Shadows of the Galaxy

[CarthOnansi]

Writers Introduction

 

This is the story of my character Raith Durin and his various exploits in the galaxy.It is not the beginning of The Durin Timeline, nor the story to begin it however it is the centrepiece for it. Raith follows his own path up to a point coming from an imperial background (with even further backstory than that) which will be written up in a possible prequel to the "Shadows" Trilogy as I am calling it. This story 'Shadows of the Galaxy' is the beginning of the Shadows Trilogy and the beginning of the second part of Raith's life.

 

Trilogy

Shadows of the Galaxy

Shadows of the Republic

Shadows of the Underworld

 

 

Disclaimer:

Shadows of the Galaxy is intended as the preliminary parts of my main character storyline in Star Wars the Old Republic. Although it contains minimum storyline spoilers beware tha in Shadows of the Republic I follow the designated storyline for the smuggler in The Old Republic so the majority of it will be large spoilers of the story.

 

Although I do make sure to do research into the history and lore behind my characters story (the feasibility and the reality of it happening) I cannot promise everything is completely accurate to the lore, I am trying to focus on making accurate, so any feedback on that would be appreciated.

[CarthOnansi]

Prologue

Part 1

 

Shadows danced along the alleyway, giving impressions in the wall, scattering the little light that ventured along the open corridor. A splash could be heard now, faint but distinct enough to know it was from someone or thing placing a foot into a small pool of water. The shadows showed this figure blurred, but only for seconds as the silhouette disappeared due to the lack of light. Once again following the splash silence ensued. Neither the sound of footsteps, nor that of the city nearby permeated this cocoon of darkness.

 

Then all of a sudden a shot, almost silent but not silent enough that it did not echo and reverberate along the narrow channels and intricate maze that made the backstreets of the city. No longer was there a silence, but a steady heavy breathing could now be heard. The breathing had rhythm, it was controlled, also loud, showing the owner of this noise was feeling the effects of their exercise but not letting it affect their performance.

 

From the shadows the figure breathing heavily now emerged, light sprayed across some of his chest showing glimpses of his tattered apparel. His face however remained hidden but a wide brimmed hat, slightly drooping over the front of his head keeping it in darkness. At his side just visible in the light, smoke was rising from the barrel of his gun. The gun itself looked about as aged as his clothes, it had dents and scrapes all over it, but the handle is what made it unique; it had an emblem on it, and emblem only two people in the whole galaxy carried; an emblem that gave the carrier and the gun a reputation.

 

The person now advanced forward, still with a consistent heavy breathing, his eyes never wavering from his point of focus. He persisted wary and cautious, his boots making little sound. His gaze lay upon an unmoving black object. It lay in a heap on the floor, not moving, no rise or fall indicating any form of respiration. That did not stop from the man keeping his gun raised directly on it, ever cautious and aware of any signs of movement.

 

Upon reaching the lump the man tensed prepared for what was to come next. He slowly moved his free hand to pull the other side of the object over, so as to see what lay beneath its dark cover. He got it to tipping point and it started to move of its own accord. In this instant he pulled back, making sure as to not be near it encase of the worst. However nothing bad awaited him and he was able to look down upon the human that had been lying collapsed on the floor. He inspected closely not wanting to jeopardize his safety by a careless error. However the human didn’t stir, chest not gently rising and eyes open a look of terror embedded on their face; the pupils staring up into his face, almost staring through him. The human was female, of medium build, black hair, black as the surrounding night, and grey eyes, hard and unforgiving.

 

Glinting slightly in the small flickers of light a pool of crimson was starting to form, running in a stream from underneath her. As the man now raised his gun, intent on making sure his job had been completed, he heard a noise, a shuffle ling sound this was followed by shots that rang out around him hitting walls, whizzing in his direction. In an instance he was tensed, ready as quickly as the shots had been fired he levelled his gun and rolled for the nearest cover. The cover he had chosen although not offering the best defence afforded him a view of the alleyway without exposing his own position. Now set up he looked down into the darkness, staring as to see what had forced him into his current situation. However he was oblivious to the other dangers in the alley and all of a sudden he felt a wire dropped round his neck and being pulled back. The woman apparently not as dead as she appeared, was strangling him. He could feel the wire now starting to dig into his neck. He was gradually starting to suffocate; he could feel himself starting to run out of oxygen. All of a sudden in front of him a figure emerged from the darkness, a black ghost along this alleyway of death. Now the man decided to take a risk, he knew he had no chance if he tried to break out of his current lock as the figure would just gun him down.

 

No he decided he would bide his time and prayed that he could stay conscious just long enough for the figure to get close enough. The girl behind him was starting to loosen her grip slightly; she was getting weary from her wound and trying to keep the tension of the wire around his neck. He felt his eyes starting to shut and his head feeling woozy. Then then figure got within range, a gun was being pointed at him. Forcing himself to remain conscious he now used his last available bit of energy to thrust back with his left elbow, straight into the woman’s stomach, winding her. Then in one fluid movement as she dropped the wire and released her deadly grip, trying to recuperate from the crippling blow, the man spun round his left hand knocking the dark figures raised gun hand to the side and brought his right hand up simultaneously. The result left him 180 degrees turned from his previous position, the figures gun knocked aside and his own gun pointing directly at the female.

 

The female now recovered slightly from her winding moved to become upright once again, facing the man their eyes meeting. A look of fright once again spread contagiously across her face as she noticed the gun pointed at her head. A quite bang ensued and so her life ended. She collapsed falling backwards, a bullet hole in the centre of her forehead, eyes wide open as they had been before and her hair swaying gently as she fell.

 

The figure in front directed his head toward her now sprawled body lying across the gutter an almost querying look came from as the figure titled its head. Disarmed now the figure backed away from the man, shocked as much as surprised at the sudden turn of events, the figures partner dead and now a gun pointed at their face. In the matter of seconds from when they had had the upper hand.

 

All too late the figure had realized it was outmatched all the time, underestimating its quarry had cost it its life. Another shot reverberated down the darkened backstreet. A groan followed by a noticeable thud as the figure collapsed to the floor, a bullet having penetrated his abdomen. The man did not even turn around to check, he knew his shot had gone true.

 

He looked on over toward where the second hostile had fallen, clumsily, not that is mattered how he had fallen, he was stone dead anyway. Silence had once again fallen over the immediate area, with only the trickle of sound coming from the city up above and the occasional rodent that found its way from alley to alley. The man now looked back at the insignia on his gun handle rubbed it so wipe off the smudge of dirt that had attached itself and was lost in thought for a second.

 

With the barrel still smoking he holstered his gun and turned around, boots firmly echoing into the darkness, walking away from the two corpses left slumped and crude in the middle of the alley. He now walked with purpose and a sense of satisfaction. His job now done he continued into the black of the night.

[CarthOnansi]

Prologue

Part 2

 

A shadow cast itself into the bar, accompanying the sinister silhouette were matching repetitive thuds; indicating the footsteps advancing in the direction the shadow was cast, into the bar. The thudding came to an abrupt end and the shadow desisted from advancing further into the bar. The sound of the wind could now be heard in the background, whistling its solemn tune, a fitting eerie background for the current scene being played out.

The barman eyed this person suspiciously, untrusting of the dark presence that had appeared abruptly and unwelcome in his canteen. From the look of the being it meant trouble. The atmosphere was tense, neither those patrons in the bar, nor the barman, nor the stranger wanted to be the first to make a move. Through the darkness cast on his face, the stranger wearily eyed the barman and patrons, he could see from their instant reactions to him their rough armament and their intentions.

 

The barman had a gun underneath the bar, something cheaper but effective and not something particularly precise or technical, a shotgun or scatter gun per say, maybe a basic blaster. However the indication was more toward a shotgun or scattergun given that he was reaching down with two hands slightly. His best chance of getting the barman was to try and move his arc of fire, hope the recoil would lose him control of the gun. That was his primary evasion technique, then taking cover behind a table or something would negate any further affects, main weakness; slow reloading time and large recoil.

 

The patrons were the next analysis he made, five of them in total, of which only 3 looked like they had ever fired a gun. The one at the bar looked the most seasoned; probably the most dangerous in the room, he would be the type to have a medium range high power blaster. His focus would be on marks manning him making sure to get any hit, he needed to get him first otherwise his possible skill added to the numbers of the rest of them would catch Raith out. Another leaning against the staircase banister, looked shady, more of a black market dealer than any type of assailant. Of the three on the table playing cards only one looked seasoned enough to be able to shoot straight. Confident this one let his blaster lie on the table, a rookie error, except for the derringer concealed up his sleeve, especially with the close proximity of the area; it would be effective enough to kill. The other two patrons, however looked scared, their cards shook ever so slightly as to give away their fear. Neither carried any weapon that was either accurate, or properly maintained, they were here for the cards.

 

Analysis complete the figure advanced one more, his movement resulted in the slow movement of hands to hips or other areas concealing weapons of the other participants in the standoff. However after taking approximately five more steps into the gloomy canteen the thud of the boots on the floor came to a distinct end. Seconds lasting a lifetime seemed to drift on by, and the wind howled once again, blowing small amounts of sand through the doorway.

 

“I’m looking for a Frevik Osmo.”

 

The room went as quiet as before the question, no one dared move, it was evident however the name was known as almost everyone individually gave some sort of tell, a nervous look or sudden shiver. The dark figure now unclipped his holster and spat on the floor, leaving a small mark. His apparent annoyance at the current situation was evident.

 

“Once again, I’m looking for a Frevik Osmo.”

 

He looked quickly around looking for any additional response to the first. Nothing. Then he noticed on or two eyes start to look in the area behind him. It was obvious to him that there was someone behind him. Now their shadow cast itself over the bar and him.

 

“Well now stranger I don’t think I know you, please introduce yourself in front of these gentlemen. My name is Frevik Osmo”

 

The figure paused, he had been careless, a few months ago he would never had made that mistake, unfortunately for the others in the room they were going to be seriously affected. No matter to him, of course, but it was not pleasing to know ones skills were diminishing.

 

“Name’s Durin, Raith Durin.”

 

“Mr Durin, thank you for making this so easy,” having said that Frevik came closer, until his gun was prodding into Raith’s back. With his free hand he proceeded to remove Raith’s blaster pistol. On the pistol handle however he could feel an emblem, he couldn’t make it out by feeling however and quickly had to look down to get a proper image of the emblem. The symbol was of two wings with what looked to be a blade down the centre pointing upwards. It was sleek smooth and distinctly military Special Forces, little did Frevik know that it was one of only two left in the galaxy. And the owner was just about to earn the right to carry it.

 

Distracted from looking at the gun’s handle decoration Frevik took his eyes off Raith. He had been oblivious the entire time of Raith letting a knife he concealed in his sleeve drop down into his hand, ready for use. Suddenly Raith kicked back on Freviks leg, sending him crashing to the floor as his knee collapsed inwards. Simultaneously after that Raith drew another blaster with his left hand and whipped his right hand with the knife in, back.

 

The result was that the projected knife embedded itself in Frevik’s shoulder, disabling his functionality in the fight, but simultaneously with the blaster in his left hand he shot the bar stool the patron at the bar was sitting on, letting him crash to the floor to daze himself.

 

Again Raith let another knife slide down his arm into his hand, quickly so as to keep his movements fluid. This knife however was bound for the barkeeper and having caught the blade in his hand he flicked it forward releasing it; for it to then plant itself perfectly in the Barkeepers neck, not even allowing him to fire off his scattergun.

To deal with the three at the table, Raith kicked the table as hard as he could, knocking it off balance and spilling drinks, and credits all over the trio, not to mention knocking the middle one off his seat.

 

At this point the majority of the fight had been won; Raith merely had to clean up the mess he had started. The final man that had been in the bar, or rather the stairway banister, had fled obviously not wanting to get involved in the violence, leaving Raith the savoury job of removing the three now collapsed gamblers and the other gunman sitting dazed on the floor.

 

Behind the cover of the now upturned table Raith did a quick survey of the scene; he had the gunman in his sights and the 3 gamblers scrambling to return to the fight, the other side of the table. Raith decided the 3 gamblers would be his priority due to their numbers and the gunman’s state, so he kicked back on the table forcing them back and giving him space to stand up. Then advanced toward the group. The central gambler, with the derringer had it pointed at him, he lay sprawled on the floor drink spilt and chips all over him. There was a look of malcontent in his eye, Raith could see the black muzzle pointed directly at his head. He looked down, time seemed to stand still, however Raith had no intention of letting him take control of the situation. Dropping a third and final knife from his sleeve he let it drop toward the floor at the last second however moving his foot to kick the object. The gambler took his eyes quickly off Raith inquiring as to his actions, he was met with the knife hitting him in the face, not on edge but the handle. The result was a window of opportunity for Raith and he was not one to let it go. He instantly lashed out kicking the outstretched gun arm away and followed through with his foot across the man’s face letting blood spray out of his now bleeding gum.

 

The other two, were to suffer the same fate if they tried anything. One of them was foolish enough, the other merely stared, mesmerised at the efficient workings of Raith. However the middle gambler, foolish enough to reach for his gun, was shot a sharp glance from Raith. The gamblers hand quickly dropped his eyes showing what his body could not, the inexplicable fear that he was about to die. Knowing he would be no further threat Raith turned back to focus on the man now a collapsed heap on the floor. This man however was just as much threat as the other gamblers now; from his pungent breadth his drinking habits were evident, evident enough had Raith known he wouldn’t have wasted the time to shoot the barstool.

 

Finally only Frevik Osmo, his main concern, was left. Judging on the fact everyone in the bar new the name when asked, and the fact the barkeeper had instantly reached for his gun was merely testament to the fact that it was probably a safe house of Frevik’s. Little did that matter now, however he should really tie up loose ends, unprofessionalism could not be tolerated in such a job.

 

Frevik lay, the knife still embedded in his shoulder, his body immobilized with shock; he could only watch helplessly as Raith grabbed him by his jacket, and dragged him out the door into the dust ridden streets outside.