A Dark Side female Warrior who puts storyline spoilers all over her life. No idea what standard fanfic protocol is, so, here I go.
(Edit: Filling in here a bit: Dark Side female Warrior Nalenne has her class Interlude distressingly interrupted when an old friend returns to take up residence on her ship. 400-700 word scenes, posted as I see fit, with spoilers throughout the Sith Warrior line.)
There is no death, there is only Wrath
Featuring Nalenne and co.:
Table of Contents
Part 1: In which Vette skips town and Nalenne reads comic books
There once was a Twi'lek named Vette
(Who, astoundingly, ain't been killed yet)
Though twice caught and enslaved
She just kept getting saved...
But she's not so well off now, I bet.
"Hey. Lord High Sith-a-muck."
Nalenne looked up from her comic book. Vette stood in the doorway between the holo room's reading nook and the bridge. "Yeah?" said the Sith.
"Weren't you supposed to get a job?"
"I have a job. Emperor's Wrath? You were there." She tapped the datapad to the next page, where Duranium Man was demonstrating his superiority over the costumed Jawa called Blizzard
in both suaveness and combat prowess.
"Yeah, but...have you noticed he hasn't asked you to be wrathful lately?"
"All in good time."
"And you're not worried about the silence?"
The Pureblood looked up again. "Should I be? The Hand tells me the Emperor's sleeping off some disagreement, so that's fine. As for anybody else...a few weeks back I pummeled my second Dark Council member into the dirt. And my sister got herself a chair there, too. Nobody's going to mess with me, I'm getting paid from the Council's coffers, and if anybody does come to kill me I can deal with 'em."
"You sure about that?"
Nalenne set the datapad aside - Blizzard's ice beam was malfunctioning mid-party-trick and Duranium Man was obviously setting up for some killer one-liner, but the Twi'lek was getting worrisome here - and stood up. "I'm pretty sure. Don't get any ideas. That collar's still on."
"The one you lost the remote for a year and a half ago? Yeah, I'm quaking here." Vette tapped the slave collar on her neck and wrinkled her nose. "I can't just wander off without raising major questions, but you can't punish me."
Nalenne raised her arm for a backhand.
"Um, you can't shock
punish me specifically," Vette said quickly. "You are so sensitive, you know that? Ever since - well, before Baras. Ever since you killed Captain No-Fun, you've been wound up as tight as he used to be."
Ouch. "Thanks. I hadn't noticed."
"Just sayin'. If we're not on the job, I was thinking of maybe a Nar Shaddaa outing? There's this festival they have every year down in the Nautolan projects - sounds sketchy, is sketchy, but it's a great time, and I figured a week-long vacation..."
"You mean a week-long bender."
"Vacation. That's what I said."
"You don't seriously expect me to come with you."
"No, I expect you to let me whisk Jaesa away. I get girl time, you get...don't ever tell me what you get, I'll just enjoy the aroma of blood that'll be there when I get back, knowing you had a good time."
Never mind the sarcasm; there were magic words in there. "If you'll take Saint Jaesa off my hands, I'll fly you anywhere you want."
"Yess! Hyperspace coordinates are already in. We'll be out of your hair before you know it. Or would be, if you had hair." Vette bounded off.
Nalenne settled back on the couch and tapped the datapad again for a full-page portrait of Blizzard getting thrown through the window of a skyscraper's observation deck. Duranium Man stood in the jagged remains of the windowframe, fiddling with a couple of freshly loosened screws near his shoulder, looking down at the falling Jawa: "Next time? Try stealing the jet thrusters first."