent. And the Killik mythology is a wonderful idea.

 

@bright_ephemera I like that Nalenne helps and those she helps are completely unaware.

 

Yeah, see, you can't let word get out that the Emperor's Wrath is running around saving people and making the galaxy a better place. That'd just be embarrassing. And as for telling Quinn, well...Nalenne is too busy smashing things sans irritating taskmaster to slow down and think about that mess yet. Yes. In fact, she didn't even do it for him anyway. Nothing worth thinking about. Please pass the Tarisian deathjuice.

[Striges]

@ Magdalane: oh, hugs for Miriah, she so needs them.

 

@ Kabeone: Killik mythology!! Yes! You may have made up what the Night Herald is, but its cool. I like the idea of sequestering memories that way, very interesting. Ironically, I just ran through the Liana Thul rescue a couple days ago and there is an elite Killik Night Herald mob in the cave.

 

Open question to other Agent players: Anyone take the DS option at the end of Chapter One? No spoilers, please, without spoiler tags.

[bright_ephemera]

Open question to other Agent players: Anyone take the DS option at the end of Chapter One? No spoilers, please, without spoiler tags.

 

Agent spoilers:

My husband did it. He has pretty good recall and loves talking about 'the only good storyline in the game,' so if you have specific questions, ask away.

 

[Striges]

Agent spoilers:

My husband did it. He has pretty good recall and loves talking about 'the only good storyline in the game,' so if you have specific questions, ask away.

 

Question: (Agent Ch1 ending spoilers, duh)

 

 

A couple people have asked about killing Zhorrid, which does not appear to happen if you take the LS option at the end of Chapter 1, disabling the Eradicators and opposing Darth Jadus. My Agent took the LS option. For me, Zhorrid disappeared after Chapter One. I can't recall seeing her again.

 

However, I thought I read some dialog wheel options (on Torhead or DarthHater) that seem to occur in conversations among Jadus, Zhorrid, and the Agent. I conclude that if you choose to serve Jadus, taking the DS option and giving him your half of the codes, he either kills Zhorrid, helps you kill her, or at the least gives you the option of killing her. Is this correct?

 

Looks like it also makes Chapter 2 really interesting.

 

Yeah, I'm too lazy to dig around on youtube and find a video.

 

 

Thanks so much!

[bright_ephemera]

Question: (Agent Ch1 ending spoilers, duh)

 

 

A couple people have asked about killing Zhorrid, which does not appear to happen if you take the LS option at the end of Chapter 1, disabling the Eradicators and opposing Darth Jadus. My Agent took the LS option. For me, Zhorrid disappeared after Chapter One. I can't recall seeing her again.

 

However, I thought I read some dialog wheel options (on Torhead or DarthHater) that seem to occur in conversations among Jadus, Zhorrid, and the Agent. I conclude that if you choose to serve Jadus, taking the DS option and giving him your half of the codes, he either kills Zhorrid, helps you kill her, or at the least gives you the option of killing her. Is this correct?

 

Looks like it also makes Chapter 2 really interesting.

 

Yeah, I'm too lazy to dig around on youtube and find a video.

 

 

Thanks so much!

 

Agent spoilers through Act 2:

I also took LS for the end of Act 1 and simply never saw Zhorrid again. My last conversation was the Act 1 one wherein she was wounded and whining about how the Dark Council won't respect her.

 

If you go DS to become the Hand of Jadus, practically the first thing he asks you to do - I believe it's while you're still in the end-of-Act-1 conversation - is to go remove Zhorrid from Jadus's Dark Council seat.

 

It's wicked creepy, too. When you return to Jadus he'll ask whether it's done and you can say "Uh, wouldn't you have Force noticed when your own daughter died?" and he says something like "I would have to feel something toward her for that to happen." I'm not sure whether you see Jadus himself after that point or whether all his quests go through an intermediary, but you do get to deal with Zhorrid yourself. Naturally I read this post five minutes after my husbands steps out the door, so I'll have to ask him about details later.

 

A couple of additional quests happen later on. For instance, on Hoth you get a quest to waylay some kind of close-to-the-Emperor messengers to intercept a missive about the Emperor's plan. Jadus is watching matters. Which is awesome.

 

[Magdalane]

Kabeone, excellent story of the Night Herald. Kinda like Halloween for the Oroboro nest!

 

Here's the follow on to the Disguises prompt, no spoilers, adding Magdalane to the mix and expanding the timeline/story.

 

Worlds Collide:

 

 

Corso watched the multitude of robed figures with intense interest and a little unease. He knew he was to meet his captain’s sister here, but he’d never been Tython before, much less around this many force users, and it unnerved him. He’d heard of Jedi but never seen one before he left Ord with the Peace Brigade, and even then the one he met was a knight. The Captain’s sister was a sage, a healer and a diplomat. He’d seen her on the holo once, and already had an idea of what she looked like. Nothing like my captain, he thought, and remembered the look in Miriah’s silver eyes as she asked him to retrieve her sister from the planet. She was worried, and also excited, he thought. Ever since their kiss on Taris, he’d been tuned in to her, wondering every other second or so where they stood. He’d almost kissed her again last night, he thought, but the look on her face held him back. Never seen her so excited to see someone from her past, he thought, and scanned the robed figures again for Magdalane.

 

Magdalane felt the anxious force signature of the man her sister had sent long before she actually saw him. Mir said he’d be anxious, she thought, and she wasn’t wrong. She smiled as she felt the mix of his emotions, nervousness, curiosity, and then the warm heat of quite another emotion. Interesting, she thought, as she made her way toward Corso. Very interesting indeed. She introduced herself, and Corso shook her hand, his own large, slightly calloused one engulfing her slender one. The jolt of force power had him bliniking his eyes, but the cool calming she infused him with made it easier for him to breathe. He took her bag as they headed for the shuttle he’d piloted down to the surface.

 

As they settled and Corso prepared to fly back to the Stardancer, she studied the young man. Much as Miriah described, she thought, as she observed the quick, sure motions of his hands as he ran through the system checks. It pains me that Miriah still won’t visit Tython, she thought, but I can’t blame her. This world hasn’t always been very pleasant for her.

 

Corso watched the Jedi out of the corner of his eye, still a little nervous and wondering about that jolt of cool something she had when he’d shook her hand. I guess that was force power, he thought, and wondered if she even noticed it anymore. He’d never met someone who was so calm, so serene that even he could feel it. He told her to make sure she was strapped in, then lifted off the surface of the planet, his captain’s home world. Mags felt the quick jolt of passion when his thoughts turned to her sister, but he calmed himself quickly. She waited until he was out of the atmosphere to speak, not wanting to distract him.

 

“So, Corso, does my sister know you’re in love with her?” she asked him, hiding her smile. His quick head turn, accompanied by the blush that heated his face, told her that he was caught completely off guard.

 

“I’ve asked her if I could court her, and she agreed, but she still has all these walls around her,” he finally coughed out, and Mags was impressed that he’d seen those walls. They had more than a few hours to talk, and instead of going head on with this, she instead asked him about his family, his childhood.

 

“I grew up with both parents on Ord Mantell, we had a ronto farm there before the seps killed them, “ he told her, turning his deep brown eyes to her own green ones. “I have great memories of being a child there, the outdoors and the livestock. My parents were great, loved each other and me.” He grinned, thinking of his mother’s smile and his dad’s laugh. He saw the smile on Magdalane’s face, she was feeling what he felt, the warmth and love. He told her several stories of growing up on Ord, of his life. She knew now that her sister had revealed none of her own childhood, and her fears of letting anyone close to her.

 

“Corso, I am going to tell you now of another world, another life, and maybe it will help you see what you face in your pursuit of Miriah. Has she told you anything of how she grew up?”

 

He thought for a minute. “She’s told me she has two sisters, and that she never knew her father, but that’s about all.”

 

“I see,” Mags said, “then you know that she was born a few months after our father was killed in a Sith attack on Coruscant. Our mother left her in the care of our middle sister, Maura, who was not quite four years old, and a house droid when she was a week old. Her childhood was spent trying to win our mother’s love, and even though Maura and I loved her very much, she never got over the fact that our mother abandoned her. She’s faced rejection many times over the years, and eventually she got to the point that she vowed to let no one close to her. It seemed easier for her to bear that way, and she built those walls you see.” Magdalane shifted her long legs, moving her thick robe to get more comfortable, and saw the sadness in the young man’s eyes as he digested her words. His feelings ran from sad, to hurt, and then to longing. Oh, Miriah, you’re so toast, she thought. She let him run through the gamut of emotions, then spoke again. “She has no idea of how unconditional love works, or any love, really. Her feelings for you confuse her, scare her, and ultimately will cause her to run away rather than be rejected if she acknowledges them.” He sat, lost in thought, while she asked the replicator aboard the small craft for tea.

 

“What do I do then? How do I let her know what I feel without her feeling threatened?” He turned his worried eyes to the Jedi, seeking the knowledge there.

 

She sighed. “Are you sure that you want this? Because if she ever gives in, trusts you enough to love you and risk the hurt, she will not easily survive a reversal of the emotions.” She almost held her breath waiting for his answer, and when it came she knew without a doubt he was sincere.

 

“I want a life with her. I love her with my whole heart, and want nothing more than her forever, “ he confessed, and Mags was hit with the power of the young man’s emotions. She hid her grin, and thought, Good answer.

 

“Now, then, my young padawan, let’s talk about what you can do to get my sister to drop those defensive walls.” The rest of their journey was spent with Magdalane offering advice, and Corso eagerly soaking up the wisdom of the Jedi.

 

 

 

Edited October 28, 2012 by Magdalane
addition of prompt

[Striges]

Agent spoilers through Act 2:

I also took LS for the end of Act 1 and simply never saw Zhorrid again. My last conversation was the Act 1 one wherein she was wounded and whining about how the Dark Council won't respect her.

 

If you go DS to become the Hand of Jadus, practically the first thing he asks you to do - I believe it's while you're still in the end-of-Act-1 conversation - is to go remove Zhorrid from Jadus's Dark Council seat.

 

It's wicked creepy, too. When you return to Jadus he'll ask whether it's done and you can say "Uh, wouldn't you have Force noticed when your own daughter died?" and he says something like "I would have to feel something toward her for that to happen." I'm not sure whether you see Jadus himself after that point or whether all his quests go through an intermediary, but you do get to deal with Zhorrid yourself. Naturally I read this post five minutes after my husbands steps out the door, so I'll have to ask him about details later.

 

A couple of additional quests happen later on. For instance, on Hoth you get a quest to waylay some kind of close-to-the-Emperor messengers to intercept a missive about the Emperor's plan. Jadus is watching matters. Which is awesome.

 

Thanks for clearing that up, Bright. I think I'll go ahead and add this quote to my original post, since so many people were asking about Zhorrid. Agent Spoilers:

Zhorrid is a memorable character, and its a shame that you don't get closure with her if you go LS at the end of Act 1. You get whisked off so quickly into the further intrigue of Act 2 and its problems (castellan restraints, anyone?) you almost forget about her. At least until someone brings her up, and then you start wondering.

 

That conversation with her, when she's whining about the Dark Council, is the one with a lot of backstory. It's easy to miss. I think you have to back out and redo it taking nearly all of the options in turn to get the whole story. I did, but then I'm OCD that way, especially when I found one line that gave me a little bit of info.

 

She loved to sing had a beautiful voice once, as a child or young woman, and Jadus brought in voice instructors to teach her. At the end of a year, she gave a concert. It lasted for a long time (days I think she says, but it's been a while) and between her natural voice and the Force she was able to inspire intense emotion in her audience, like nothing before or since. But it ruined her voice. She could never sing again. So, with that little distraction out of the way, Jadus could resume proper instruction.

 

It made some of her lines earlier, about opera and arias, not just creepy-insane but sad as well.

 

When checking some stuff about Admiral Davos for my other story (like his name ) I ran into some dialog wheels with Jadus again. It made me wonder how involved he was in the later story.

 

[Striges]

@ Magdalane: aww, so sweet. Mags is right, Corso is so toast--and I loved hearing a Jedi think that way. And the way she was vetting Corso, then helping him, all because she wanted Miriah to be happy. Very, very sweet.

 

(sorry double posting)

[Ereiniel]

Worlds Colliding

The Advocate of House Girard

Varenne. BH Alderaan spoilers (lots of 'em). 2,600 words.

 

 

Varenne couldn’t believe it had been seven years since she had been back home to Alderaan. Castle Thul’s gardens were in full bloom and the palace spires, unfinished when she left, now almost touched the clear blue sky. She had been a girl of eleven when she had been scouted by, and began her training with, the Mandalorians – and this wasn’t so much a homecoming as seeing her homeworld in a whole new light. When she was younger, the glitz and glamour and underhanded politicking of the nobility had never entered her consciousness, but now, she saw it, clear as the Alderaan day she was currently enjoying.

 

Her enjoyment was abruptly cut short when she arrived at the entrance to the castle extension where her extended Girard family made their home. She had only been here a few times before; she had grown up in the main castle of House Thul, and only came here for big family parties. “It’s always a party at House Girard,” Uncle Heitor loved to say, and it looked like the house was certainly living up to that claim today. A lively party was in full swing as she entered the vestibule.

 

“What are you doing here?” said the guard at the door. He looked down his nose at her like she was some sort of vermin. “We haven’t got any food or credits for you. Please show yourself out or I will have to call the authorities.”

 

“I’m here to speak with Baron Zacar.” Baron Zacar. It sounded weird. Uncle Raffid had died four years ago, but it still sounded odd to her. This also meant that Raf was now heir apparent to the title. Yuck.

 

“Baron Zacar doesn’t associate with the likes of you,” the guard said, looking her up and down with distaste. “Your dirty mercenary lot aren’t welcome here.”

 

“I understand he has need of my services,” Varenne replied, standing her ground and meeting the guard’s gaze, almost challengingly.

 

“His Grace is busy, and will be otherwise engaged for the rest of today. And tomorrow. In fact, for the rest of the week. Now run along, little girl, and take your filth with you.” The guard narrowed his eyes at her and pointed at the door.

 

Varenne snorted. Nobody went by “His Grace” in her family, to the best of her knowledge. It made the guard look ignorant and pretentious, but she was quickly learning to expect that kind of thing from everyone she met here. “He’s expecting me,” she said stubbornly. "I’ve been told that you have a certain Durasteel Duke problem that needs handling by someone with my expertise.”

 

“Ah yes, of course,” the guard said hurriedly, motioning for her to come forward. “Right this way.” He kept himself at a careful distance in front of the dirty girl he was leading into the pristine private back rooms of the house. As he walked toward Baron Zacar’s study, he thought about giving her a towel to sit on, so as not to spoil the furniture. Or maybe he’d offer the door mat to the service entrance. He didn’t want to waste perfectly good House Girard towels. Hopefully Baron Zacar would have the presence of mind not to ask her to sit down.

 

From down the hall, Varenne could hear raised voices.

 

“What is the meaning of this?” came Zacar’s voice. He sounded older and more authoritative than she remembered. Well, he was the Baron of House Girard now, so it made sense.

 

“I just caught this little rake in a dalliance with my wife!” replied an indignant voice Varenne did not recognize.

 

“More like you caught your wife in a dalliance with me, cuckold,” said a third, much younger voice. It could only be that of one person, and Varenne cringed inwardly. Raf. Figures. A dumb twit, just as he always was.

 

Varenne walked into Zacar’s study to find a red-faced House Thul nobleman in Zacar’s face. Raffid stood by with his arms crossed, looking smug. “Unless you want half of House Thul questioning why we continue to keep you riffraff here, you’ll grant me that winter haven of yours,” snapped the nobleman, pointing a finger in Zacar’s face. Zacar’s eyes crossed as he focused both eyes on that one finger.

 

The blood drained from Zacar’s face. “My grandfather’s estate? Are you mad? That’s half my family’s lands!”

 

“Ahem,” Varenne said from the doorway. All three men turned to look at her. “You there. Don’t even think about it.” She flashed them a winning smile as she drew her blaster and shot the nobleman squarely in the chest.

 

Zacar looked down at the dead nobleman, bleeding out the last of his life onto the fancy carpet, and poked at him with the toe of his boot. “Mm. I know why you’re here. But first, let me thank you for this. Your passionate defense of our House is most admirable.”

 

You have no idea, Varenne thought to herself. Some of my favorite memories from my childhood were spent at that estate.

 

“Not a problem. I’m sure you’d have done the same.” Varenne dusted her hands off and holstered her pistols.

 

Zacar waved at the nearest chair, inviting Varenne to sit down. “So, you're the one seeking the Durasteel Duke? Well, I’m afraid the duke and his sister left House Girard some time ago under … unpleasant circumstances. House Girard now has a vested interest in finding the duke and having him meet an unpleasant end.”

 

“I can certainly manage that. Just give me an address and a carbonite freeze gun and I’ll take care of it.” Varenne nodded smartly at Zacar, who made no indication that he recognized her. It was probably better that way – for now, at least.

 

Zacar gave a small nod. “Your quick actions to save my family’s landholdings tell me much about you. I think we’ll work well together. I will give you the authority to negotiate on my behalf and that of my House for the purpose of finding the Durasteel Duke. As such, I name you the Advocate of House Girard, a role of honor.”

 

“Advocate, huh? I kinda like it.”

 

Zacar smiled. It was the first real smile Varenne had seen from anyone on the planet thus far.

 

* * *

 

One week later

 

“Advocate,” Lady Aitalla called, waving Varenne over. “Be so kind as to remove this … thing from my presence.”

 

Varenne surveyed the scene with some amusement. A rather large, balding nobleman in formal attire two sizes too small for him was attempting to propose to Aitalla, who, as it appeared, was having none of it. Varenne couldn’t blame her; the guy was fat and smelled like rancid nerf cheese.

 

Varenne nodded at Aitalla with a devilish smile. “Look on the bright side, tubby – bouncing back is probably something you’re good at.” With that, she grabbed the fat nobleman, whom she vaguely recognized as some distant Thul relation from her mother’s side, by the lapels of his jacket and threw him bodily out the front door, with a heavy thump and a satisfying rip of his clothing at the seams as he tumbled out into the snow. She hoped that it was his pants that sustained the damage.

 

“The nerve of Zacar and my father, treating me like some insipid, simpering … ugh!” Aitalla threw her hands up in the air. This was the fifth repulsive nobleman this week who had tried to get in her pants. “How many more of these absurd marriage proposals must I endure?”

 

Varenne rolled her eyes and looked over her shoulder at the fat nobleman, who still lay face down on the front steps. “You people have a funny definition of romance.”

 

“Romance? Marriage is the currency of politics. It is customary to gift one’s children for favors. Were you marriageable, I think you’d find that there is some distinction,” Aitalla said disdainfully. “But since you’re not …”

 

Varenne had thus far been enjoying observing the way her extended family treated outsiders, but she wasn’t going to stand for this. “Me? If you were marriageable, you wouldn’t be thirty-nine and divorced three times, with a daughter who has no idea who her real father is.”

 

“How dare you!” Aitalla flared. Her face turned bright red and she looked almost sheepish under that veneer of righteous indignation. “How do you even know about that?” she hissed.

 

“I hear things,” Varenne said airily.

 

“You hear things?” Aitalla asked incredulously. “What would someone like you know about people like us?”

 

“Lots of things. It’s all over the HoloNet, for one thing.” Varenne heard a lot of it from Mako, who loved reading nobility gossip on the HoloNet. She wasn’t, however, going to mention what her parents and sisters told her, which was also a good deal. She’d certainly heard lots about that incident from her parents when it happened a few years ago – how Aitalla had been going around with four different men around the time Rhysenna was born, and how the poor girl was sent to Korriban early to get her out of the way since one of Aitalla’s new boyfriends didn’t like children.

 

Aitalla waved her hand dismissively, but she looked somewhat troubled. “None of that’s true. That’s all made up to titillate the masses. Masses like your sort of people.”

 

Varenne smiled inwardly. Most of the gossip on the HoloNet checked out with what her family told her. Her family just gave her more details that the reporters wouldn’t know about. The smile reached her face and she tried to make it look like she was smiling in agreement.

 

Aitalla sighed tragically. “Such is my lot in life. The ladies of House Girard are all destined to be nothing more than pawns in the game of politics, and fodder for gossip columnists across the galaxy. I suppose you should consider yourself lucky, even in your current station, that you are not, and will never be, a member of House Girard.”

 

And with that, she swept out of the room in a swirl of red silk and ivory satin.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later

 

The weekly House Girard Sunday brunch party was well underway. Varenne picked a sandwich off a passing tray, as a nobleman whom she had come to recognize by his outfit as a member of House Cortess poured himself a glass of Corellian brandy from an ornate crystal decanter on the buffet. The nobleman regarded her critically over the rim of his glass, then turned around and walked away, revealing a stylishly dressed Raffid, who was leaning laconically against the door frame on the opposite side of the room. He looked at her appraisingly before walking over and invading her personal space.

 

“You look radiant with the blush of power. Ever considered becoming a baroness?” Raffid asked, his eyes sweeping suggestively over her. “We can skip the ceremony and go straight to the honeymoon.”

 

Varenne put both hands on his chest to fend him off, and took a step backward. She thought she’d seen everything that the nobles were capable of, but this was something else entirely. She decided that now was the best time to reveal who she was; otherwise, he’d be relentless in his pursuit of her, just as it seemed he was with every other woman on Alderaan. “Raf. Do you really not think about anything else but that? First you get caught sleeping with someone else’s wife, and now you’re propositioning me? I won't be surprised if you die of the Rodian clap someday.”

 

The lascivious half-smile quickly disappeared from Raffid’s face. “Excuse me? How dare you talk to a member of the nobility with such familiarity.”

 

“Come on, don’t you remember me? You used to pull my hair, cry when I’d win at hide-and-seek, and put chocolate cake on my chair at the dinner table so I’d sit in it and you could tell everyone I, you know, did a number on myself.”

 

Raffid stared at her, stunned. It took a few moments before he could speak again. “Rennie?!”

 

“… Yeah. Hi, Raf.”

 

Raffid’s face reddened. “Why didn’t you say something before about who you were?”

 

“Because it was too funny to watch all of you when you didn’t know who I was.”

 

Raffid stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I thought you were training with the Mandevillians or whatever they’re called. Nobody told me you were back.”

 

“Mandalorians. I’m back because one of my bounty targets was your Durasteel Duke, and for that I’m one step closer to winning the Great Hunt,” Varenne replied. “It was a win-win situation. I help the family, I win the Great Hunt. Done.”

 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Raffid said, shaking off his initial shock and taking a step toward her. She had certainly grown up to be more attractive than most of the other women he’d dallied with, scuffed armor and well-used blaster pistols notwithstanding. “Have you ever considered becoming a baroness?”

 

“Shut up, Raf.”

 

“It comes with amazing benefits, starting with me.” Raffid flexed in the most manly pose a scrawny eighteen-year-old noble pretty boy could muster.

 

Varenne cringed. Was this really how Raffid got all those random married noble women to fall at his feet? He seemed to get a lot of them, but she couldn’t understand how or why. Nobody sane would go for anything like this. “In case you’ve forgotten, because of mother, I actually outrank you. And because of father, I’m your cousin. But thank you for the kind offer nonetheless.”

 

“You’re missing out, Rennie,” Raffid said in a sing-song voice, continuing to preen. “Think about it this way: we’ll be keeping the Girard line pure. Well, you know, somewhat pure.”

 

“Wow, my family is so delightfully screwed up,” Varenne said, more to herself than to him, unsure of whether or not to be repelled or amused by all of this. “You know, Raf, you sound really desperate when you talk like that. If you think you’re being charming or suave or anything like that, it’s not working. It’s because you think with the wrong head all the time. More often than not, whatever you say is a load of bantha s**t in a Tatooine sandstorm.”

 

“I’m the Baron of House Girard now,” Raffid said petulantly, complete with the pout Varenne had seen so many times since they were five years old. “The women will fall over themselves for me anyway, no matter what I say to them. Watch this.” He raised his eyebrows at her before making his way toward a group of ostentatiously dressed ladies standing in a cluster by the champagne. A few minutes later, he made to leave with two of them, one on each arm. As he exited the room, he looked over his shoulder, flashing her a grin that clearly said I told you so.

 

Varenne covered her face with her hand. He was unbelievable.

 

“Advocate,” said a voice from behind her. It was Aitalla, standing by herself in the middle of the room holding a plate of hors d’oeuvres and a glass of champagne. “I just wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done for our family. Saving our winter estate, dealing with that awful suitor, taking care of the Durasteel Duke for us – I was wrong about you. You’re always welcome here in our house, and I hope you find a nice man to marry someday.”

 

Varenne grinned at her. “Don’t worry, you’ll definitely be seeing me again. After all, I consider myself lucky that I am, and will always be, a member of House Girard.”

 

And with that, she swept out of the room in a flash of durasteel and two spinning blasters.