Master Thread - A Collection

Tatile · September 5, 2013

This is the thread I'm going to be using from now on, should I actually write something about Rochester and Broan that can actually be posted on these forums (or should I actually finish anything again ) as well as other pieces. I'll include the things I wrote for SWTAW in here as well (not the NSFW pieces, obviously) and try to maintain some semblance of order. I'll most likely fail. This isn't really for anyone to read because, well, everything in here is old and has been read already. Future pieces will be cross-posts from my tumblr to here, subject matter permitting.

Maybe one of these days I'll write something with Jaci in, or finally get round to making Broan and Amilia the pair of nice Sith being nice across the galaxy, just looking for knowledge and cakes. Anyway...

~*~

(What follows is the main body work from the Short Fiction Weekly Challenge Thread.)

Broan -

Broan grew up on crowded city moon, on the outskirts of Republic space. Crime was rife on this world and Broan's mother worked two jobs just to keep a leaky, cold roof over their heads. Broan adored his mother, missing her terribly when she was working. She died when he was aged ten, leaving him nothing but debt too great to ever be rid of. Before her death, Broan's mother had managed to contact the Jedi Order, in hopes that they would look after her son when she could not - Broan was unaware of his mother's actions, and always slightly resented the Order for removing him before he had time to properly grieve.

Broan's defection to the Empire came as a surprise to everyone - himself included. Lord Vizloch's manner with her injured son after the battle aboard the Absolution made him question what he knew about the Sith and, in a way, reminded him of his own mother.

Rochester -

Being born of high standing as both a human and son of a Sith Lord in the Empire, Rochester has always been bestowed with a great amount of privilege. In his early years, Lord Vizloch had her son home schooled by Imperial tacticians, historians and all manner of thinkers, though she covered his education on Sith matters herself, giving him a healthy knowledge of Sith philosophy and a greater understanding of the workings of Sith than most Force Blinds should usually have access to. Despite his close and healthy relationship with his mother, Rochester did not fare so well with the rest of his immediate family: his father, Grigor, was disgusted by his son's lack of Force abilities; his older brother, Geoffrey, felt threatened by the favour being heaped on Rochester; and his sister, Benedicta, being Force Sensitive, was fully aware of her twin's lack of presence within the Force and, unable to handle the knowledge, turned on him, treating him as less than human.

Their Relationship-

Usually one would expect that an Officer embroiled in an affair with a Sith is doing so either out of fear or to elevate their own standing. While Rochester hardly approached Broan with the noblest of intentions, I cannot say that Broan was entirely innocent either - he latched on to the kindness shown to him by Rochester and, throughout the initial period of their relationship, had an idea of who he thought Rochester was, and did not always see him in his entirety. They rely on each other now, for better or worse, but without proper care and attention they could become mutually self destructive. Broan fears that the passion of his love might one day drive him to do horrible things - his greatest fear is hurting Rochester and Rochester worries that one day his duty to the Empire and his love for Broan might be too much at odds with each other.

At present they muddle on and hope that the galactic war does not affect them.

What follows is the timeline of Broan and Rochester and the people in their immediate surroundings:

ATC -13 to 11:

ATC -13:

Best Day Ever

ATC -2:

Turning Point

ATC -1:

Rites of Passage with the Alternative Perspective

ATC 0:

ATC 3:

ATC 4:

Worst Day Ever/I Love this Bar

ATC 5:

ATC 11:

ATC 12:

ATC 13:

ATC 14:

Food 1

Food 2

Life and Death

Tatile · September 6, 2013

As I said, here are the (safe for forum) pieces I did for SWTAW on Tumblr.

~

For MilaniGrey - The Scientist. Narithia Islingr

There was the clang of metal high above. It echoed through the building and then was joined by another clang, and then another. A cacophony of falling, screaming metal jolted Narithia awake. She scrabbled to her feet, searching for her lightsabre amidst the mounting chaos. A misstep here, a fumble there, precious seconds that could well cost her life. She called to it, following the tendrils in the Force. More than a mere weapon, it was an extension of herself, crafted over long hours and with great pains. Of course, it helped that her favourite crystal was in this one. She stumbled along the warehouse floor, her right leg twisted at an odd angle. Finally answering her, the lightsabre rolled out from under the burnt out husk of a tracked loader. It leapt into her hand. Having it close now made her feel stronger, safer.

Narithia wrapped her damaged leg in the Force, not as elegantly as some who are versed in healing, and reinforced it. When she stepped, her weight did not go on her damaged ankle, and that was enough. She remembered that the door was not far, some small blessing in this nightmare. Time was of the essence and she ran.

It was really rather strange, to run with one foot hitting the ground, the other barely grazing it. Narithia trusted enough in her abilities to not falter and though she felt with every passing second that something was very wrong, she made it to the door. Reaching out with the Force, she grabbed the handle and pulled the door from its hinges. Now was hardly the time for subtlety. The door flew to her, but she threw it aside, careening through the gaping hole and into the corridor beyond.

Where was that stupid man? Of course, Narithia realised, he must have run, he must have been the reason for her being unconscious on the warehouse floor. Never trust a scientist.

There was a noise, great and loud and, unlike anything she had heard before. Metal and cement gave way and fell in one crashing wave. Dust and debris filled the little corridor and knocked Narithia forward. She had to keep moving, there was no telling how stable the rest of the complex was. She shook herself, feeling grit move in the little cuts all over her legs and back. Something else to do deal with, later. There would always be a later. She consoled herself with that thought and kept it in the forefront of her mind: later came, you just need to reach for it. She was running along the corridor, using what little of the Force she could still comfortably access. She was tiring, faster than she thought possible.

What had he done?

In the near engulfing darkness, the Force was the only light she had. The dim outlines of fallen masonry - or were those bodies? - jutted out from the corridor walls and from behind half-open doors. Narithia only just avoided them, her usual cat-like grace reduced to a fumbling need to leave. The noise was still rushing up behind her, like some terrible beast. In truth, she knew it was worse. Animals could be defeated.

She slammed into a wall, bouncing off it and hitting another.

How did she miss that?

Naithia kept one hand to the wall. If the Force was failing her - was she failing the Force? - then she would have to navigate the old fashioned way. Her fingertips brushed over the plaster as she ran. Little bumps and cracks made her feel numb after a while, but still no door.

The noise from the collapse had stopped. Maybe she was deaf now? No. No, the floor was still, it no longer shuddered beneath her footfalls. Still, Narithia ran.

She could no longer picture the scientist's face he had been... human? Zabrak? Chiss? What had he done?

She rounded another corner, this time only grazing her shoulder against one of the walls. The darkness was lifting, shifting into murky greyness. Lumps of shadow covered the floor. These were bodies, Republic soldiers, hired guns and scientists. Other scientists, not the man she sought.

Was it a man she looked for? She could barely remember.

Careful as she could, Narithia picked her way through. With a chill, she realised she did not recognise any of the faces; the insignias were foreign to her.

What was all this?

She had the feeling she had to do... something about the bodies, something important. Trying to remember was like trying to grasp water. Little flickers of understanding: it was important, people would be mad if she failed, but what? Who? It made more sense to leave, leave and come back when she felt better. The floor sloped upwards. That made sense. Did that make sense?

Narithia's calves burnt as she walked up the slope, it was gradual, but seemed to stretch on forever. Her ankle hurt and she could not remember why.

Ah, there was the door. Of course it was there, it had always been there, where else would it be? But, why was she leaving?

"Narithia? Narithia are you there?"

Who? Narithia looked over her shoulder, there was no one there. She stood alone outside of a strange, crumbling building, surrounded by nothing but the still, hulking forms of machinery. The voice called in her ear again; a voice she did not recognise; a name she did not know. She reached up to her ear, feeling a little bit of hard plastic resting there. Instinct told her to push it. She did.

"I forgot."

~

For Obession is the New Black - Velaska

Velaska carefully balanced the rocks atop one another and waited. Nothing happened. Scowling, she returned to her notes. Everything appeared to be in order, but still, she could have made a mistake. She tapped the topmost rock and it fell. Velaska sighed and gathered her data slides. It was time to return to the library and figure out where she had gone wrong.

"Ah, Padawan Velaska, I was wondering where you were." Master Tu'ano stood in the doorway, smiling that serene Jedi smile.

Velaska looked down at her notes and then back at the togruta. She had avoided the morning's practice in favour of her research.

"I have been here, Master, conducting research."

"On rocks, I see," Master Tu'ano pointed to the pile on Velaska's desk, her smile like that of parent whose child has down a simplified version of an adult's task. Velaska could not help but glower and set her notes down, a little sharply and with a little aggression. When Master Tu'ano spoke again, there was a hint of reproach in her voice. "Padawan Velaska, go into the garden to meditate. Focus on the Jedi Code and I will join you shortly."

Master Tu'ano stepped aside and indicated to the open door. Velaska obliged, albeit begrudgingly. She walked straight-backed, trying hard to keep a sneer from her face. She did not look at anyone as she went to the garden and found the most secluded spot. Sitting cross-legged under a tree, she began to recite the Jedi Code.

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge..." Velaska sighed and leant back onto the grass, rubbing her eyes. "If there's knowledge, why can't I study? Freaking... stupid..." Leaves shifted gently in the breeze and the faint perfume of their flowers wafted over her. This just annoyed her. She took a deep breath, ignoring the pollen that tickled her nose. "There is no passion, there is serenity."

I don't know... how can there be knowledge without the will to know? How can one learn, without passion for the subject or the lessons themselves?

...how am I going to get those damn rocks to sit?

~

For Karanan - Roscoe

Roscoe examined the corset on display. It was good quality silk, but not exactly what he was looking for. The colour was a bit off as well, just a little too pink. This supposed 'retail therapy' was starting to make him feel miserable. He had been in the boutique nearly an hour and had found nothing. He had so far avoided being kicked out, but only through constant flirting and niceties with the sales clerk. He sighed and handed the corset back. The woman smiled, a little curtly and she replaced the corset a little too sharply.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

Roscoe considered a moment, idly looking at a display of plastic, disembodied legs demonstrating stockings. One in particular caught his eye: simple black with a high sheen and cuban heels, the seam picked out in purple.

"Yes, actually," He smiled and titled his down ever so slightly, making his eyelashes look bigger and bringing attention to his eyes. "Those stockings, I am terribly sorry, I missed them before. Do you have anything to go with them?"Subtle and sultry, he managed to twist his words just enough to shift the woman's mood. She blushed, a little flustered, and slipped into the back.

A few moments later, she returned with a plain black box, unassuming, yet with a distinct and purposeful design. She removed the lid and pushed aside the layers of ivory tissue paper.

"Killik silk, sir, this piece is very expensive, but by far our most exquisite."

Roscoe bit the inside of his lip. The corset was simply stunning. Lined in deep purple, with a black exterior that shimmered, rather than shone, it was designed to sit high on the chest. Rigid bones ran to the swept curves of the bottom, each sewn and picked out with the same almost-black purple of the lining. The front was a solid piece, the only being fastenings at the back: two long black ribbons that shimmered purple, tying in the middle. Simply beautiful.

"Might you help me try this on?" Roscoe smiled with flirtatious innocence. The woman, faintly blushing, led him to a curtained corner and pulled aside the velvet drapery. The silk was cool to touch. He was starting to feel better already.

~

For Moodybloom - Rakai

Rakai leapt from her perch, lightsabre angled at the man below. She landed on him with a Force-enhanced thump, her hissing blade cleaving his skull. The bodyguards were quick, but she was faster. One guard lost her pistol - and possibly some fingers - and reeled back. She fumbled for a second and then dropped. Rakai thought nothing of it as she deflected blaster fire. Of course, Andronikos had made the shot, she had asked him to, but why were these others still standing? She sliced through another's arm, surprised to find wiring and metal instead of flesh and bone.

"Upper levels. I've got company. Sorry, doll, you're on your own." Andronikos's voice fades from her ear, just as she begins to sense the bodies on the catwalk above.

She looked around: one man, with one arm, and the last two bodyguards looking a little winded. The one-armed man lunged at her. Though he was taller than her by a good foot, she easily kicked him away. Attempting to take her by surprise, the remaining two opened fire again. Whirling her sabre, Rakai repelled their shots, catching one in the shoulder and then the head. Lightning coalesced around her right hand. Sparks danced across the floor as her anger started to flare. There was a clap of thunder and then constant crackle of unleashed energy. To his credit, the man did not scream and fell in a dignified, if smoking, heap.

Rakai dispatched of the wounded and looked to the catwalk. Flashes lit up the ceiling and the reports of blaster fire echoed though out the docking bay. The body of a fallen foe flopped over the railing, hitting the concrete with a damp thud. The firefight stopped abruptly and her ear piece flared to life.

"All finished up here. What's the plan now?"

Rakai inspected the corpse of the dead merchant. She quickly found her prize: a small, elegant data spike. With great care, she placed into an inner pocket of her coat.

"I have the key; shall we make a house call?"

Adronikos laughed across the channel and Rakai smiled, just a little.

~

For Bright - Hazard

"We are pleased to make your acquaintance," Hazard smiled. The nest hummed in her mind. This man was liked, even if he was unknown. He was a young human and his song wavered around, nervous, with the citrus tang of excitement. Joiners were rare outside of their nest and rarer still in the Imperial home worlds. In fact, only her predecessor had ventured across the galaxy. "We are Dawn Herald, of the Oroboro Nest."

The young man pressed a button on his desk and spoke after a hiss of static.

"Uh, sir? There's a Nest Herald of the Oroboro Dawn to see you."

A heavy sigh came across the line.

"Send them in," The secretary waved Hazard in to the office. His song changed, with faint hints of lavender longing. Hazard smiled at him again, her lekku twitching with 'goodbye'. Admiral Atoka was standing by her desk and closed the door behind Hazard. Her song was so different, so sure and strong. "I must apologise for my secretary. He is of a long and noble line, but I daresay he is a pampered and ignorant little twit," Admiral Atoka motioned to a chair, but did not sit herself. "Please, sit. Your journey must have been long and no doubt exhausting."

"On the contrary, Admiral, we have found the Empire and Her citizens to be most inspiring. The unity here is most interesting to us."

Admiral Atoka's face hardened slightly, her thin lips pulling into a thinner smile. New notes fluttered briefly over her song - the admiral had not appreciated Hazard's observation. Hazard remembered those she had seen; the workers, the toilers, the many with crushed songs and the faint, shimmering glimmer of hope. The nest recalled the Empire's unity and it was far from the equity of the killiks.

"Dawn Herald, you did not come here merely for a chat." Admiral Atoka examined a few data slides on her desk. Outwardly she maintained an appearance of indifference, but hints of curiosity played in her aura.

"We have come to speak and... to find someone."

Admiral Atoka sat, finally. Her aura and song were now awash with apprehension and anger. She clasped her gloved hands in front of her and focused stern eyes on Hazard.

"Speak."

~

For Elbywoggit - Helesita and Elby

"New dance routine!" Helestia threw open the door to their shared room. The metal slammed loudly against the wall, before slowly sliding back into place. Elby jumped, reflexively coalescing lightning over her fingers.

"Could you not?"

Helestia proudly waved the datapad as she strode into the room. She was a little drunk, hence her somewhat cheerful demeanour. Elby stood next to her chair, one hand gripped tightly on the back, the other now a glow with crackling energy.

"I can dance, you can study." Helestia waved her perfect red hand, a little blood stained, dismissively and attached the datapad to the holofeed. Elby dropped back into her chair and silently seethed.

Ancient texts, written by old men who hated punctuation, covered her table. She was absorbed and aggravated by them in equal measure and it did not take long for her to notice she was reading the same sentence five times over.

"Helestia! Turn that down!"

Helestia, still drinking, was half-naked and dancing rather poorly with a hologram version of herself. She waved her near-empty bottle at Elby, nodding that she should join in.

Elby pursed her lips together. She drummed her fingers on the back of the chair. She toyed with the ends of her lekku. Lightning crackled around her hand one last time and shot off at her roommate. Helestia instinctively blocked the attack. The last of her vodka rained down in molten glass and soaked into the carpet.

"You b*tch." She threw away the remains of the bottle.

"I've told you: no dancing in my room." Elby called upon more lightning, wrapping her arms in energy.

"Our room." Helestia braced herself and pushed. A wave of Force sent Elby backwards into her desk. She caught her lekku against the metal edge and howled. Lightning shot indiscriminately around the room.

~

For T*rdchops - Kyoht

"Stars, look at those big blue eyes."

"Yeah, definitely on the spice that one."

"No, her? She's too..."

"Thin? Pale? Sickly?

"I was going to say pretty, actually."

Kyoht shot the guard an angry, ecstatic smile. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, with her arms bent painfully against her jacket. The younger one, the one who thought she was pretty, backed away, looking a little unsettled. The one with the tacky moustache kicked her in the ribs. She grunted. That hurt.

"Don't trust that lot. Spice heads are nutters." ****-stache grabbed her under one arm, motioning for Rosy Cheeks to do the same. They hauled her to unsteady feet. Kyoht's head rolled back and she laughed a little manically. A happy little voice danced in her head: they made a mistake. One hand under each armpit was more than enough advantage. She kicked ****-stache in the crotch. The plas-steel in her heel went straight through his cheap armour. ****-stache fell with a squeal.

"Uh, guh..." Rosy Cheeks fumbled with his blaster, getting it stuck in the loop of his belt. He almost shot himself in the foot. Kyoht put him out of his misery, with a well-timed head butt to the nose. Both men lay on the floor, ****-stache grunting and crying, unable to do anything. Rosy Cheeks was well and truly unconscious.

With a clicking, clacking pain in her wrists, Kyoht managed to wriggle one hand around at pick at the lock. The cuffs bounced off the concrete behind her feet. She kicked ****-stache in the ribs for good measure. She pocketed their keys, I.D. badges and various crappy weapons before cuffing the men together. ****-stache mumbled a few curse words she could barely make out.

The communicator in her ear crackled to life.

"I can you in now." Kyoht walked off to the entrance with a swagger, feeling rather pleased with herself.

"Was that really necessary, boss?" Mako was starting to sound more tired than concerned.

"It was fun."

~

For Starrypawz - Ashvara

Ashvara adjusted the dress she wore, finding it just a bit too clingy in places. The man across from her grinned, thinking she was showing off. She smiled back. He started to talk about little nothings and recent events. Ashvara let her mind wander for a while. She hated this side of the job and played up her awkwardness as a result. Her target was a fan of terrible romantic-comedies, it seemed, and as such had fallen head over heels for a clumsy, shy and yet brilliant woman. A woman who did not exist.

The food was free. He was paying. She pitied him that. There was money enough in the operation's budget for dates, but he had insisted that the meal and dancing be his treat. Accepting, though with hesitation and some embarrassment, had been part of the act. It was what her character would do. She had learnt things, of course she had, that was the point of it all. She knew all of this man's little secrets, the ones he had shared and the ones he had not. Ashvara knew about his many hidden bank accounts - the ones that not even Intelligence had found, and she was now going to learn just how he hid them.

The man reached across the table and ran his thumb tenderly, almost lovingly, across the back of her hand. Ashvara jerked away, genuinely surprised. She recovered quickly, hiding a small laugh behind her hand and playfully admonished him. His smile broadened and his twinkled and shone.

Oh, that this could end some other way, she wished.

~

For Kabeone - Seth

Mum had me propped up in the chair, strapped in and pointed at the dials. Everything was covered in shining lights! What can I say? I was five and this just looked amazing. I reached for a couple, but I was strapped in pretty tight. Mum was laughing, she seemed happy. She was never usually that happy around me, so it was nice. I'm not saying she didn't love me, it's just... I don't know... melancholy?

Anyway, she grabbed my little, tubby arms and guided my fingers to the flight controls. She started with the basics, of course. This one was 'go', that blue one was 'stop'. The purple one was the 'I'm stranded in the middle of nowhere, help' beacon. That one was for fooling the authorities. The big red one under the dash was the 'oh stars, the engines are failing' beacon. We never had to use that one.

There was a joystick as well, one of the dual-pronged ones. That was left and right, up and down. Mum let me play around with that. Of course it was hard to tell up from down in the vacuum of space, but I had fun.

We went around like that for a while, until I had to learn the hard stuff. Like fuel consumption. Engine wear. How to dump cargo into a gravity well or on asteroid, and how to tell which was the better option. It was nice. Mum was happy, I was ecstatic, felt kind of like I belonged.

Dad taught me how to fly in-atmosphere. By the stars, that was something else. A terrifying something else. Yeah, you can caught too close to a sun, but nothing quiet compares to free-falling into a planet. Having to battle against wind resistance, weather patterns, electromagnetic fields, all in a place where up is up and if you go too far down, well, there's no more down. My heart always did little flips whenever we landed."

"Does it do little flips now?" Vette smiled at him over the lip of her glass.

"Yeah, it does." Seth smiled back and leant in to kiss her.

~

For Ezroad - Ez and Ashroad (pic for reference)

"Ashroad, move." Ez lowered himself down, stopping an inch from Ashroad's face.

"No. I need to do my weights," He lifted the dumbbell to his shoulder and then easily set it down. The motion brushed his arm against Ez's side. "See? It's hard."

"There's loads of f*cking space." Ez did another press up, this time lowering himself fully. Ashroad squirmed a bit beneath him.

"There's loads of f*cking space." His breath washed hot over Ez's neck.

"You f*ck-arse w*nker." He couldn't help himself, and started to attack his husband's neck with his lips and teeth. Ashroad let out a triumphant chuckle and wrapped his legs around Ez's hips.

Exercise would have to wait for today.

~

As Milani wants a continuation of amnesiac Narithia, that'll be my next project.

Tatile · November 4, 2013

Lord Vizloch (here as Sylvia), her daughter Benedicta and unnamed ex-slave new apprentice! Hooray!

"Mother," Benedicta stood, her heart pounding, one end of her lightsabre blazing, at the entrance of the tearoom. Servants scuttled and scurried, tripping over themselves in a dignified attempt to flee. Heavy curtains, parted to let in the weak spring light, smelt faintly of dust and her childhood. The colours of the carpet, the cushions, the upholstery on the chairs, all were fresh, new. Recently replaced. Like her. Mother had a new daughter now, after all. Not even a human, but some zabrak slave, with contrary orange skin and the faint hint of the foreign. Dressed in an apprentice's robes, she was sitting, drinking tea and eating cake, like a human. Like Benedicta. "Mother."

She took a step forward, bright orange blade hissing in the air, a colour match for the stranger-girl's skin, a siren call and a destiny. She took a step forward, the new carpet springing back under her foot, a comfortable cushioning of a life of which she was no longer a part. She took a step forward, eyes bent on her mother, the woman who never loved her, who never gave her a first glance let alone a second. She took a step forward...

"Put that down, Benedicta," and she stopped. Because mother spoke and mother knew best. She held the sabre in her hand, feeling the course of energy through her, into her, filling that orange light with her anguish, her rejection. "We shan't have anyone hurt over tea."

"Mother," Benedicta breathed, deep and angry into her chest. She filled her lungs with the fresh scent of flowers, damp after rain, finding no peace in her mother's symbolism. "This insanity of yours stops, now."

Sylvia blew the steam away from her cup, watching the little puffs of ghostly grey playing in the light. "What insanity, Benedicta: my research? To understand the nature of the Force and how best to use it, how best to wield it? Is that what you call insanity, or is that what has filtered vaguely down from your masters?"

"Your findings should be weaponised, or you should use them for strengthening the Empire-"

"Now, Benedicta," Her cup placed ever so gently back on its saucer, with barely a clink of china, Sylvia lent back in her chair, giving her daughter her full attention. "I do know these are not your words, so shall we stop pretending?"

"You know nothing..." A hiss between clenched jaws. Like an animal cornered, Benedicta raised her hackles, and crackled in the Force, as she returned to her defensive position.

"I know you, Benedicta," Sylvia lent over the arm of her chair, mahogany wood disappearing beneath the dried blood of her dress. "I know your anger, your hate, the length of your stupidity and your stubbornness," Benedicta brought her sabre across her body, readying to block against a verbal assault. "I know your fear, how far you will go to avoid failure, to stick with only the things you know yourself to achieve, to never challenge yourself in case you fall. I know you look to the things you are told to like, rather than experience disappointment for yourself. I know your reasoning and your logic. I know you better than you know yourself."

Yes I was experimenting with style, however could you tell?

Master Thread - A Collection

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