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Monthly RP "Chapter-lets" Challenge, BC-Style


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JUNE 2015 SUBJECT: A personal source of regret or shame, for your character.



What is this? Well, RP extends beyond the boundaries of in-game expression; there are elements of one's backstory and capacities that will inevidebly not find workable manners in which to be shared, in-game.


That said, yours truly found an old RP section of the forums that was moderated by the devs, until 2012. While that still operates, it is now done entirely by players - but yours truly isn't all that interested in what off-server SWTOR players have to share, RP-wise.


As such, as a pet-project, yours truly presents here - as of February 2015 - a monthly "RP 'Chapter-let' Challenge", open to all members of Server Begeren Colony; At the start of each month, this thread will be updated with a new subject, intended to provide participants additional opportunity and context in which to express and share additional elements of their RP, with other interested members of the community. Previous months' challenges are found at the bottom of this initial thread, and are subjects you may still write, upon.





1) Your 1st post in this thread should be as short as possible, giving a brief description of the character you will be presenting here, in your "chapter-lets"


2) After your initial description, make a 2nd post, containing your chapter-let: a self-written excerpt, as short or as long as a single reply-thread will allow





After a time, yours truly hopes this thread will have regular subscribers, who will visit and read your chapter-lets, and offer critique via a reply that will rate your work. Any such replies should include, on a scale of 1 to 10:


Readability....How read-able was your chapter-let? How was the grammar and sentence-structure?


Detail.............How detail-oriented was this work? Be fair, as these chapter-lets are not intended to be full novels


Pace..............Did the pace of what happens proceed pleasingly? Did events occur too fast / slow?


Format...........Were the paragraphs and sentences too long / short? Were thoughts separated enough / too much?


Uniqueness...Does this seem well-separated from any previous Star Wars lore / story you've seen before?


Then, any notes / comments you'd like to share with the author, about their chapter-let. How did you enjoy the work, overall?


Before the next month's subject is posted, yours truly will go through the reviews, and tally up which submission rated as the best, with the readers. Only serious and decently-formatted reviews will be counted; trolls giving all 0's will not have their opinions counted.



Yours truly will encourage other members of the JEDl-community on our private website to participate, as well. While intended to offer some side-content for Server Begeren Colony, keep in mind that participation in such content can also provide a measure of a community's interest, in RP, to on-lookers.


Good luck, and good writing!






FEBRUARY 2015 SUBJECT: Special Skill / Ability of Your Toon


MARCH 2015 SUBJECT: Why your toon possesses the resolve to fight the enemy *or* A moment of doubt about fighting the enemy


APRIL 2015 SUBJECT: First encounter with a to-be Nemesis (an enemy your character will encounter again, in the future; some of the future months' subjects will ask for follow-ups!)


MAY 2015 SUBJECT: Your weapon's origin / inspiration for your weapon's creation


JUNE 2015 SUBJECT: Your character, in a deal gone *BAD*



Edited by Ahl-Vinn
Altering Monthly Theme
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Character: Ahlvis No'vaik


In-Game Class & Role: Jedi Sage / Healer


Guild / Community: <THE JEDl ORDER>


History / Description: A masked Jedi, Master Ahlvis No'vaik is not naturally strong, in the Force; Were it not for the previous war, Ahlvis would not have been taken into the Jedi Order, at all. Never having intimately known his parents, Ahlvis was placed under the tutelidge of an Ilthorian master, based out of the former Jedi High Temple on Planet Coruscant. Off-world when the Sacking occurred, it would later be a great source of frustration and anger for Ahlvis to have not felt his master's passing.


Placed with the Medical Jedi, Ahlvis originally resigned himself to a life-long fate of being an assistant to more-talented Jedi Healers. However, on a scouting mission during the construction of the new Jedi High Temple on Planet Tython, Ahlvis made the discovery of an ancient an un-finished project from the Force Wars, a project aimed at artificially attaining greater levels of Force-affinity.


Refining the ancient work, Ahlvis's life's work created and he now breathes a nutrient gas mixed in with his oxygen supply, that allows a Force-user greater utilization of the metachloriens in one's blood. However, this bolster to Force-affinity comes with a price: every dis-continuance of usage of the gas yields a greater level of immunity from it's benefits; the gas should be breathed, continually. Also, Ahlvis's nutrient gas is toxic; while there is a safe level of it that is normally breathed and filtered by the lungs, the concentration can be increased in emergencies - but increased concentrations will begin to fill the vital organs with a unique poison that can take weeks, or even months, to filter out of the organs.


Full of regret and resentment, Master Ahlvis will make any sacrifice and betray any trust, to see the Sith Empire fall....




Edited by Ahl-Vinn
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As hard as the cold, subterranean wall of earth behind him felt, the massassi spear found found strong root in it - little less than half a meter to the left of the jedi's head. Ahlvis was unworried, having seen Meucela roll under the sideways swipe of her towering opponent, only to go into a roll towards the backside of the red-skinned giant whose attention was fixed upon himself. The cathar had lost her mainhand lightsaber early in the ambush, but was now making full use of her offhand shoto blade; an awkward but strong upward arc of Meucela's yellow-bladed weapon claimed the left leg of Ahlvis's attacker. The massassi cried out in a guttural expression of pain, and collapsed onto it's now leg-less side. The cathar stood and spun around, to return to facing her opponent. Ahlvis pushed himself off the wall, finally able to breathe after the powerful kick that had sent him into the tunnel's unforgiving side.


Glancing down the other direction of the tunnel, the jedi master could distinctly see the erratic swings of Kel'studa's double-bladed lightsaber illuminating her two opponents in the dark tunnel. The purple light against the red of the massassi's skin made them appear only only a few tints of black lighter than the darkness that pervaded the underground route. Were it only the three-and-a-half massassi remaining (Ahlvis knew from his medical experience that the one-legged massassi was about to lose consciousness from the very sudden change of blood pressure), then he would not have reason for concern; the two allies he'd selected for this mission were well-versed in combat, even against much larger foes. However, the Force allowed him to feel anywhere from six to eight additional bio-electrical energies coming from the direction that they had intented to go.


While likely not in earshot's distance as of yet, the reinforcements would no doubt tilt the battle in favor of their enemies.


"Little help, here!"


Ahlvis returned his attention to Meucela, whose opponent was wielding a giant spear in one hand, and a rather wicked-looking dagger, in the other. Well-adorned with more decorations upon it's armor than the other Massassi in the tunnel, the cathar's opponent this was no doubt the group's leader. Ahlvis extinguished his own green saber, and allowed it to drop to the ground. Outstreching his arms to either side, he found an axe and another spear, dropped from the first two massassi the jedi group had felled, earlier in the ambush. Bringing his hands together, the two weapons flew at the chieftain from either side. The axe's bite into it's abdomen might not have been so bad - but the spear's point found the massassi's heart. The lumbering opponent struggled to remain standing for just a moment, but the effort was in vain. It fell, face-first, into the moist dirt of the tunnel's floor.


Ahlvis called his saber to return to his hand, re-igniting it's blade as Meucela ran to join Kel'studa's side. The jedi shadow leapt to the left, dodging a strongly-thrown spear that then also nearly found a mark in the cathar. One of the massassi had resorted to wielding a short-hilted axe in one hand and a large sword in the other, while it's ally stood short distance to the rear, to better aim spear-throws. The master could sense concern rising in the blonde-haired woman. No doubt that Kel'studa, too, could now sense the additional group rapidly approaching from further down the tunnel.


"Are you SURE about going this way?" Kel'studa demanded, in an urgent shout.


The massassi to the rear was taking aim with another spear, waiting for the alignment of it's ally and the two jedi held at bay by it to be off enough for a clear shot. Ahlvis spotted this and extended his free hand towards the massassi. The electrical signals of the half-sentient's brain were easy enough to read; the jedi master needed only to listen to find the impulse that matched the throwing of the spear.... There!


Ahlvis effected a pre-mature firing of the impulse. At just the wrong moment, the massassi loosed it's spear - right into the back of it's ally. The gored massassi yelled in pain and dis-belief, dropping it's sword to reach for it's impaled backside. Kel'studa closed the gap and swung one way, then the other with her double-bladed saber, taking both of the creature's legs. Meucela turned and spun from her place at Kel'studa's side to stand directly behind her. The cathar - with agility rarely possessed by other species - lept first to the jedi shadow's shoulders, then decended with a corresponding downward arc of her yellow blade.


Seeing it's ally fall, the remaining massassi turned and fled towards the guttural shouts of the approaching group from behind it.


"I'd normally Force-pull him onto my blade," Kel'studa began, between rapid and heavy breaths, "but I don't think I'd be much use, if I end up pinned underneath the thing." Ahlvis raced to think of an option, trying hard to ignore the exhausted breathing of the shadow and the sentinel. The massassi would soon converge upon the group, unless they fled. "Well? What's the plan?!"


"I just need a moment," the master replied, his voice slightly muffled by the rebreather mask that covered the lower half of his face. He extinguished his saber again, and replaced it on his belt. Reaching up to a small nozzle on his mask, Ahlvis pressed a small release button, that would allow the nozzle to be turned. Kel'studa and Meucela kept their stances and weapons pointed down the tunnel towards the as-yet unseen group, though their gazes were turned upon him, for instruction.


Kel'studa raised a dirt-caked blonde eyebrow, but Meucela had seen the jedi master do this before. The cathar knew it was extremely rare for the man to make such a sacrifice, and wondered briefly if the master would be able to finish the mission, given the after-effects.


Ahlvis exhaled, and turned the nozzle a couple of times. Upon his inhale, Kel'studa's other eyebrow immediately raised to meet it's twin. A great difference in their affinity for the Force suddenly arose, and the shadow resisted the urge to turn her purple saber towards Ahlvis. The master focused upon the protruding roots of the trees visible along the tunnel's roof and sides, and began to direct the Force to artificially nourish these roots.


The massassi came running down the tunnel, a single primitive lantern guiding their path. The holder of the lantern-on-a-stick cast it aside in favor of a weapon, and the group dashed for the jedi.


"Hold, here," Ahlvis instructed, calmly. The two did, though a nervousness pervaded Kel'studa's emotions.


"Whatever you are going to do --"


"Hold here, Kel," Ahlvis re-iterated. The massassi drew closer and closer, intent on engaging in melee, none of them going for their throwing spears. "Hold...."


Ahlvis released the effect, and the roots of the trees suddenly expanded, grasping all seven of the massassi. The feral warriors cried out in their guttural version of a language, though these cries were slowly extinguished, as the ever-thicker roots constricted their throats. Kel'studa watched in trained apathy as their opponents died one-by-one, from restricted airways. The cathar was not of such a strong stomach, though, and extinguished her blade. She hurried to the side of the tunnel, to vomit.


Ahlvis quickly reached for the nozzle on his mask, and returned the nutrient gas in his oxygen to it's normal concentration.


"That's quite the trick -- Master Ahlvis!" Kel'studa extinguished one side of her double-bladed saber, and stuck the un-ignited end into the ground. She rushed to the man's side, as he collapsed to one knee. "What's wrong? What the hell was that?" Not possessing any advanced degree of medical know-how, the shadow quickly removed her glove and contacted the skin of her backhand to Ahlvis's exposed forehead. Their bio-electrical fields in direct contact, Kel'studa sensed for injury. What she found was not pleasant. "Your.... your organs--"


"--will be fine, in a couple of weeks," Ahlvis finished, for her. Wiping her mouth, Meucela returned to Ahlvis's side. "For now, the amount of poison in them is not enough to hinder me to the level that we must abandon the mission." The cathar cast a concerned glance downward at the man, as Kel'studa began to replace her glove.


Meucela examined the tunnel, and a frown began to grow, upon her face. Seeing the sentinel's expression, the jedi shadow turned to inspect the mass of constricted bodies and tree roots. A similar frown came to reside upon her face, as well.


"Um.... Not to be a bother, but now how are we going to get past? I mean, I don't sense any more massassi, but...." Kel'studa allowed her speech to trail off, seeing the grim expression formed by the master's scowl and un-emotional eyes.


"Exactly how you think we are going to get past," Ahlvis responded, igniting his saber, as he slowly rose to his feet.


Meucela dry-heaved. The cathar covered her mouth with one hand, but then quickly decided to return to her already-begun pile of vomit.





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Character: Mo’nos Dôshalo


In-Game Class & Role: Sentinel/DPS:


Race: Human


Guild / Community: <THE JEDI ORDER>


History /Description:


Mo’nos came from a Korunnai society, called a Ghôsh; which was essentially a tribe or family of tribesman and tribeswoman. Those of the Ghôsh had an exceptional origin. It is said that a Jedi space cruiser crashed on the planet during the Sith War, and the Korun were descendants of surviving Jedi, but this was never proven in the ancient datacrons. In addition, the Korunnai also had a higher tolerance to poisons, due to living near the toxic cloudsea that covered the lowlands of the planet.


On planet Harunn Kal, where he lived and was born, there were two powerful tribes: the Dôshalo (uplanders) and the Balawai (downfolk). The Windu and the Kar Vastor (Rostu) where extended families, uplanders from the same Ghôsh which also identified them as Dôshalo which means circle of the same. There was a rich history on this jungle like planet, the Ghôsh being force sensitive and many claimed them as naturals; independent force users that opposed the light side of the Jedi and the dark path of the Sith; because of this freedom, they had become a threat to organized force users. Thus in truth, the Dôshalo had embraced the force as a way of life; their term for the force was the Pelekotan. For centuries the Dôshalo fought against the Balawai. Mo’nos and his people eventually defeated them and fought back the suppression of those from rival Ghôsh’s, who tried to subvert them into choosing a path.


The Sith eventually discovered this knowledge and were intrigued by the uplanders resilience. So they came with their great number and have now converted Harunn Kal into a planet retained by Imperials, renovating it into a destitute sphere now controlled by the links of Sith space; which has left 50% of the planet in utter destruction and unnatural chaos. Sith Lord Dezus and his apprentice Acolyte Neesa, who was once the wife of Mo’nos have now subdued this entire planet. For eight years the Dôshalo had fought back the Sith, but when Neesa turned to the dark side, this tore the heart of Mo’nos and discouraged all hope from his prodigious warriors. The tribes were scattered and Mo’nos and his people were eventually defeated. He was survived by his son, Win’dos and two daughters Xhoza and Hälle, who he rescued from battle and fled with them to Tython for support and fellow discipline from the Jedi Order. Mo’nos is currently being trained by the Order. His children are still aspirants, but Mo’nos humbled himself and has become an honorable Padawan of his Master, Seraphym.



Mo’nos has deep forest green hues, dark and rough, like the jungles of his home planet Haruun Kal. His skin is dark; a milk chocolate melanin that was not too black, thus it was capable of taking in the treacherous sun of Tatooine with ease. He is an older man, with a white rugged beard, wool like hair left short for battle; whose physique had seen a good five decades, still managing to keep a lithe and muscular frame, standing only 6’0; a towering presence over many of his combatants in both mêlée and combat. He wears a tan weaponmaster’s cloak, with fitted pants and wields two lightsabers, his main hand a green crystal and his off hand, blue. His upper throat and neck area is burned a bit from fighting twenty Sith Marauders who invaded his area of defense. He had killed fifteen himself before he used the force to escape the five that were unable to take his life.

(Chapter-let excerpt coming soon!)

Edited by ServerusEcru
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Well-written, though I was unsure if you'd intended "fifty decades" or "fifty years", in providing an estimate of Mo'nos's age.


Good setting for a character's origin, too: one that instills some kind of natural benefit to those who come from it.


Will be looking forward to seeing what your chapter-let is like!




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Mo'nos' Chapter-let For February 2015:


The Bounty


Mercer Gorjec knew that embarking upon any area of Sith space was a great risk, considering his ill-reputation. And not only was it a risk, but an opportunity for the Bothan. He was a Bounty Hunter by trade; also a natural Engineer, one of the finest, birthed from the Mid Rim planet, Bothawui. He once worked for a private group of mercenaries, called the Jaunted Sword; but truthfully and as noble as their name may have sounded, they were nothing but thugs and thieves; criminals who robbed from Imperial, Republic or any factions they could professionally exploit. When a deal had gone wrong, and the Jaunted Sword was found out by their Blood Carver adversaries, Captain Jorthro had made the call to leave Mercer for dead on planet Kothlis as a trade ransom to keep his own life. Albeit, Mercer was a very shrewd Bothan. It was unfortunate for Jorthro that he had made Mercer his Lead Engineer. Which meant Mercer had access to the primary functions that could shut down the hyperdrive and leave them drifting in space. He had the entire memory core functions programmed on his data pad and when he successfully hijacked the merc leader Jorthro’s cargo ship; it was a bargain agreed upon by the Blood Carver Chieftain who accepted his truce if he had fixed his wife’s withered leg. Mercer had crafted a mechanical support for her leg that allowed her to walk again and so he was set free, by this agreement.


Indeed it was a huge trade vessel whom Jorthro once called Sole-Seeker. Some say the ship itself was alive, they say that he had found some way to artificially construct the mind; that it consisted of rare implants forged from organic and AI intelligence. Regardless of what it was, Jorthro was sent back and eaten alive by the vicious clan of Blood Carvers. Afterwards, Mercer not only took possession of Jorthro's beloved ship, but won the heart's of his crew as well. And he no longer called her Sole-Seeker, but he called her Kothlis, named after the planet he was abandoned on.


“Your ambition is far-fetched, Captain. Do you understand the danger that you now put us in?” The Cerean, Mothra said.


She was very tall and needed an extra cushion on her customized ship seats, due to the masculinity of her legs. The others on deck listened, snickering and cursing out words of death and treachery under their foreign tongues. Mercer remained calm and in control; he flickered his hairy ear and took in her words of caution. The Bothan courted his cigarillo and continued to observe the Sith planet from Kothlis’ window view.


“When have I ever been ignorant of danger?” He said chewing the end of his smoke.


Mothra was silent, so many thoughts running through her conduit shaped head. But she was unable to respond before he countered his own question.


“The day we lose this understanding is the day we retire.”


Then the holotransmitter went off. Mercer turned from the command deck and went into the communications room, with Mothra trailing by his side. A black cloaked, Sith pure blood, showed over the holo with his oyster like hues—a pure nightmare to gaze upon. He was silent for a moment as if he was contemplating their very thoughts.


“Who are you?” The Sith alleged.


“Captain Mercer Gorjec, sir.”


“Pardon, who are you?” The Sith slithered.


“I…I am your servant, my Lord.” Mercer said.


“Good. You exist because of me. I made you remember that! I gave you life in this little galaxy you call sovereignty. I gave birth to your very ideals of choice. Now do you have my bounty?”


“Yes Lord Kellis, I have your bounty…I have the Jedi’s.”


“Jedi’s? I told you to bring me back the one.” Kellis sneered.


“Why not have them both, the Master and the Padawan?”


Kellis rubbed his big red chin with a grunt, “Ah yes, you certainly have a mind beneath that hairy scalp of yours. But do not think this will enhance your payment, rat. I offer eight hundred thousand credits and no more.”


"Deal," Mercer said his peace. The Bothan simply took the insults in. Kellis reading that he failed to react on emotion frowned and said his last words:


“Very well, rodent. Bring them down, but know that if you try anything imprudent, I will bury you into the nearest star.”


Then Lord Kellis desensitized from the holotransmitter.


“How do you do that…” She said.


“Do what?” Mercer asked.


“…stay so self-effacing in his presence?” Mothra asked.


“We are pirates not politicians. Let him think want he wants. As long as I am not the one lying face down in his bed, I am fine with being his domestic employer.” Mercer grinned.


Then a big Dantari walked in with the two prisoners chained at the throat. This was Gola, a warrior, ape like humanoid from Dantooine. He grunted out a few words and said Master, letting the two Jedi fall down before him. Mo’nos and his Master Seraphym fell before the pirates. Sera was sedated by some poison, barely conscious.


“It was not necessary to drug her.” Mo’nos said, kneeling down to catch his Master and keep her from collapsing and hitting the floor.


“Oh but it was very necessary, Jedi. Are you ready for your final departure?” Mercer said.


“Send us down.” Mo’nos said.


“May your death be virtuous, my friend,” The Bothan snickered.


“There is no death, there is the force.” Mo'nos smirked sarcastically.


“Whatever it is, just promise you’ll keep from forever haunting me. Oh and do not take this personal…”


He pulled out a pistol and shot a dart in Mo’nos’ neck. Both Jedi hit the floor. He aimed at Seraphym's neck and took a second shot. Gola separated them and soon Mo’nos and Seraphym’s body slowly hardened into a carbonite casing.

(End of first chapter-let: to be continued on next month’s issue)

Edited by ServerusEcru
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@ ServerusEcru: An entertaining read, though a lot of ideas and back-content in the first paragraph.


Readability: 8 of 10; Most of your work reads well enough, though again, there are a lot of ideas introduced in that first paragraph


Detail: 4 of 10; Folks familiar with Star Wars expanded lore know who people like the Dantari are, though I'd suspect readers who are more-casual players don't. You did a good job of identifying each introduced character's race/species.


Pace: 6 of 10; Overall, there's as much back-story as plot. Ultimately, Mercer meets with a Sith, introduces a bonus for the Sith, is paid, then tells the Jedi where they are bound for.


Format: 7 of 10; Mostly well-formed paragraphs, and your differentiation of who is speaking is particularly well-done.


Uniqueness: 10 of 10; No backgrounds matching much similarity with any other popular Star Wars characters. The Sith's manner of establishing the little importance that he regards Mercer with is well-communicated in your writing, as well as his selfishness in not offering a bonus - even though he himself is basically receiving one!


Overall, a good read, and well-written! Will certainly hope to further works, from you. :)




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Have updated the Challenge-theme, for March.


The theme overall applies to people who fight the war, though in a stretch, it could also detail a Bounty Hunter's ethic/ethics towards fighting and capturing/killing marks (targets/bounties).


Overall, am looking for the backstory or reasoning for your toon's willingness or perhaps un-willingness to fight to the best of their ability, when challenged by either direct combat, or by the weight of the war.




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  • 4 weeks later...

A Family Reunion


The mercenary cargo ship, Kothlis descended to its destination without hesitancy. With the Jedi’s apprehended, Mercer had confidence that this deal would go smoothly. They never went smoothly, when dealing with Jedi but he was hoping for a swift transaction so he could get as far away from Darth Kellis as possible. As they came closer to civilization, Mercer observed just how beautiful Empress Teta was. From the command deck window, he could see the mountains, rivers, plains and forests; thus what caught his eye was the legendary Iron Citadel. This planet had been known to rival Coruscant, now he could see why. Miles from the rural lands, there was a sea of cloud cities.


“Cinnagar.” Mothra pursed her ruby lips in awe.


The tall Cerean stroked the furry ear of her Bothan Captain. Mercer found warmth at the tender affections of her touch; he would soon have her. After this deal he would settle with her here. The economy was booming and they would make enough credit to give up bounty hunting, if everything went smoothly.


Spasmodically, the entire deck on Kothlis shook and the warning feelers went off. Alarms ricocheted throughout the intact cargo vessel.


“Shields are at seventy five percent! We are being attacked!” The Chief Engineer said through the holotransmitter.


“We are so close, these damn Jedi, let’s get them off now!” Mothra said.


Mercer refused to panic or worry about the shots that were fired. He took the command seat and did what he was good at.


“Let us take a closer look shall we.” The Bothan snickered.


When more torpedo shots were fired, they would confuse the eyes of their attackers as Kothlis vanished. The camouflage system would give them time to ascend backward and see a Dreadnaught battleship, hovering in an aggressive muddle. But whoever commanded it was intelligent, because the counter action had surprised even the clever Bothan. A ray of light blinded them, disabling their concealment. They were exposed and the indestructible battleship came at them mercilessly—cutting the fuel system and causing Kothlis to crash into the planetary surface.




Eye’s dilated open, blurry and barely conscious. Mercer touched the back of his head and felt crimson leaking from it. He felt the pain increase. Nothing was recognizable, but when he seen the fires and dead crew, he knew he was in trouble. The water was violent as it cut through the ship and flooded nearly 50% of it. They had landed in the river. He did not see Mothra, who was once beside him, he thought the worst, bloodied and barely hanging on he stumbled into the cell quarter. Gola was laying between two 80lb pipes, his tongue hanging from his jaw unmovable. He wept with red eyes for his friend. He seen the Jedi still in carbonite and knew he had little time, so he pulled the shaft from their casings and watch them materialize into the milky and slimy forms that they were.


Mo’nos spat phlegm and blood, shivering because of the unnatural shift of temperature. Seraphym woke also, weakened but conscious and aware of the shifting change of events.


“Mercenary,” She coughed, “we had a deal…have you betrayed us?” Seraphym said.


Mercer for the first time in his decrepit life was without words. He held back his emotion and struggled out his answer.


“No…a Dreadnaught routed us. We were almost there. I am sorry, Master Jedi. My crew is lost.” His lips shivered.


“We will save who we can,” Mo’nos said to retrieve he and his Master’s lightsabers that were in a case beside them as prepared. “You will still get your credits for getting us this far, mercenary.”


Seraphym took her weapons and sheathed them, curious who it was that shot them down. She was already on the move. Mo’nos helped the Bothan out and searched for an accessible and safe exit. The ship was nearing 25% before being completely sunken.


Mothra was spotted with a dozen survivors, swimming on the highest level, panicking and crying, holding onto the rails; near a fire escape area. Seraphym seen this and used one of her lightersaber’s to cut through the steel and create a hole for seepage.


“You need to climb, go now!” She ordered.


The mercenaries climbed out, one by one. Mo’nos was seen helping the Bothan move to the seepage.


“Did you find anyone else, Master?” Mo’nos said.


Seraphym shook her head and knelt down to help the Bothan, “I am sorry, Captain.”


Mo’nos and Seraphym both helped the Bothan out and afterwards they were just able to step out of the seepage before the entire vessel went under. Survivors were seen swimming to shore. That was when they all seen the cause of this destruction. Mo’nos recognized the battleship and new this had to have been planned by a more powerful Sith then Kellis. But Kellis was wanted for kidnapping Jedi and imprisoning them, for what reason, Mo’nos was unsure.


“Everyone stay close, we will get you to safety. No one else dies today.” She promised.


Mo’nos and Seraphym took longer getting Mercer to shore and when he was saved, the Jedi stepped to the group to inspect wounds and gather whatever resources they had left. They had no food, clean water or ship, so they were survivors now, pilgrims on this foreign Sith realm. Then a calm voice interrupted their gathering. Two figures approached from where the Dreadnaught was planted.


“Your resilience to survive is applauded. I am sure Neesa is very proud of you.”


A Sith Lord, Mirialan moved to the scene, with a female acolyte beside him. She was turned, her face as pale as chocolate left in ice too long—her eyes like the base of a fire, and her visage was empty during the Sith Lord’s introductory. Mo’nos refused to see her like this, but he swallowed and faced them.


“Dezus, why have you come here? Have you come to torture me in your success? You've already won her, must you stalk me in the galaxy as well...just to remind me of how poor a husband I was.” Mo’nos said.


“Ha, your humility is so befitting for a Jedi, but I sense hate in your words. Such hate can only free you through victory.” Dezus countered.


“You know them?” Seraphym said her hands ready to unsheathe her lightsabers. Her white blonde locks were soaked, and such had enhanced the attraction of her skin.


"Interesting! You did not tell me about her. Is she your side piece or is she your Master? She is kind of younger then you. How does this work in the Order?" Dezus hissed a fowl laughter.


Another unwelcoming figured entered the scene and with him was an entourage of fifty armed Imperial forces. Oyster white hues watched both groups seeing his mercenary barely conscious and his Jedi out of their prisons, the pure blood Sith frowned on this and cursed a dozen words under his tongue.


“This is truly a recreation for common filth. Tell me, why should I not just slaughter all of you.”



To be continued next month!

Edited by ServerusEcru
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Gritty, and full of mis-fortune - the most dramatic type of fortune!


Yours truly did not capture the subject-matter for March - but will be certain to, in April 2015! Every now and then, a fresh-faced, un-precedented story like yours comes to be!


While yours truly hadn't much-propagated March 2015 to the community-at-large, I'll be certain to promote April and beyond to the community and to construct more efforts to-be-told, for this month-in-coming.


Great input, bud, and we'll all hope to hear from you, around the galaxy!






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  • 2 weeks later...

The new subject for April is up!


The 'nemesis' theme is based of of Mo'nos's work, here, since he specifically mentioned continuing it. Remember that this is the 1st encounter with an enemy that your character will encounter again, in the future; Don't kill him/her/it!


Will be sure that yours truly gets a good post in here, before the month is out.


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April 2015 submission


"Wow.... NICE view, baby," the pink-skinned Badourna said, as she placed a hand on her husband's shoulder. The tall human did not shift his gaze from the forward port of the cockpit, as he sat in the piloting chair of their medium-sized freighter. His quiet 'mhmm' of agreement was barely audible to the two Jedi, as they entered the cockpit from the small hallway leading back to the passenger bay. The twi'lek's right lekku came to rest on her right shoulder, as she turned her head awkwardly to the left, to glance behind the husband-and-wife duo.


The first of the robed figures entered the cockpit with the typical un-emotional energy of the Jedi. The second, however, had a certain sense of cockiness to him, and his stance was that of a very proud young man. The Jedi in the yellow robes - whom Badourna had learned was a medical Jedi - stepped to the left, and occupied one of the two seats in the rear corner of the small cockpit. He turned in the chair slightly, and looked upward at his companion. The yellow scanner that was always before his right eye could be seen shifting the data on it's small holo-screen. The other Jedi, a brown-skinned zabrak clad in red battle-armor, apparently preferred to stand, and crossed his arms.


"Ahlvis here says that we've about arrived at Planet Bunduki?" The inquiry came out as a statement, one that bore the imperativity of garnering a response. The captain did not turn in his chair, but rather reached to his left and flipped a switch with one hand. Above the back of the piloting chair, his long, white hair could briefly be seen turning to the left, then immediately back to the front port's view of the Pacanth Reach's rich mixture of blue gasses against a white-spotted black background of space.


"Looks to be the case, Master Jedi," the well-aged human replied, his voice throatly and full of salt. "We'll take an approach keeping the Aslaja Moon between us and the planet. Should help keep us off their scanners." The spacer's wife chuckled.


The twi'lek pointed at the small hologram of the planet and it's moon, visible in the upper left corner of the cockpit. "Bunduki is an under-developed world, settled after it's people fled from Planet Palawa - just over a century ago." She crossed her arms, and shook her head. "Fled to Bunduki, here, after a disaster on their original homeworld. They've kept to themselves, mostly. Been developing a warrior-society, occasionally they send an emissary into civilzed space."


The red-clad jedi smiled and moved his hands to his hips. "Good - that about matches the intel I've garnered on them. I'm going to stretch go stretch. Doc?" Ahlvis's gaze returned to his companion, as he stifled a yawn with one hand. "I suggest you meditate and gain focus. If we encounter any locals on our mission, they won't be friendly."


"I don't suppose you finally want to share what this mission is, Rannid?" Ahlvis called, as the other Jedi headed down the hall towards the passenger bay.


"Sorry, doc - like I told you: it's a secret mission, and only I'm privy to the details, until we are planetside."



* * * * *



The ambush was well-coordinated. Landing well-below standard radar detection altitude, a few kilometers from the nearest settlement, the group had no reason to suspect that they were surrounded - or at least half of the group had no reason.


Stepping off the loading ramp, Rannid was in the process of removing his binoculars from a large, protective pouch attached to his hip, when the soldiers emerged from the foliage of the swamp. "FREEZE! DON'T MOVE!," came the command, in Basic. Ahlvis, at the bottom of the ramp, was about to turn back up it, when a similar command came from behind them. Turning, his eyes widened at the drawn weapons of the ship's pilot and his wife.


"Sorry, Jedi - you should pay more-attention to the bounty boards." The scarred face of the ship's captain bore a wide smile. "The Palawans hate the Jedi - and they are always on the lookout for any who might be heading for the Pacanth Reach."


Two of the group of soldiers approached fast, rifles trained on the Jedi. A small shuttle could be seen approaching, from the oppsite direction of the setting sun. "Turn around. Place your hands behind your backs, and do not make any hostile movements." Rannid glanced at Ahlvis, for brief confirmation that this was wise, and the medical Jedi nodded.



* * * * *



The streets of the city were crowded, at the news that Jedi had been captured. Cheering throngs of people threw bits of food at the duo, occasionally hitting an armored soldier, as well. Ahlvis had retracted his eyepiece into the base of the device, attached to his right ear, hoping to avoid it becoming damaged. The two walked side-by-side, with their hands bound behind their backs, and additionally held by a soldier, apiece. The squad had to occasionally push back an overly-rowdy citizen, who got too close.


"I'm real sorry about this, doc!" called Rannid, over the shouts of the crowd. The two had been surprised that they hadn't been landed at the stockyard, but the purpose of this had become quite clear to Ahlvis; they were being paraded as prisoners, for local morale.


"You couldn't have known, Rannid. There's nothing to forgive." Ahlvis's yellow robes were earning stains fast, and he silently hoped that food was the only thing being thrown at them.


"Uh.... actually, that may not be entirely true." Ahlvis cast a concerned glance at his mission-partner. "You know how this mission is top-secret?"


The medical Jedi's eyes narrowed. "You said the Council wanted you to choose one partner for this mission, and to not share the details, until we landed."


The red-clad Rannid yielded a guilty shrug. "That's.... also not entirely true." Something purple-colored and resembling chewed fruit hit him in the cheek, but Rannid did not react to it with any more than a blink. "There.... is no mission." Ahlvis's narrowed eyes became greatly widened with surprise. The procession made a right turn, only to find further streets lined with jeering crowds.


"What the hell are you talking about?! If there's no mission, what the hell are we doing here?"


Rannid's face showed a very concilliary look, and he gave a guilty nod. "Planet Bunduki here is home to a relatively new martial art - one designed to combat Jedi! I wanted to be the first to document it in-detail, make a contribution to the Order! I figured if we came here, I could challenge some of the locals and --"


"I'm in binders right now because you had some idiotic delusion of grandeur?! What the hell, man?!" Ahlvis lunged to head-butt the other Jedi, but the soldier holding his binders restrained him. He still still only missed because Rannid shifted himself out of the way. Ahlvis spoke through his teeth. "You know they're likely going to publicly execute us, right?"


The red-clad Jedi gave as much as a calming expression as he could. "That's not true - they would have just killed us at the shuttle, or had the spacers gas us and paid them a bounty."


"Then where are they taking us, if not to the executioner's block? Don't you know Palawans hate the Order? We were bascially responsible for what happened, to Planet Palawa!"


"That's true," Rannid replied, looking at the large, domed building, ahead of them, "but I also know that they are a warrior-race; I knew that even if worse came to worst, they'd still want to have us fight some of their best!" Ahlvis knew the reasoning was sound - though nonetheless entirely reckless. The squad and it's prisoners entered the domed building, and the boo's of the crowd behind them began to fade, as they were marched through the halls, towards their unknown destination.


"Just answer me this - why did you choose me, for this endeavor? I would never have agreed to such a stupid notion." Ahlvis could see the pained wince on his companion's face.


"I'm sorry, doc! I read your thesis - well, some of it- and thought you'd understand, once I explained things, to you. You spoke of the benefits of Jedi ethics on continuous and life-long self-improvement. What better chance to improve myself than to come to be able to fight people *specifically* trained to fight Jedi?" He swallowed hard, a tad dehydrated, since departing the starship. "I knew if I was injured early-on, I'd need a healer with me. Otherwise, I'd be of no further use to them, and they'd have no reason to let me keep me around, and fighting. I figured that if I had a --"


"--Oh, you moron!" Ahlvis shook his head, vehemiently. His distaste for the red-clad Jedi was abundantly clear to the soldiers leading them through the curved hallway. "I'm a *medical* Jedi - not a Jedi Healer!" The look of non-comprehension was clear, on Rannid's face. "We're the assistants to the Jedi Healers, because we aren't strong enough in the Force to master advanced healing techniques." His companion blanched, and Ahlvis could see some of the color drain, from his face. "I'm a glorified *nurse*!"



* * * * *



"You two have a lot of gall, coming here. I wouldn't expect this one -" the thick-bodied woman punched Rannid in the gut, garnering a loud 'pauh'-like sound from the zabrak, "to know the history of the Jedi and the Palawans, but you?" She stepped in front of Ahlvis. Her black, short-cropped, gel-spiked mohawk pointed at the yellow-clad Jedi, as she eyed him. "Our men tell me your a Jedi-doctor. You aren't well-read on history?" The man resisted scowling at her, as his arms were bound straight upward to a bar suspeded above his head, matching the binding of both of his legs, to a bar beneath him.


"I know well the plight of your people - and that our own Order is in-advertently responsible for what happened to your ancestors' homeworld. You have my sincere condolences." The woman placed her tip-less gloved hands upon her wider-than-average human hips. A wry smile came to her face.


"Then why are you two here? Did your *Council*," she spat the word, "want to make some kind of peace-offering? Is the Jedi Order feeling guilty for what happened back on Palawa, all those years ago?" She took a few steps to the side and stuck her face in Rannid's. "Because that's not quite the impression I'm getting, from you two."


Rannid licked his lips. "We're here on a mission to investigate a potentially-dangerous anomaly in the atmosphere of your planet's southern hemisphere. If un-checked, it could --"


"--Oh, SPACE OFF, you imbecile!" The woman cast a curious glance back at Ahlvis. "We have no mission here! This idiot heard of some kind of martial art your people possess to fight specifically Jedi, and he thought himself 'Hey! You know what would be neat?'", Ahlvis did his best impersonation of Rannid's voice, "'Why don't I trick a medical Jedi into going with me to a hostile planet that we have no business being on, and fight people specifically trained to fight Jedi?' THAT's what we're doing here!". Rannid's brow angled sharply downward, at his companion. He briefly opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but closed it after a moment, unable to counter the insulting assessment.


The woman narrowed her eyes for a moment, to see if any more information was forthcoming, but decided that the emotional outbust was quite likely both an honest and an accurate one. "Really?" She eyed Rannid up and down. An oddly-deep laughter followed, an earnest laughter, of finding the notion genuinely humorous. She placed placed her left hand on Rannid's shoulder. "You really are an imbecile!" the zabrak gritted his teeth, then bit for her hand.


The movement was lightning-quick, her reflexes honed by years of training. Pulling her left hand back, the woman delivered a strong cross-punch with her right hand to Rannid's solar plexus. An involuntary gutteral utterance of pain was effected from the Jedi, and Ahlvis could not help but raise a brow; the red-colored armor Rannid was wearing should have provided more protection against the blow - but the force of it seemed entirely un-impeded.


Ahlvis wiggled his right ear twice, and a small, mechanical arm extended from the device on his ear, straight out, then diagonally inward. The small yellow holo-screen popped up, and provided an x-ray. The internal assessment of Rannid's body was quite surprising. Rannid's upper intestines and right lung both showed braizing that would inevidebly provide internal bruising, later; the blow had struck to the inside of the zabrak's body, entirely disregarding his armor and physical conditioning.


She stuck a finger in the red-clad Jedi's face. "The name's Laiysga - and I'm a sixth-tier practioner of Teras Kasi". She lowered her hand, and addressed Ahlvis. "Your friend's an idiot - I'll give you that - but not entirely; he and you both will get the fights he was looking for." She turned and walked for the door of the small detention-room.


The guards at the door were not wearing the armor that the soldiers that had apprehended the duo bore; they were clad in dark-blue short-robes, something one might expect to see an order of monks produce. More guards entered the room, following her exit. Laiysga cast a hostile glance back at the pair, through the doorway.


"Strip them of their gear and equipment. We do despise the Jedi - but we also have our honor; you'll get your armor and weapons back, before the first round of fights, against our intermediates. Until then, I advise you rest up. I look forward to fighting you both personally - providing you prove to be a worthy challenge, first."





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  • 2 weeks later...

Have updated the thread, for the month of May!


This month, tackling the origin of / inspiration for your character's weapon.


Some folks have a more-simple origin, but I've also encountered some very-creative stories, as well. Am looking to get more of at least the JEDl-community guild-members involved, so I thought this topic would be a tad braoder - but the monthly challenge is open to all deziens, of Server Begeren Colony!




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Character: Murugan Palanga


In-Game Class & Role: Jedi Guardian


Guild / Community: <THE JEDl ORDER>



History / Description: Murugan is an aspiring Jedi. His quiet intensity belies a tragic origin. He is motivated by compassion for all who fall victim to the dark side of the Force. He has little martial experience, but he makes up for this with tremendous courage and a selflessness to place himself between danger and the more vulnerable.

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A Light in the Dark


Come with me, hurry.


The screams have stopped, only the crack of the flames filled the night air. An imperial fighter buzzes somewhere overhead surveying the destruction, Murugan’s people, his life, gone; a smoldering ruin. He reaches for the pouch hanging around his neck, inside it is his mother’s ring. All he had possessed to remember her by, now all that he had. A hand touches on his shoulder; the look in the Jedi Master’s eyes spoke of the pain he too shared.



Dig there, with your hands, it isn’t deep.


The master beckoned to a patch of black soil nestled at the base of two stones which had sprouted in the forest clearing. The wet soil parts easily against his hands, he reached down until his finger brushes something cold and metallic. He grasps the cylindrical object with both hands and wrenches it loose of the ground. What was this? He had not seen it before; why had the Master brought him here now?


The Master rose and took the device from Murugan’s hands. He took several steps, and then turned to face the boy. His arm outstretched to his side he ignited its brilliant blue beam. With deft strokes he painted the darkness with its light. Radiant arcs whirred all around him as he spun and plunged, striking out in all directions. Coming to rest in front of his face, it illuminated a brow furled with fierce intent, but whose expression quickly relaxed into a mournful glower. The beam retracts, its light extinguished.


My time as a Jedi is long past. But you, I have always sensed the Force in you from the time you were a small boy. You could become a great warrior if that is what you wished.


War, he knew nothing about war until today. Not once had he raised his fists in anger, but there was something new within him. A rage began to boil just under the surface of his skin, he wanted to grab this weapon and run back towards the ships that had laid waste to their home. He saw himself plunging it into their bodies; he could hear and smell the searing of mortal wounds, the look in their eyes as he took their lives. This was not who he was, was it?


You mean fight, them? You want me to join the war. After everything you did to try and keep us out of this conflict you want me to become a soldier?


A Jedi is more than a soldier; they walk the path of the light. There is a great deal you can learn from the Order. I know it is difficult, but your life here is over; take this with you to the Jedi temple on Coruscant, they will help you find a new way.


With a look of regret about him the Master turned; in the fresh downpour a man clad in black robe steps towards them, the silhouette of a face barely visible beneath his hood, two eyes stared out at them, filled with hatred. He draws a similar weapon from his hip, its light: blood crimson, drops of rain sizzle as they evaporate around its beam.


Jedi filth.


The Master steps forward to put himself in the hooded figure’s path. He too draws his weapon but instead of igniting it he places it at his feet. He will not fight him, but he stands his ground. The man grins with anticipation, but then seems to hesitate. A torrent of rain is beating down on Murugan, he is soaking wet but can still feel the fevered sweat pool on his skin, his teeth begin to reverberate. The Sith lunges forward, Murugan closes his eyes and covers his ears with his hands; holding tightly to his head, but he can’t silence it. Instead of the hum of the hooded man’s blade crashing down on the Master there is a whisper of air. The rain has stopped. Murugan opens his eyes to see that the trees which had flanked the two of them had been uprooted, and the grasses and flora lay flattened to the ground. There was no sign of the Master or the hooded man, on the ground the Master’s weapon lay broken into many pieces.


Murugan takes the crystals, and other components, and places them in the small pouch.


Part 2 to follow.

Edited by Murugan
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  • 4 weeks later...

Hey, very nice, Murugan! Had seen you'd posted here a couple of weeks ago, and can't believe I forgot to check in - a very good start, to an origin-story!


Will update the month's challenge in the next day or two; still thinking on June's subject-to-be, but have been keeping so busy that I've not had time to sit and do much purposeful thinking, on the subject.


Ironically, the post I'm about to make was nearly-done since the end of April, the last third took two more sit-downs, to complete - including tonight!



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May 2015 Submission



It was such an odd place, to witness the wonder of, and yet still mentally bear in relation to any kind of danger - especially considering the Jedi's prey. Whether carved by an older civilization or by nature, wide, walkable paths cut along the cliffsides of the region. Ahlvis had traversed both the rear and the trecherous fronts of the region's waterfalls, knowing that a single mis-step on the rounded, wet rocks in the front could mean certain disaster. His robes were damp, heavier than usual, as the young Jedi Knight trekked after his target.


The trandoshans he encountered earlier had not initially welcomed the man, since the Jedi that they had encountered before him had fled at the sight of their weapons. However, Ahlvis had both landed quite close to the Warstalkers' labor camps, and had known that their weapons were likely for defense against the creatures of Planet Denova's wilds. With the war off, the trandoshans were eager to see the warriors amongst their company in action. While half a dozen had offered challenge, the Jedi was not an egotist; His offer to spar with the largest of them had sufficed, in the goal of earning their respect.


Now, having had the direction of the trandoshans, the Knight was hot on the trail of the rogue. Ahlvis greatly dis-liked leaving Planet Tython at such a crucial time, but knew it was also important that the Initiate not fall into the wrong hands; Even with the Treaty of Coruscant in-place, he dreaded what the Sith might deign to do, should they discover the under-contruction new Jedi High Temple, on Planet Tython. The planet's defenses themselves were not up-to-par, yet, and Grandmaster Shan had warned all Knights to be tight-lipped about Tython's actual galactic coordinates and what systems neighbored it. This made the rogue a priority target.


Ahlvis knew little of the girl, other than her approximate age. He had a holographic image of her stored on his datapad's harddrive, and had examined it enough to be familiar with her appearance. A selonian, she was nearly as tall as Ahlvis was, and yet would not reach her full adult height for a couple more years. Her fur was white, with a streak of brown descending down the outsides of both of her arms, as well as her tail. He wondered if the other members of her species found such a feature attractive, but Ahlvis had never spent any time with the hound-like people, native to Planet Corellia.


The stone path wound behind another waterfall, and Ahlvis had to shield his eyes with one hand, as he came closer to it. Several small waterfalls poured out from the mesa-delta above him, into a similar gathering pool about a hundred meters below him. The cliffside was slick with moisture as he neared this next waterfall, and the small lake below him reflected an intense glare from the system's sun. Even through his polarized contact lenses, Ahlvis still found the glare to be severe enough to keep his eyes from direct exposure. Behind the waterfall, the knight halted himself, for a moment.


There, in a small collection of soft mud that had amassed itself behind the thin waterfall, was a selonian footprint. Tracks were not his method of finding this prey, however; As a Jedi Initiate, the selonian girl had yet to master any techniques related to masking her presence in the Force - and it was not difficult for the man to detect other Force-sensitives. Ahlvis could feel the girl's emotions of consternation and annoyance at being followed, mixed with the occasional feeling of hopelessness and fear. No matter how she felt, however, Ahlvis knew the selonian would need to dry herself off soon, preferrably before the sun set; while Denova's winter months were still a ways off, the change of seasons had already begun to drop the temperatures drastically at night; she would not be able to bear travelling wet, without any manner of heavy clothing.


* * * * *


As the sun was setting, Ahlvis could detect a rather distinct sense of relief, from his unseen prey. The knight had to suppose that the selonian had believed herself to have found a good place of hiding or respite, since it was highly un-likely that she had found any allies, in the wilds. Denova was not a very-settled world, not having many natural resources asides from its woodlands. The trandoshan camp of the Warstalkers had been a mining outpost of some kind, with a very small garrison. Their leader, a tall warrior by the name of Kephess, had come to watch the sparring match Ahlvis had indulged of them, in his exchange for knowledge of the region. However, the Republic-employed Warstalkers' operation was very small, and the trandoshans did not seem to possess much wealth; Whatever they had been mining was likely their sole source of income from off-world trade, aside from the pay the Republic was giving them, to make its quotas on their classified mining-material.


Ahlvis trekked onward, knowing he was getting quite close to the run-away Initiate. The Jedi avoided exerting himself, knowing that any heavy breathing on his part would become quite audible, through the filtration mask that covered his mouth and the lower half of his face. Before having constructed the device to properly mix the nutrient gas that was his life's work into his oxygen supply, Ahlvis simply would have relied upon a small, yellow holographic scanner that he'd formerly worn before his right eye to pinpoint his prey's exact location. Now, however, with the benefit of the mask (which was not without it's own set of rather restrictive drawbacks), the man no longer needed to rely upon technology to sense the girl's location.


Rising over a large outcropping of rock, the path descended again into another deep ravine, narrow, yet still pooling water at the bottom of it. The sun was now low enough in the sky that the ravine was shaded from sunlight, and the temperature had already begun to drop, from it's welcome daytime warmth. Ahlvis stopped and couched behind a small, loose boulder a short distance down the trail, to stare intently at a rather large waterfall. The trail ran into a small cave in the mountain, and then could be seen exiting the same cave, just before dissappearing behind the waterfall. The Jedi could sense no change in the selonian's emotional demeanor; He still possessed the element of surprise.


Knowing the small cave could easily be laiden with traps, Ahlvis chose a Jedi's route-around: He Force-lept up to a fairly-flat outcropping of rock above the cave, and then ran across the surface to the other side. He silently dropped back onto the trail, and made his way behind the waterfall. The man frowned underneath his respirator-mask, upon seeing why the young selonian had chosen this as her abode, for the evening: behind the waterfall, a small pool lapped against the shore of a medium-sized semi-dome, that cut back into the stone. There, too, were dozens of large, pourous holes - sized as such that they could contain several large people at once, and yet the holes obviously angled downward, from their openings; Any onlookers would be unable to determine if such a hole was occupied, without going through the trouble of climbing the wall of stone to examine each hole.


The Jedi removed his lightsaber from its resting location on the side of his hip, but did not ignite the saber's blade. He hated the notion of upping the concentration of his nutrient gas again so soon to further his detection, after having done so to overcome the trandoshan challenger, earlier. Even now, Ahlvis could still feel the small amounts of poison that had accumulated in his internal organs, as his body overworked its ability to filter the poison out. In just a few hours, the human would face a slight weakness that would be with him for most of a week; utilizing a higher concentration of his gas again so soon would likely mean he'd be out of commission for a period longer.


As he edged along the pool of water, in an attempt to gain the best standing vantage from which to see into the holes, the ground beneath his right foot gave way, and the knight fell knee-deep into the small pool. He resisted the urge to curse, as he felt the selonian's fear. Rising out of the pool and facing the back of the cavern, he decided surprise was no longer possible.


"You might as well come out, young one! However this day is to end for you, it will involve being my prisoner." The Jedi's eyes darted from hiding-hole to hiding hole, hoping the girl would simply surrender. She had hardened her thoughts, and the knight could feel her sense of hope growing. Ahlvis's yellow eyes narrowed, as he continued to visually scan for the selonian. He knew that her hope meant she was not planning on surrendering; whatever she was up to, the selonian was holding out reservation for her success.


Ahlvis ignited his lightsaber and raised it strongly, catching the downward arc of the runaway's cut. She had waited until the last moment, to ignite her yellow blade, and it hissed as it held against the knight's green blade. Ahlvis was forced back a step, but did not yield the saber-lock. He managed to shift his weight to the left, and deflected the selonian's saber to the right. She made a fast, sideways cut, but the knight skillfully stepped back diagonally, just before offering a quick jab, as a counter. The refugee again raised her blade and rushed Ahlvis, going for another downward cut. The man stepped back with his left foot to dodge the cut, but then immeidately stepped forward, closer to his opponent. He butted his saber's hilt into the nose of the selonian, and she recoiled, in pain. His sideways cuts were both met, and the knight pressed the attack.


The knight jabbed, spun around while moving forward, and offered another jab. The girl wisely backstepped to evade these, knowing better than to attempt to block with her blade. It was Ahlvis's turn to make a downward cut, and the selonian met it - locking their sabers, again. The knight's eyes involuntarily widened, at the greater strength that she was able to offer, in the lock. Formerly of the medical Jedi, Ahlvis excelled at measuring the physical capacities of other sentients. There was no reason that he could immediately summize that the girl should be able to offer greater strength than he, as the saber blades slowly but surely drew closer to his head and upper torso.


The Jedi Knight was forced to rely on the Force to repel his attacker, and the selonian briefly came off of her feet, from the invisible forward-surge of the technique. She ably caught her footing, without falling. The two circled eachother, for a moment. Their breathing was heavy, the selonian panting, and Ahlvis's breathing distinctly audible through his respirator-mask. "Yield, girl - before you make me angry!"


The female gritted her teeth. "Why?! Why you not let me be? I harm none - I not intend to harm any! I flee from lizard-men, no violence!" Ahlvis smirked, at this, and shook his head, slightly.


"You did them no favors, there, dear. I fought their largest - and even he possesses only a third of their leader's strength." As the selonian shifted her grip, Ahlvis caught sight of her lightsaber. A flash of realization came to the knight's eyes, and he decided to buy a little more time, before pressing the fight. He continued to keep his saber pointed towards his opponent. "Tell me - why did you choose Planet Denova, to run to?"


The saber hilt the girl was using was bent, at the bottom. Most wielders of a single lightsaber used both hands to fight - most of the time. However, now that he thought about it, the runaway had not taken either hand off of her saber's hilt, thus far, and she was strongly favoring cuts; with the ability to grip both a straight and an angled length of the hilt, the weaker selonian was able to place more strength, into her attacks. Ahlvis had faced a sith who bore such a hilt once, but that battle had been over, just as quickly as it began - and the knight had not thought anything of such a hilt design, past simple decoration.


"The lizard-men - they take baradium, of the ground." Ahlvis's eyes revealed his surprise. The girl noticed this, and nodded in confirmation, at his questioning gaze.


"Baradium? Here?!" It made sense, the knight realized. While the Warstalkers' operation was Republic-funded, the entry in the holodex he'd checked prior to arriving planetside had a 'details classified' marking, upon them.


"I think to make credits enough to buy way back to burrows - to Corellia." The girl shook her hound-like head, in regret. "But lizard-men no have decency! They no have respect - even for Jedi!"


The knight felt a pang of sympathy for the young selonian, but quickly ignored it. "Of course they wanted to fight you - in fact, challenging and belligerent behavior is frequent amongst trandoshans, but especially in groups! This is all something you would have learned, in your studies of galactic culture.... But you didn't have much attention, for your studies, did you?"


The selonian's lips quivered, and Ahlvis could feel a guilty admittance, amongst the changes in her emotional demeanor. He resisted the urge to scowl, as he hardened himself for an attack. "Listen: the Jedi are a symbol of the might of justice, across the galaxy. The Warstalkers back there - the trandoshans?" The girl's eyes came back from her place of regret, and her sight rested on Ahlvis.


"What of them?"


"They challenged you - and you ran!" Ahlvis shook his head at her. The girl's eyes began to water, and her nose wrinkled and un-wrinkled a few times, in rapid succession. "You ran, instead of re-assuring those with little law that the might of law is STRONG, not weak! You allowed the emotion of fear to dictate your behavior towards them, didn't you?"


The selonian's face collapsed, as she began to freely weep. "Wasn't.... wasn't ready to fight lizard-men! Wasn't strong, like knight -" One hand came off the hilt of her saber, as she turned the palm of her hand up, to emphasize what she was saying. Ahlvis siezed the opportunity, and before her words ceased to part from her mouth, Ahlvis used a very small rotation of his blade to bring it up over his head, and to quickly swing it in a downward arc. The move surprised the girl, and she was barely able to raise her blade, in defense.


The quickness and forcefulness of the cut proved successful: While he did not cut the runaway in two, her block lacked the fullness of her strength, and the knight's saber cut lightly into the girl's shoulder. It was not enough to sever usefulness of the selonian's arm, though; she immediately responded, attempting to mount an attack between a few cuts and swings. The Jedi had learned all he needed to, though, about her combat capacities, already; he dodged her cuts, bobbed in and out of closeness to her, since she didn't seem to employ jabs, and only met side-swings when the rogue was completing the follow-through with one arm.


Ahlvis jabbed a few quick times, breaking the rythym the duo's combat had fallen into, and utilizing more consecutive jabs than anytime previous, in the fight. The selonian struggled to fall back, until her back hit the wall of the semi-cavern. The sun was down now, just past the horizon, and the majority of the light now came from the two lightsabers. With her back to the wall and the runaway's saber up in defense, Ahlvis utilized one of the first offensive Force-techniques he'd ever learned.


The selonian screamed, as her vision became a blur; the Knight had conjured a great beam of light through the Force, and shot it directly into his opponent's eyes. She screamed, but had not changed her posture much - as had been Ahlvis's hope. She did, however, lower her saber just a little. She struggled to see, and turned first slightly to her left, then, as she was turning to her right, Ahlvis called upon the Force to imbue his side-swing with greater might - knocking the saber from the initiate's hands, and casting it off into the back of the semi-cavern.


The girl stepped towards the direction of where she knew her lightsaber would have been knocked, but the distinct hum of the knight's blade came to be just in front of her - about at the level of her neck, the selonian knew. "YIELD, girl, or I will make this world your grave!" The selonian, upset, out-of-breath, and only able to see a large, mostly-dark blur, slowly raised her hands, in surrender.


* * * * *


Two trandoshans, each leading the selonian by an arm, stopped her before the Jedi. "Kneel", one managed, in Basic. The girl did, her spirit defeated. She looked up at the knight with eyes out-of-tears; she'd cried, the whole way back to Ahlvis's shuttle. The Warstalker scouts had spotted them, and eagerly gone to investigate and help. Feeling at the end of her rope, the runaway looked up, into the stern face of the Jedi Knight.


"So this my end? I to die, by hands of people took me, from burrows?" The knight crossed his arms, and resisted the urge of pride. He slowly shook his head, meeting her gaze.


"No - you will go to join the Agricorps, young one. Once of the appropriate age and once we are certain that we have severed your connection to the Force, you will - oneday - be returned to your burrows." The rogue's surprise did not emanate upon her face.


"But.... But I know of Tython - and where is...." The Jedi's face seemed to contort slightly, and the girl realized that this was likely Ahlvis's way of smiling, for there was a certain gladness, in his eyes.


"Oh, there's a reason they sent me." The man reached up to his face, and adjusted a small nozzle on his mask, turning it one direction, a couple of times. He breathed out, then in.


The selonian's eyes widened, in shock. Like a raincloud creating a new lake overnight, like a ship entering hyperspace directly in front of someone, a vast and marked difference opened, between the standing Force-affinity Ahlvis possessed, and this new level. "Don't worry - this won't hurt." Ahlvis reached out with one hand - a hand the runaway quickly attempted to lean back from, knelt as she was. The knight caught this movement, however.


Guided unwillingly and suddenly by a Force technique, the selonian's body lurched forward, and the knight's palm now rested on her head. The girl's mouth opened in a scream that did not come out. "In the days of my youth, with the Medical Jedi, we worked extensively with the elderly. Across nearly all races, as the brain ages, the strength of the neural pathways that criss-cross the brain - a sentient's manner of storing memories and keeping skills - begin to weaken, diminish, and even vanish, given enough time. As such, we were taught techniques to halt, slow, or even reverse these processes - thus restoring memories. However...."


The knight leaned down, unable to resist the urge to whisper a few more words, to the rogue. ".... the *opposite* works, just as well!" Ahlvis closed his eyes, and focused upon Tython - it's location, it's inhabitants, even it's vegitation and wildlife. After a moment, he found the most-significant collection of neural pathways relating to these memories, and shifted his hand so that his thumb rested just over the physical spot of the brain where these connections met. Now fully a Jedi Healer - and temporarily imbued with unnatural strength with the Force - the knight severed the neural pathways. The selonian perceived a burst of light, and Ahlvis released her, from his grip.


The girl fell to the ground. She struggled for a moment, possibly just to gain her balance, but gave up; Ahlvis sensed the hopelessness that the runaway felt, and allowed her to pass out, exhausted by her day. The jedi turned the nozzle on his mask back the other way, and gripped his stomache with one hand. The gas was always poisonous, but his body could safely handle a certain concentration of it; a higher dosage meant far more poisons, and the body had it's limits - just as increased Force-sensitivity typically only comes with some price, to the Force-user.


"You done, Jedi?" Ahlvis turned towards the gutteral alien words, to see Kephess arriving at the scene.


"I would have assumed you'd be catching some sleep, Warstalker!" The enormous trandoshan was flanked by four guards, as he approached the others.


"To sleep now, as you leaving, for those without respect, without curiosity," Kephess replied, in the hiss-filled language of the trandoshans. The knight smiled again, surprised that the camp's leader had come to see him off. "Your mission gone well? Dog-girl was dangerous?"


"I have caught our cowardly runaway, and now need to drop her off with our Agricorps." Ahlvis glanced down at his now-prone prisoner, as the two that had held her prior bent over to pick her up. He shook his head. "She.... was dangerous, but sometimes the most-dangerous thing one can possess is just plain old knowledge." After a moment, he light-heartedly added, "Sorry, if you were hoping to eat her...."


The small procession of trandoshans laughed, a rare sight for any situation not involving cruelty. Kephess patted the knight on the back. "If we not eat ours, we not eat theirs." Ahlvis's hands came to the knight's hips.


"Well, that's.... always good to hear. I don't know what you're mining," the jedi lied, "but I hope it furthers the means of the Republic." The knight began walking for the loading ramp up to his ship, the two trandoshan handlers having come back out.


"Sometimes need to destroy, to create - sometimes, largest help sound like 'boom'," the trandoshan clapped his hands together, to emphasize. The knight paused, and looked back at the leader of the Warstalkers.


"I can't argue with that, Kephess." He pointed into his ship with one thumb. "Some of us were not meant to be Jedi - don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad you're one of them!" The trandoshan smiled broadly, revealing many rows of artifically-sharpened teeth. Ahlvis turned, and headed up the ramp


Kephess cupped his hands. "That make two, of us! Safe hunts, Jedi!"


"We'll meet again," Ahlvis shouted back in response, just before the loading ramp finished closing. "....Probably right after I tell the Council that the Republic has placed a blood-thirsty mercenary group with a multiple-factioned history in-control of a baradium mine," he added, to himself. The knight passed the lounge-chair that the trandoshans had rested the selonian runaway in, and fastened her seatbelt.


Arriving in the cockpit, Ahlvis's holocomm lit up, as his transmission to the new High Jedi Temple finally reached the person he had requested. A rather groggy Satele Shan appeared, from the head up. Ahlvis was glad that so few people could tell when he was smiling; the Grandmaster slept in the nude often, and night-time transmissions to her used to catch her un-prepared, in Satele's first couple of months as the leader of the Jedi.


Satele stifled a yawn, and her faced then seemed to snap back into its 'business-only' demeanor. "Oh - Knight Ahlvis? I take it you have been successful?"


"Indeed, Grandmaster. Sorry about the time, I earnestly feel that a subordinate or another councilmember could have taken my holo-call...."


Satele shook her head. "No - a matter this grave, I need to address personally. What is the status of the rogue initiate?" Ahlvis could be seen casting a backwards glance, in the holo.


"She's had a long day, and needs her rest. Don't worry; the.... 'procedure' went perfectly, and I have already scouted her mind for any other memories that could prove a detriment to keeping Planet Tython's location a secret: there are a few referencing the world, but nothing that can do us any harm - I'm sure, of it."


"Very good, Knight Ahlvis. That's good news - and the more we get of it, the better! If there wasn't anything else, I do need to return to my sleep." Ahlvis motioned with one hand, for her to wait.


"Actually, there is." Though she could not see it in the holo, the Jedi looked past the projection, and at the bent-hilt lightsaber that now rested on top of his ship's control panel. "If at all possible, I'd like to join the next expedition to the Forge. Inspiration has found me, upon this trip, and I have something new, that I think I'd like to try...."



Edited by Ahl-Vinn
Needed title, inclusion of month for specified story
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Updated, for the month of June, 2015!


This month's theme: "Your character, in a deal gone *BAD*"


No other guidelines; any context, location, and for anything!


Ideally, am looking for how your character reacts to the un-expected, when the circumstances turn either dire or deadly, in a deal-gone-bad.




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Character: A'lexx Vanguardia


In-Game Class & Role: Jedi Sentinel, DPS


Guild / Community: <THE JEDl ORDER>


History / Description: A'lexx comes from a small planet in the distant Outer Rim called Vanguardia. He was shipped off to the Republic as a small infant when a smuggler nicknamed Needleman got stranded on Vanguardia for a few days, and then returned to the Core Worlds with A'lexx and the rest of the quintuplets bred by his mother Luet. He grew up as an orphan, given care to by Republic Child Services on Coruscant, separated from his brothers by fate. At age 5, he was transferred to an institute near the Senate Tower to become a scholar. At age 9, he and his best friend Nasek, a Twi'lek boy his age, went to explore Coruscant, their destination: The Jedi Temple. When they arrived near the Temple, a Jedi Guardian greeted them warmly, and showed them a few cool tricks with the Force. As the boys stood in wonder, blaster fire rang. screams in agony, and the distant clash of lightsaber were audible from where they stood. The Sacking of Coruscant was underway. The Jedi told them to run, and they obeyed. They both hid, each in a different spot, until the battle was over. When A'lexx emerged, he found Nasek and was joyful at the reunion; only to be cut short by a Sith searching for survivors. A'lexx shielded himself with the Force and curled himself in a ball in panic, while Nasek stood motionless. The Sith killed Nasek in front of A'lexx's own eyes. He taunted A'lexx, he told him to embrace his hate, his anger. And he did. A'lexx let out a tremendous Force Scream, obliterating anything in his path. The Sith was a mere hunk of flesh. A Jedi heard the scream and found A'lexx weeping over the body of his fallen friend. He then told him what the Jedi stood for, and A'lexx decided that he would seek to do good in the galaxy, in the name of the Jedi. He joined the order, and a year after, when the Order finally relocated themselves on Tython, A'lexx was eager to begin his studies. There he learned about his father, the great Jedi Master A'lex, and he embraced it. Before, he was known simply as Mira,referring to the blind Miraluka species as a tease for his blindness due to a birth defect. He was simply the orphan from Coruscant. Now, he was A'lexx of Vanguardia, aspiring Jedi, and keeper of the peace. His studies were thwarted, however, when he was old enough to become a Padawan. No one wanted to take him as their Padawan. Whether they were intimidated by his past, his father, or simply afraid to create a monster, A'lexx was alone. Still, the Council led expeditions and seperate classes in which he could continiue learning, but at a much slower pace. On his 19th birthday, the Council organized an expedition to Ilum, where the Jedi Crystal Cave was. There, he found a beautiful blue crystal talking to him, urging him over. He held it in his hands, and the crystal transformed into two identical, smaller crystal, adequate for a lightsaber. He assembled them in his hilt. He ignited his twin sabers, and the Crystal Cave light up a bright radiant blue. He remembered silently his fallen friend, a decade had passed since that day. He promised Nasek to never fail the light within him. Never.

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Monthly Submission for the month of June, 2015.

Character: A'lexx Vanguardia



A deal gone bad.


A'lexx took pleasure in reading the Jedi Archives. He found it fascinating that so much knowledge, so much information could be stored in one place. And an appropriate place this was. He studied calmly, gently, without causing too much of a rouse. What he found most fascinating was biology. He was amazed to see so many different types of life-forms existed in this galaxy. Day after day, he would access the archives looking to increase his expertise in the subject. One day, A'lexx got curious to see what creatures inhabited Tython, the place where he lived and studied in the name of the Jedi. And A'lexx was not one to let uncertainty get in his way.


A'lexx made his way to the entrance of the Jedi Temple, where he simply nodded at the Masters and Knights, along with fellow Padawans greeting him. The birds soared, the sun was bright, another beautiful day on the Jedi World of Tython. A'lexx strode his way down to the Taxi Pad, where a small protocol droid told him, "Displaying available travel routes." A'lexx got on a speeder, and selected the camp furthest from the Temple. He grinned as the speeder lifted off, and he was on his way. It was a most pleasant ride; the air on Tython was always sweet and fresh, and he enjoyed it very much. Not like the unbreathably polluted Coruscant he grew up in, no. He arrived at his destination a few minutes later. He was ready to explore.


As A'lexx strode around the Tythonian wilderness, he was weary. He had read about a gruesome species of hawks called Hook hawks, a vile predator that supposedly was extinct by now, but still, he had his doubts. Hook hawks were a formidable hunter. Hook hawks hunted in packs searching for prey. The hook hawks would circle their prey and hover there while they sang a hypnotic song. The song, if the prey was exposed to it for long enough, could cause paralysis. After this, the hook hawks would dive and using their hooked beaks and sharp talons to gouge out the prey's eyes and throats. Not a pleasant situation, thought A'lexx.


At last, A'lexx found his first objective. An Uxibeast. He approached the big beast gently, sending soothing thoughts to it through the Force. "Easy big fellow, easy." He approached it, and started gently patting his head, careful not to get impaled in its sharp horns. Once he interacted enough, he let go of the Uxibeast, and continued on his voyage.

Next, he found a Guid. Guids are an ugly-looking primate native to Tython, A'lexx recalled. He approached it, sending the same soothing thoughts as the Uxibeast, though he was more cautious this time; Uxibeast were rather docile in comparison. He sat next to the Guid, examining the big creature with wonder. Then, A'lexx sensed danger. He ducked, just in time as a spear flew by, aimed at the Guid, but not quite accurate. The Guid fled in panic. A'lexx got up, ignited his twin sabers, and assessed the situation. The Guid's only known predators are the Flesh Raiders, and they are the only ones smart enough to use tools. The question is, where are they?


A'lexx got his answer fairly quickly, when blaster fire started pouring from behind bushes and trees. He deflected the bolts with ease, and started towards his attackers. He deflected the next flurry of bolts directly back at the source, and two Flesh Raiders fell forward out of the bushes, crying out in agony. Still alert, A'lexx backed away. He was sure they were more of them here. "RAAARGH!" screamed the Flesh Raiders as 4 of them , holding vibro-swords and training blades they had picked up from dead Padawans, lunged at A'lexx. He responded by swiftly cutting one of them down in the chest, while he threw his other saber and beheaded another. He called his saber back with the Force, and was ready to face his 2 remaining enemies.


One of the Flesh Raiders fought with audacity, parrying A'lexx's blows with ease. A'lexx pressed harder, and the Flesh Raider's guard finally broke for a split-second; and that was all he needed. He thrusted his lightsaber directly into the Flesh Raider's throat. As the Flesh Raider fell to the floor and writhed in agony, clutching at his throat, the other attacked A'lexx, full with rage, and quite hungry. The battle was formidable. A'lexx could never have expected such retaliation from such a primitive species. He decided to test his connection and knowledge of the Force, and tried to put his opponent in Force Stasis. Instead, he slightly miscalculated, and the brain of the Flesh Raider was crushed quite gruesomely. Still, it did the trick.


Startled, A'lexx made his way to the Temple to meditate on his actions. He came awfully close today to breaking a promise he made to a good friend, long ago.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Some great submissions!


Will not do the scoring anymore, and will likely edit it out, upon updating next month's topic.


Some great entries, from our community-members. Interesting characters, and the chapterlets-challenge is proving a good means through which to continue to expand upon characters' pasts and abilities.


The challenges stand! If you'd like to share the stories of your BC character, feel free to pick a topic, and begin expanding upon the deziens of our server!




Edited by Ahl-Vinn
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June 2015 Submission



The tallest man scowled strongly, eager to express his disagreement with the older knight. "Careful, Roxwan," came Ahlvis's voice, from his other side. The tall, blonde man turned, his scowl only slightly lifting. The visage of his face was one of great consternation. Without replacing the binoculars in his belt-pouch, Ahlvis crossed his arms, to fortify his words. "I disagree with the institution as well," the words were slightly muffled, from behind the yellow-clad knight's respirator that masked the lower-half of Ahlvis's face," but we didn't come here to free slaves." Roxwan threw his arms in the air above his own head, for just a moment, and shook his head, repeatedly.


"So you agree with Ol' Everything's Zen, here?" Roxwan turned to glare at Ahlvis, while pointing a mailed finger at the yellow-skinned mirialan. Yudrel's tatoo'd face came to bear a great smile, at the action. The oldest of the three Jedi Knights, Yudrel was more philosopher and archaelogist, than a fighter. His plain, un-assuming brown robes were quite the oddity, next to Roxwan's assortment of heavy battle-armor. In the mid-day heat, the battle-armor was doing nothing to cool Roxwan's great temper at their disagreement, as sweat gleamed on the tall human's face.


Ahlvis briefly held up one palm. "I didn't say that - I'm just saying that even if we did free them, what would we do, with them? We have one, small shuttle, and enough food for two meals, apiece - not enough to feed the army of slaves that are in those pens." Roxwan's face gnarled.


"So we're just going to go down there, hand over the credits, take our artifacts, and LEAVE?!" Roxwan began to face back-and-forth, angrily. "What the hell is the Jedi Order around for, then?" Ahlvis glanced to Yudrel, who nodded.


"As it is," the mirialan offered, "the slavers bring in food and supplies, and the slaves drink and eat." Sitting cross-legged on the grass in the shade beneath the great tree over them, Yudrel raised one hand and cupped it. "To remove the slavers from this equation would result in the slaves being un-fed and without water. While captive against their will, are they not better off -"


"NO, they are NOT!" Roxwan shouted. At this, both of the other knights raised both of their palms towards their companion, casting nervous glances in the camp's direction. He pointed an accusatory finger at the oldest knight. "I don't even know why I should have to argue with you two, over his; I'm the one they placed in-charge of this mission! If I say we should include something in our plans, then it should be included!" Ahlvis shook his head.


"Except our mission is to *buy* the artifacts from these people, and your proposed change to the plan is to kill or fight a camp full of slavers and to release their hundreds of slaves into the wilds - where," Ahlvis pointed an accusatory finger at Roxwan, "they would no doubt perish!"


"You don't know that! There are animals and water, out here. They could hunt -"


"-in the wilds of Planet Voss?!" Ahlvis cut him off, abruptly. The half-masked Jedi shook his head, sternly. "The beasts of this world are not largely known as grazers; the predators prey upon other predators, with few notable exceptions. No.... Releasing those slaves into the wilds will simply result in a feeding frenzy. Now are we going to go buy those artifacts, or not?" The large Roxwan's face clearly displayed his dissappointment with his companions, before he turned to face the camp, again.


"Fine - but if the slave-keepers show so much as a sign of aggression, I'm taking their heads!"


"To defend against an attack is any being's right," Yudrel offered. "Heads belong on shoulders, though - both physically and figuratively." Roxwan did not turn to respond to the comment, as the three resumed towards the slavers' camp. Ahlvis scowled at the yellow mirialan, glad that their leader had not seemed to have realized the insult.


* * * * *


There was a great air of hostility present in the camp, as cross-armed slavers of several races warily eyed the three Jedi. The camp stank heavily of biological waste and un-washed slave pens, though it was not the smell that the tall, blonde Roxwan's nose was repeatedly wrinkling at. Large supply crates, barbed-wire fences, piles of downed trees and other impromptu materials constituted the walls surrounding the compound. The slavers held their weapons in-hand, knowing well the combat-prowess of Force-users such as the Jedi and their less-pleasant counterparts. Few weapons matched; Yudrel noted amongst a small group of five slavers they'd passed that the collection of weapons in their hands included rifles from three different parts of the galaxy, and mis-matched pistols from manufacturers ranging from Planet Balmorra to Planet Zadd.


Off to the far right side, though, was something that caught both the attention and the alarm of the group: three large, purplish-blue skinned creatures of hulking size sat chained, seemingly resigned at their reluctance to be in the possession of the slavers. Ahlvis recognized the massivley-muscled animals as vorantiki - predators native to Planet Voss that stood two stories tall, and although known for being slow, were capable of massive feats of animal strength. The intel that the Order had provided the trio about Planet Voss had included mentions of animal exportation, illegal by the laws of the Voss people.


Roxwan seemed to have his temper in-check, though Ahlvis knew by the slight and repeated turns of the knight's head that Roxwan was taking a total count of how many slavers were manning the camp. A small area large enough for two transport shuttles lay to their left, with an area full of supply crates, adjacent to that. In the center of the camp, waist-deep square pits had been dug into the earth of Planet Voss, with head-high cages over them. Inside were misable-looking slaves, some starved, some beaten. While the poor deziens within the pits had the sympathy of all three Jedi, the faces of Ahlvis and Yudrel remained stoic. Ahlvis hoped that Roxwan's face was just as placid, but he was unable to confirm this, as he and the simply-robed mirialan strode behind their tall leader.


The narrow-eyed glares of the slavers did not leave the three, as there was not much else in the camp to keep their attention. The weather of the afternoon was slightly overcast and hot, without wind. The constant chirping of insects provided a constant and audible backdrop. A large gamorrean, flanked by four slavers of mixed races rose in the shade of a tent, and walked out to meet the group. The armed slavers that had flanked the Jedi as they strode through the camp spread out in a circle, and seemed to relax at the pending interaction between the camp's leader and the visitors.


The gamorrean extended one hand, palm up, in a greeting. He began speaking in the grunt-and-squeal-filled language of the gamorreans, and Yudrel advanced beyond Roxwan, to serve as translator. The yellow-skinned Jedi raised one hand to head-level, his palm open to their hosts.


"And greetings to you, as well, sir." The mirialan notioned towards the other two knights. "We are the party sent by our Order to purchace the artifacts that have come into your possession. Naturally, we will need to inspect them, before - before...." Yudrel's attention drew off, by what he felt from behind him. He slowly turned his head back towards the tall Roxwan, whose fists were clenched and teeth gritted. Ahlvis's eyes widened, as he could feel the seething anger, from the man.


"Knight Roxwan, don't do anything foolish -" Ahlvis began. The leader interrupted him.


"You will give us the relics we came for.... and you will free every last slave in your possession!" The hulking Jedi removed his lightsaber from it's place on his belt, though he did not ignite it. Ahlvis and Yudrel raised their hands in a calming guesture towards their companion. The slavers raised their weapons, and trained them upon the Jedi. The gamorrean took a step back, and raised his hands in a disarming motion.


"What is meaning of this?! You come for what we find in ruins, you come to buy! Jedi betray own words?" The slavers' leader demanded, in his own tongue. Yudrel was quick to shake his head, in an attempt to reassure their hosts.


"No - we did not come to cause trouble!" the mirialan began. "Our companion here simply has a distaste for slavery, and -" the effort was in-vain, however; Roxwan extended one hand towards the gamorrean, and then quickly drew it back, into a fist. In an action forbidden of Jedi, the tall knight tore the windpipe and front of the gamorrean's throat out - through the front of its neck. Ahlvis and Roxwan ignited their sabers, and raised them to deflect the blaster bolts that would inevidibly follow.


The slavers opened fire, as their leader clutched his own throat as he fell forward, to die. Yudrel's hands went for the lightsaber at his waist, but the mirialan was not fast enough. Blaster bolts cooked the diplomatic Jedi's body, and he was only able to let out half a shout, before collapsing to the ground. Ahlvis, able to sense Roxwan's coming movements, matched his Force-leap to stand on top of the slave cages. The two-hundred or so slaves cheered as the fighting began, though many hunkered low, to avoid any crossfire that made it through the slats of their cages.


"To the middle!" Ahlvis called, and Roxwan quickly turned to follow him; the two sought to force the slavers to run back, to get an angle for their shots at the duo. Ahlvis's yellow saber blade deflected two shots, as he turned to be back-to-back with the taller knight. The blue blade of Roxwan's lightsaber skillfully repeated the action, with twice as many blaster bolts. The majority of the slavers were still backing up far enough to angle their shots upward, and any of the remaining slavers that had not witnessed the fight break out ran from the corners of the camp to investigate the blaster-fire.


"Any ideas, Ahlvis?" Ahlvis deflected another blaster bolt, surprised and angered by the question.


"Oh, did your plan to get us killed NOT have a contingency?" The yellow-robed Ahlvis reached up to a nozzle on his mask, and he turned it several times, to increase the concentration of the nutrient gas mixed in with his oxygen supply.


"Sorry - I was always my master's least-favorite Padawan! He said my anger issues were un-becoming of a Jedi and...." Roxwan's eyes widened and he began to turn to look back at Ahlvis - but more incoming blaster bolts demanded his attention, instead. "What the hell did you just do?! The Force is a hurricane, around you...."


Ignoring the question, Ahlvis raised a hand. The retaining pins keeping all four of the large slave pens flew high into the air, and the doors opened. The slaves eagerly poured out, and the attention of the slavers was forced from the Jedi. Ahlvis winced as the first of the filthy masses of slaves began to fall to the blasters of the slavers. Ahlvis tapped Roxwan's shoulder, behind him, and pointed towards the nearest vorantikus. "There!" The duo ran for the three beasts.


The camp lieutenants had not taken their attention off of the Jedi, even as their subordinates struggled to keep back the throngs of slaves charging into their midsts. A few slaves ran for the un-gated entrance to the camp, though most swarmed the smaller groups of slavers, in an attempt to garner their weapons. Already, return fire had begun back at the few dozen slavers. A grenade blast went off, on the opposite side of the camp from the Jedi.


Roxwan stopped, short of the reach of the nearest vorantikus. He looked at his companion. "What now?!" Ahlvis made a circle motion with his free hand.


"Get behind it!" The two ran left and right apiece, in a radius around to the back of the beast. The massive creature screamed, and the excited roars of the other two vorantiki bellowed, in response. All three beasts struggled against their chains, to no avail. Led by a surviving lieutenant, a group of half a dozen slavers ran for the gathering. Ahlvis and Roxwan met around the backside of the first creature, and Ahlvis waved a hand. In response, the light around the bodies of the Jedi bent, concealing them from sight. The slavers fired at where they knew them to be, a few blaster bolts hitting a vorantikus behind them. "Hit the ground!"


The knights extinguished their lightsabers and hugged the ground with their chests. Ahlvis extended a hand, and waited patiently for the slavers to get closer. The heat of blaster bolts could be felt, over their heads. The first slaver in the desired range, Ahlvis lifted an invisible palm. In response, the groundings of the first vorantikus's chains pulled from the ground, and the beast immediately stood, eager to move freely. The nearest slaver, an anomid, dropped his rifle in shock, and turned to run. It was useless, though; while not fast to run, vorantiki could nonetheless maneuver their hulking bodies quite quickly, in a localized area. It grabbed the anomid with a clawed and, and brought the screaming woman to its mouth. The other slavers had halted in-place, and watched as their comrade was bitten in half. "Shoot it!" cried the lieutenant.


Ahlvis raised his hand again, and the bindings holding the other two vorantiki released, much to the excitement of the beasts. The slavers had begun to fire upon the blaster-resistant hide of the first beast, but they quickly turned and ran, seeing the other two rise. The lieutenant cursed loudly, before joining the retreat. The fight on the other side of the camp was now in full-swing, armed slaves overturning small supply containers to cover behind while returning fire at the slavers. Their former owners were forced to fight, as the armed group of slaves now stood between them and the camp's only shuttle. Multi-colored shots could be seen rising into the distant air before dissipating, having missed their intended marks.


The duo of knights remained silent, until the vorantiki - now pursuing their captors - were out of earshot. "Good plan, Ahlvis."


"'Good plan'? 'GOOD PLAN'?!" Ahlvis repeated, angrily. "You just got Yudrel killed, you selfish idiot! A Jedi Knight died for your insolence towards protocol! We were sent here to buy something - and now a hundred or more people are DEAD!" Ahlvis stood, as the light un-bent from around their bodies. Roxwan's eyes darted to the ground, un-willing to meet Ahlvis's accusing stare.


"I - I couldn't just stand by as...." the blonde man's hands circled lowly, as he searched for the words. He finally met Ahlvis's glare, before shaking his lowered head.


"Death is not the same as freedom, as much as you wanted it, for these people." A woman's death-cry could be heard from the far-end of the camp, as the blaster shots continued to boom out. "Come - at the very least, I won't have those artifacts being destroyed or looted." Sabers in-hand, the knights ran for the command tent, where the gamorrean and his entourage had been.


A frightened slaver who'd been hiding emerged from a tent to the duo's right, as they neared it. He hadn't initially seen the Jedi running his direction, but reflexively raised the rifle in his hands, upon spotting the two. Ahlvis ignited his blade and easily reflected the shot into the chest of the young man, who dropped his weapon and clutched his chest, as death claimed him. The two continued to run, getting closer to the fighting. Rounding the corner of the slave cage-pens, the knights stopped in their tracks. A group of slavers and their slaves struggled to grip weapons from eachothers' hands in a deadly melee, as the largest vorantikus swiped indiscriminately at the closest people in it's reach. Roxwan pointed.


"There - right there!" The command tent was only thirty meters ahead of them, on their right-hand side. A few more-sensible slavers and slaves alike turned and ran from the group, towards the exchanges of blaster-fire. Roxwan ignited his saber. "How do we get in there?" He looked at Ahlvis, who was already looking at him. The emotion was gone from the other knight's eyes, as Ahlvis looked upon Roxwan with a rather monstrous glare. Roxwan's blood ran cold. "W-w-what's the matter?" The taller knight turned his body, to keep his saber between himself and Ahlvis.


"We are tools of the Order, Knight Roxwan. For your actions this day, the Jedi would no doubt exile you or otherwise end your career as a Jedi Knight, anyways...." Ahlvis extiguished his saber, and replaced it upon his belt, with a deadly calmness. He raised his head, not taking his menacing stare from Roxwan. Ahlvis turned the nozzle on his mask a few more times. "You may as well serve us one final purpose!" Roxwan's head turned slightly, as he sought the other knight's meaning. It was too late, though.


Roxwan was lifted off the ground by Ahlvis's command of the Force, though he did not drop his lightsaber. The lifted knight's eyes displayed his abundant fear, as he realized what Ahlvis intended to do. "No - NO, PLEASE!"


"You fed your own anger and your own impatience this day, Roxwan Dizmari - now, you shall feed something else!" Ahlvis threw the helpless Jedi at the back of the vorantikus, hitting it squarely and roughly on the back of its spiked head. Roxwan screamed, and dropped his saber as the plated spikes penetrated his side. The remaining slaves and slavers had fled towards the blaster-fighting, and the vorantikus now focused its attention on the screaming creature stuck on its head. Ahlvis wasted no time, and ran for the tent.


There, splayed across the table, were partial remains of stone sculptures, crystal shards of varying colors, a single square, inert holocron, and a few rusted tools and implements, atop a clean sheet. Ahlvis bundled up the artifacts in the sheet, and threw it over one shoulder. Exiting the tent, he looked over just in time to see a bloody Roxwan impossibly rise from the ground, having somehow freed himself from the plates on the vorantikus's back. The injured knight called his saber to his hands through the Force, and ignited the blue blade. Roxwan pointed the blue blade of light at the advancing vorantikus and swiped at the beasts's claws, as they reached for him. The beast roared in frustration, as the blade took one of it's clawed fingers. Roxwan spotted Ahlvis, out of the corner of his eye. "TRAITOR!" he called, swinging a few more times as the hulking beasts claws darted in and out quickly, attempting to find an opening in Roxwan's defenses.


Ahlvis's eyes narrowed. Whatever else came of the day, he knew it would be a bad decision to let the other knight live. "AT LEAST *I'M* NOT LUNCH!" Ahlvis accentuated his shouted remark with a hand motion of flattening something with his palm. In response, Roxwan was pushed to the ground by an unseen force, unable to move. The man began one final string of screams, as the vorantikus now picked him up, and brought the defenseless Jedi to its mouth. Ahlvis wasted to no time, and ran for a wall of the compound. Force-leaping over it, the yellow-clad knight did not stop running until he reached a comfortable distance, from the camp.


Turning back to survey the destruction, the knight noted that the blaster fire had now stopped. Scores upon scores of bodies lay about the camp. The former-slaves had overcome their masters, and were now taking stock of the supplies of the camp. A few were clustered around the shuttle in the camp, one pointing at a smoking hole in the shuttle's side. Two of the vorantiki lay dead, the third apparently having fled the camp for the wilds. A few curious slaves could be seen cautiously coming back into the camp, hugging the sides of walls and peeking around large supply containers.


Ahlvis shook his head briefly, before returning the nozzle on his mask to it's normal setting. Sharp pains immediately assaulted his sides and fingertips. He'd over-done it on the duration of bolstering his Force-sensitivity, and begrudgingly knew that it would be months, in recovery from the accumulated poisons that presently inhabited his internal organs. With the sack of Jedi artifacts over one shoulder, he briefly wondered the origin of the items. Limping, the knight turned from the hilltop view of the camp, and began the trek back to the spot that the Jedi had concealed their shuttle. The deal had gone bad from the most un-expected of sources - but missions were missions.... and he was unwilling to let the deaths of his companions mean nothing, in failure.





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This month's topic has to do with an old adage:


"There is no such thing as a man who rightfully calls himself a man, that does not walk about the earth without some degree of shame or regret, in his heart."


In order to help our characters to be a more-complete developed-character, yours truly has chosen this month's topic to be "A personal source of regret or shame, for your character". Somewhere, either far in the past, or perhaps more-recently, there shoulc invariably be some type of shameful or regretful action that your character has made - either purposefuly, or by mistake.


Take this month's topic as an opportunity to expound upon such an insight, into your character!




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