I'm glad you enjoy!

 

And although I've heard nothing but bad things about Broonmark when I actually level my baby sw I'm probably going to have your version in mind when I get him and it'll all be good lol.

 

Broonmark is a walking possibility fountain exactly because he's such a non-character. He's a Talz who likes killing everything. His Codex entry elaborates: He likes killing everything even more than most Talz like killing everything. He thinks betrayal should be met with death, which may seem like a good character handle until you recall that he thinks just about everything should be met with death. All other aspects of Broonmark? Blank slate. Draw what you will, if you think he's worth the effort. I hated him when I played through my Warrior, but I think exploring this mental image will help me like him more when my next Warrior comes to town.

 

 

Yeah. I've been reading all these SW fan fictions and I'm starting to actually right out the canon of my SW on paper. You guys are ruining me, here.

 

I find it interesting how much fanfic centers on the Sith Warrior. Check out the forum index and you'll see what I mean. This specific crew really, really gets people up and writing. I love it.

15. In which Nalenne reads comics and Jaesa expresses concern

 

Redemption’s a difficult run,

Rarely wanted, and more rarely won.

Though the virtuous path

Beckons even the Wrath,

Perdition’s just too damn much fun.

 

 

Czex Lerka stood at the top of the fictional Lerka Tower, looking down at the colossal Senate building on Coruscant. He held a half-filled champagne flute in one hand. He spoke to the planet in general and the hulking Mook One in particular: "Soon they'll call their session and rezone Sector Alpha-Zeta Nine...and Lerka Corporation will be entirely free to mash the whole Domo cluster together into one great superreactor!"

 

Mook One scratched his head and looked worried. This was his primary function in the franchise. "But the Domo cluster has three trillion civilian inhabitants, Mister Lerka."

 

"In a type 13D reclamation zone, there are no civilian inhabitants." Czex gestured down at the Senate building. "Hence the zoning amendment. Soon it'll be nothing but megafusion and profit."

 

"In the Empire," Nalenne muttered to herself, "he would've had this whole thing running months ago. That bureaucratic glacier of theirs is the only thing giving Ultraguy time to save anybody." Such were the plot difficulties of the Coruscant Comics universe. It was sad, really.

 

"Master?"

 

Nalenne set down the bootleg-loaded datapad. "Come in, Jaesa."

 

The young Jedi entered Nalenne's quarters and settled at the foot of the bed. Nalenne herself didn't move from her curled-up half-submersion in a pile of pillows up at the headboard.

 

"What's on your mind?" prompted Nalenne, because Jaesa would sit there all pretty and doe-eyed and expectant all day if not invited to speak.

 

"It's about Captain Quinn. Is he okay?"

 

"No. He's dead."

 

"He won't talk to me. Pierce is excessively hostile to him, and I think Broonmark is, too, though it's hard to tell since I can't make out what he's saying. And Vette has started the cruellest speeches..."

 

"Ooh, that I'll have to hear."

 

"Master!"

 

"What?"

 

"Hasn't it occurred to you that he's probably in a lot of pain?"

 

"Hasn't it occurred to you that he deserves it?"

 

“You’re awful, you know that? You weren't like this when I met you."

 

"I was coming off a virtuous high when you met me. You showed up too late to stop my plunge into glorious cruelty."

 

"There is still light in you."

 

"Not listening."

 

"Also I need some credits."

 

"Has it ever occurred to you I might be more generous with your allowance if you didn't always make me angry first?"

 

"Has it ever occurred to you that I want to at least try to talk about the important things first?"

 

"Has it ever occurred to you that you're a complete nitwit?"

 

"Look who's talking, Darth 'Maybe if I'm mean enough he'll go away'! Because that approach has worked for you so damn well that he came back from the dead to keep giving you the grief you deserve!"

 

Nalenne grinned. "I love making you mad, Jedi."

 

Jaesa frowned, which on that pretty baby face was nothing short of adorable. "Tell me you're okay, at least."

 

"I’m worried. But we’ll sort it out."

 

"If you need anything, you know I'm here."

 

"I know. You're like a sister to me, Jaesa. Apart from where you're not a dark master bent on killing me or setting me up with some stranger."

 

"And you're like some twisted sister-master-bully to me, Nalenne."

 

"That's the spirit. How many credits?"

 

"Ten thou'. There's this shelter I ran into on Nar Shaddaa that's distributing - "

 

"Don't care about the charity, hon, I'm just glad you're finding strategically irrelevant outlets for your kindness. Consider the transfer done."

 

"Thanks. There's a little decency in you after all. Just...could you try to get everyone to ease up on Quinn?"

 

"Don't push it."

Edited June 10, 2012 by bright_ephemera

Subscripted.

16. In which we remember why it didn’t work out and a fight starts

 

Relationships comfortably rest

When never quite put to the test.

To view it too clearly

Or talk too sincerely

May shatter what’s fragile at best.

 

 

Nalenne poked her head into the bridge. Ghost-Quinn was right back where he used to be, or rather one seat over while 2V-R8 sat at the console typing for him.

 

It was pleasant, seeing him at his old station. “You really are addicted to the information,” she said.

 

He turned without standing. “My lord. The war never rests.”

 

“2V is working out for you?”

 

“Oh, master,” said 2V, “I am honored to have this responsibility, and will discharge my duties in – “

 

“Shut up,” said Nalenne. “I’m talking to Quinn.”

 

“He is acceptable,” said Quinn. “Miserably slow at the controls, but he suffices as my surrogate hands.”

 

“You’ll tell me if interesting work comes up, right?”

 

He raised his eyebrows. “You work these days, my lord?” he said mildly.

 

“Don’t take that tone with me. You know I’m always up for a challenge.”

 

“I know you’ve been wasting your time with comic books and any insignificant brawl that takes place sufficiently near a comfortable hotel room. I know you’ve been using the Hand’s silence as an excuse to slide into absolute sloth while critical battles rage – “

 

“Whoa, stop there. Where is this coming from? Have you just been sitting around judging me and my friends while you pine for lost relevance?”

 

“I have been observing. You don’t have friends on this ship, apart from perhaps the beast.”

 

Classic bloody form. Quinn in a bad mood was a bastard. “That’d be one more friend than you’ve had in your life, preacher. I can’t believe I ever put up with this.”

 

“I can’t believe you managed to put forth the effort to meet my minimum standard.” Annoyance highlighted his arrogance in an awfully attractive way. “What a struggle that must have been. Seeing how quickly you dropped the pretense after you realized you couldn’t get me back into bed was most illuminating.”

 

“You think I ever upped my game for you? Don’t flatter yourself.”

 

Vette ran onto the bridge and skidded to a halt. “Hey, I hate to interrupt the relationship drama, but we’ve got a wing of Republic fighters coming in hot.”

 

“There’s no relationship drama going on,” said Nalenne.

 

“That’s another thing,” said Quinn. “You lie habitually.”

 

Vette scanned the room. “I’m gonna go ahead and guess that you can’t talk 2V through your old job here, Quinny, so I’m thinking one of us has to – “

 

Pierce pounded in from the bridge corridor. “Milord. You an’ Vette will have to take the turrets.” He slid into the pilot’s chair. “Let’s see if I remember how this goes.”

 

“You definitely remember how it goes,” ordered Nalenne nervously.

 

Quinn sneered. “If you make this a suicide run I will laugh, lieutenant.”

 

“Ha. Nalenne goes up, you won’t be laughing. I’m willing to bet you die with her. For good.” Pierce flicked a couple of switches, prepping the Helicarrier’s shields. “One of the few prices I wouldn’t pay to see you gone. Lucky you.”

 

“You couldn’t kill my lord if you tried,” said Quinn.

 

Pierce and Nalenne exchanged looks. “No, I think I/he could,” they said in unison.

 

“My lord! If I was unable to….”

 

“Oh, you want to start?” said Nalenne. “For one thing Pierce isn’t limited by your textbook tactics. For another he doesn’t have the suicidal need to be physically present to monologue before a kill.”

 

“You only think that’s good because you lack the capacity to comprehend –“

 

“His traps don’t fire pew-pew blasters, they destroy whole city blocks. Killing a Sith? He could do it, no droids required. Resourceful. Fearless. Cunning.”

 

“The lady knows a pro when she sees one,” muttered Pierce with a small dark grin.

 

“I’m resourceful, fearless, and cunning!” said Quinn.

 

“And dead,” said Nalenne. “He’s still light years ahead of you for killing power.”

 

“If that intellectual brick is your ideal, why didn’t you -“

 

Vette waved her arms. “Guys! Fighters? Go boom? Bad?”

 

“Right,” squeaked Nalenne, and left one smokingly angry Quinn behind while she ran to one of the gun turrets. She checked the dusty controls to make sure everything was in order, then scanned the sky for hostiles. It had been a while. But everyone on board knew that the dogfights were guaranteed to start back up sometime.

I wants to know what happens next!! (Thank you for being prolific lol)

That's great, loads to read after a few days off... And of course, I'm very glad you did lie concerning this horrible idiot Andronikos killing your Sith

17. In which Pierce observes Tatooine and Vette disapproves (I/IV)

 

A rakghoul-infected civilian

Seems special on Hoth or Dubrillion.

But wherever he’s cast,

His uniqueness won’t last;

He won’t long be one in a billion.

 

 

When Nalenne stepped onto the bridge one day, Pierce was leaning against the wall with the exaggerated casualness he had when he was really excited.

 

“Morning, milord,” he said in an offhand way. “Interesting news.”

 

“Another Dynatech thermal detonator model out already?”

 

“Nah, you know their R&D cycle never kicks out anything new in less’n eight months.”

 

“I never knew that before I met you.”

 

“Like to keep you informed about what matters. No, there’s an alert out. Rakghoul plague outbreak on Tatooine.”

 

“You mean my two least favorite things got together?”

 

“Dire warnings for everyone to stay away at all costs.”

 

“So you want to go?”

 

He smiled a thousand-watt smile. “Absolutely.”

 

“That’s stupid. We’ll all get bitten and die. Wasn’t getting away from rakghouls the whole reason you left Taris with me?”

 

He raised one eyebrow ever so slightly. “Had a few reasons for leaving Taris, milord. Anyway, from what I hear they’re cranking out vaccines as fast as the virus can mutate, so if we keep up with the shots it’s fine. Nice change of pace from the sorry kids the Republic has been throwing at us lately. Not that I ever get tired exactly of mowing down sorry Republic kids.”

 

“Ooh, yes,” said Vette from the doorway. “Let’s go back to Toaster Town and roll around in rakghoul plague.”

 

“Ooh, yes,” mimicked Pierce in a high-pitched voice, “let’s go back to Nar Shaddaa and get plastered.”

 

“That plan is both safer and more fun,” said Vette.

 

“I bet there’s more money on Tatooine,” said Nalenne. “Assuming the Empire wants to clean this up.”

 

“We don’t want to discard planets this early in the war,” said Pierce. “I expect rewards are in the offing. If nothing else, there’ll be Sand People to beat on.”

 

“Sounds like a good time.”

 

“You two are gross," said Vette.

 

“Some people just can’t be pleased,” said Nalenne. “C’mon, Pierce.”

 

“Pulling up hyperspace coordinates now.”

 

The trip didn’t take long. Nalenne browsed one of her favorite classic Duranium Man adventures on the big nav computer screen while Pierce leaned over her shoulder and criticized the superhero’s weaponry. Vette, presumably, sulked somewhere.

 

Nalenne closed her comic and moved aside to let Pierce take over when they reached orbit over Tatooine. “Mos Ila spaceport, this is Fury class designate S.A.B.E.R. Helicarrier, requestin’ permission to land.” Nalenne loved making him do this part simply because it was the only time she heard him requesting permission for anything.

 

“Permission denied, S.A.B.E.R. We’re in a full state of emergency here with an uncontrolled rakghoul outbreak. We can’t allow anybody coming or going.”

 

“My commander here is Sith and she wants to land.”

 

“My orders here come from the highest levels and you have to stay away.”

 

“We are damage control, you know. Fully qualified to assist with your little embarrassment.”

 

“Access denied, S.A.B.E.R.”

 

“It’s either let us land or have Mos Ila flattened ‘n’ sterilized from orbit, by order of the Emperor’s Wrath,” said Pierce.

 

A pause. “You’re clear to land in docking bay 41.”

 

“That’s what I thought,” said Pierce.

Edited June 11, 2012 by bright_ephemera

Please don't feel any need to limit your weekly post count....I'm delighted to have so much to read after a couple of days! I would not have guessed that a storyline involving a sith warrior could consistently make me laugh out loud, but you manage it with ease

18. In which the crew explores Tatooine and rakghouls (II/IV)

 

The Stardream encountered a hitch:

Someone smuggled a rakling-beast, which

As expected, got free,

Had a mean biting spree,

And infected the crew. (Life’s a b*tch.)

 

 

A stern-looking official waved at Nalenne and her crew as they exited the Mos Ila spaceport. “My lord,” she called. “There’s a briefing on the screen behind me. If you must go out there, please listen to it in its entirety and then report to our supply officer.”

 

The briefing could be summarized thusly: Blah, blah blah, very dangerous, you’ll probably get eaten, kill all bitten people on sight. Blah blah blah. Sounded exactly like some parties Vette had dragged Nalenne to in the past. Once the inevitability of any expedition’s self-destruction was established, the official sent them on to a containment officer standing outside the spaceport next to a huge bin of folded somethings.

 

The officer bowed. “My lord. Come to help us clear up this mess?”

 

“Come to get a good fight, but if it helps, that’s great.”

 

“It’s dangerous,” the officer warned. “Take this.”

 

Nalenne shook out the folded-up containment suit the man offered her. It was…orange, partly. Orange and white and ugly all over. “Are you joking?”

 

“Rakghouls don’t joke, my lord. That suit is treated with a coating to neutralize their ichor and it’s especially slashing-resistant.”

 

“That’s because no one wants to get close enough to something this ugly to slash it.”

 

“It works, my lord.”

 

“If any of your people take pictures while I’m wearing this, I will kill you all.”

 

He swallowed hard. “Noted, my lord.” Then he took a few more suits from the bin. “Um, here’s some for your crew.” He looked up at Broonmark. “Except the…thing. It wouldn’t fit.”

 

Nalenne looked up, too. “You gonna be okay?”

 

Broonmark nodded. “Weak not-Sith clan cannot kill through broggg.” He tugged at his fur to illustrate that last word. Stars knew the stuff was thick enough to stop most claws.

 

Vette grabbed a suit from the proffered stack. Pierce took the next one, then grinned wolfishly. “Pasty-face here doesn’t need one.”

 

“Sir,” said the officer to ghost-Quinn, “it’s necessary for your safety.”

 

“It’s really not,” said Nalenne.

 

“B-but-”

 

“The Sith has spoken, soldier,” said Quinn. “Stand down.”

 

“Good man,” said Nalenne approvingly.

 

“I’m so sorry,” the officer mouthed to Quinn, even though Nalenne was still looking right at him. In reply, Quinn merely stoicked.

 

Once the three people who could wear the containment suits were set, the party rode to the other end of Mos Ila, where the yellow packed-dirt road sloped down to meet the desert sands. Quinn, being otherwise unable to keep up, perched on the back of Nalenne’s speeder and tried to look dignified about it.

 

At Mos Ila’s northern edge, standard long-range taxi speeders were lined up on a half-buried platform. A dozen troopers in containment suits stood on the line between steel and sand, firing endlessly at wave after wave of huge galloping rakghouls. Beyond the line of fire, clusters of rakghouls milled about in the shadow of every boulder and pillar in sight.

 

Nalenne looked at Pierce. Pierce looked at Nalenne.

 

“FREE FOR ALL!” they howled, and charged.

 

*

 

That night they trudged back into Mos Ila covered in dirt, blood, and greenish rakghoul ichor.

 

“Good day,” blubbed Broonmark.

 

“That it was,” said Nalenne. “No cantina room for me, I’m going back to my comfy comfy comfy ship…stars, I’m tired.”

 

“I’ve got places to be,” said Pierce. He looked down at Vette. "Wingman?"

 

“Sure thing.”

 

“What now?” said Nalenne.

 

"Cantina up there. Prime pickup grounds. Rugged soldier type who is seen treating his slave well is like catnip to Imperials."

 

"And once he's hooked up I just play the sympathy angle anywhere I choose,” said Vette, tapping her slave collar. “Works out for all."

 

"I love that you guys are so shameless. You do me proud. Have fun."

 

Pierce grinned. "I intend to."

Edited July 1, 2012 by bright_ephemera

Doub-double post! This one's also a special long edition (~1000 words).

 

19. In which the rakghoul mystery is largely ignored (III/IV)

 

There was an Imperial post

Staffed at half, or two thirds at the most.

It guarded some sand

And a huge empty land

And – rakghouls! Odds are, that fort’s toast.

 

 

The crew met up at Outpost Zaroshe, a sorry dustball on the edge of the Dune Sea. Word was that some Republic frigate had crash landed to the north just before the outbreak occurred.

 

Jaesa, after a long thoughtful look at the outpost’s guards, offered to stay on and stand watch with them. To bolster morale. Nalenne did not point out that the worst morale problem present was with Jaesa, whose terror swelled to palpable levels whenever anybody mentioned the rakghoul swarms out beyond Zaroshe’s fence.

 

Ghost-Quinn sat behind Nalenne on the speeder ride northward. The sandy hiss of the wind cut them off from the rest of the crew.

 

“You don’t have to wear a visor for this ride,” she said. “What do you see when the whole world’s unfiltered?”

 

“I see a considerable quantity of dust particles flying directly into my eyes, my lord. You’re not missing much.”

 

They crested a dune and coasted to a halt. “Whoo-ee,” said Nalenne.

 

Everyone has seen the news holos of the wreckage of the Stardream: ragged pieces of ship strewn in a rough line from west to east across a desert valley, surrounded by roving packs of rakghouls and the infected unfortunates who had first tried to establish a perimeter.

 

“That doesn’t look healthy,” said Vette.

 

“There must be something in the wreckage that can begin to explain what happened,” said Quinn.

 

“Last one there’s a bormu-butt!” said Nalenne. She hopped off her speeder, readied her lightsaber, and charged.

 

*

 

Quinn led 2V among the wreck’s remaining databanks, trying to extract something useful.

 

The rakghouls were innumerable.

 

"Disturbing,” murmured Quinn, peering over 2V’s shoulder at another cracked screen. “The logs here suggest that the breakout went unrecognized and unreported for several days. It was interpreted as food poisoning. The captain knew the signs, but he noted it in private and said nothing. As if silence could save them…”

 

Nalenne cackled. “Three strikes, three kills! Whaddya think of that?”

 

Broonmark blipped and did a hard short charge with his vibrosword held out like a skewer. “One strike three kills.”

 

“Full auto’s up,” said Pierce. “Haaaahh!”

 

“My lord,” called Quinn, “your medic is going this way. There must be a primary system log, but I can only guess as to the location…”

 

Vette shot a leaping rakghoul off and away from Nalenne’s back. Nalenne didn’t notice. “You’re welcome,” Vette grumbled.

 

"By the time this ship entered atmosphere," said Quinn grimly, "there was nothing human aboard. This is appalling. Leaving aside the fact that rakghoul plague doesn’t wander by accident, where was the military containment response? The captain didn’t have the resources to deal with this. Did no one notice a whole transport falling silent?”

 

The battle rolled along the sands, combatants reeling from flank to flank of the valley, using chunks of ship debris as walkways, cover screens, and projectiles. Most of the crew more or less stayed within kolto-probe range of 2V as Quinn led the droid and the wave of chaos from databank to databank.

 

“The captain was former military. Where was his Republic when he needed it? He had a wife at home, a young daughter. All any soldier could dream…but judging by these journal entries he still ended up trapped, in his last days, knowing that it was already too late. He didn’t speak because he knew he was already a dead man.” Quinn blinked hard and gestured aimlessly with one fist. “By whose hand? Did he even ask before the plague took him?”

 

“Little busy here,” shouted Vette, hurrying to switch out an ion pack on her offhand blaster.

 

"Thirty! Thirty-one!" sang Nalenne, slashing her way over to cover the Twi’lek.

 

Pierce threw something and counted off three seconds. When the thermal detonator went off in the middle of a rakghoul frenzy, he laughed out loud. "Twenty-five through thirty-six."

 

Broonmark’s full-voiced gurgle shook the ground. “ALL OF THEM.”

 

“When circumstances close in you don’t give up and wait. You press on. You carry out your duties, even knowing how it ends. And if you’re smarter than I was, you look for another way. But this captain didn’t even know who damned him…” Quinn raised his voice to a hoarse shout. "This way, my lord. If anything remains of the supply officer, his effects may shed light on where the infection originated.” Quinn motioned for 2V to hit a button on a big flickering console. Within seconds a huge half-mutated man came bounding out of nowhere, hissing. “Still alive? Astounding. Can he talk? Can we subdue him?”

 

“WOOHOOO!” yelled Pierce, and gunned the newcomer down.

 

“Uh, Pierce?” said Vette.

 

“Just check his pockets, wimp,” said Pierce.

 

“Yuck. 2V can take care of that,” said Vette.

 

2V did.

 

“My lord, when you get a moment,” called Quinn as 2V delivered the mutant’s datacard to the nearest computer. Nalenne trotted up and signaled her crew to keep a tight defensive circle.

 

“What’s the word, captain?”

 

Quinn shook his head, hard, before making eye contact with anybody. “I have learned much of how the plague got here. And what cost it exacted. Now I have a record of one, a Patient Zero, the first to display signs. An ordinary passenger, but he may be our best chance of locating the ultimate source. Whatever that first victim has become, my lord…I think it’s still at large.”

 

“More to kill!” said Broonmark.

 

“Hell yeah!” chorused Nalenne and Pierce.

 

“You just had to encourage them. Didn’t you,” said Vette.

 

“That investigation may have to wait, my lord. Command at Mos Ila has transmitted orders to bring any biological samples we’ve located…” Quinn looked at Pierce, and Broonmark, following his gaze, peeled a ribbon of rakghoul flesh off the soldier’s containment suit “…to the Ridgeside sentry post for analysis. The staff there will want to know what has transpired. And what remains to be done.” He looked off into the distance. “We have to find who did this. This must end.”

 

Nalenne wiped sweat from her forehead. “Yeah, sure, great. Guys, we’re coming back tomorrow! Mayhem awaits!”

Edited September 11, 2012 by bright_ephemera

Great memories of the rakghoul invasion. I was lucky enough to actually be leveling my trooper on Tatooine when it hit. Stayed there all week, well past when I should have shifted to Alderaan. Good stuff!

Ah, rakghouls...that was an exciting week. My poor impoverished Niselle was leveling on Tatooine and kept blowing up because she couldn't scrape together the 2000 credits for an immunization. (Fresh new server, nobody to spot her the cash.) Nalenne would've been laughing her *** off if she knew her sister were that badly off. Good times, that. Good times.

 

20. In which each contributes according to his or her talents (IV/IV)

 

The Sand People have it quite rough;

As if desert and sun weren’t enough,

Their visitors all

Hear a clarion call

To kill them and loot all their stuff.

 

 

The following day was long and gloriously violent. Nalenne and her crew carried a thick coating of dust, ichor, and blood to Ridgeside Sentry Post well after sunsdown.

 

“That was brilliant,” said Nalenne.

 

“Sith clan brings glory,” said Broonmark.

 

“Dunno if Patient One had answers – wasn’t in a condition to talk – but whoo-ee, he had a hell of a death cry!” Pierce turned and high-fived Nalenne as he spoke.

 

“I can’t feel my arms,” said Vette.

 

“Nice fighting, though, Vette,” said Nalenne.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“And I owe you about a week straight in the best spa in known space.”

 

“You sure do.”

 

“Sand Clan mission also great,” said Broonmark.

 

“Ha! Spreading that latest tweaked virulent strain around? Brilliant,” said Nalenne.

 

“Take samples to craft tomorrow’s attack: clever,” said Broonmark.

 

Pierce guffawed. “Seeing the whole Sand People village light up at sunsdown with the glowy-eyes the infected have?”

 

“Plague ‘em ‘til they glow!” cried Nalenne.

 

“Shoot ‘em in the dark!” shouted Pierce.

 

“Yeeeaahh!” they yelled together.

 

Quinn sped up to reach Nalenne’s side. “My lord, I have completed my investigation into the source of the rakghoul outbreak and submitted my report to Imperial High Command.”

 

“You did? I thought you were with us.”

 

“2V was with you for the medical support, my lord. Jaesa and I left to do actual work.”

 

Nalenne blinked. “Really?”

 

Jaesa caught up on Nalenne’s other side. “Yes, master.”

 

“Well, uh, good job! I’ll submit your names for commendations. Except you, Quinn. You’re dead.”

 

“The credit should be yours, my lord.”

 

“Interesting. And you’re still keeping a straight face. Have you ever said that sincerely?”

 

“Always, my lord. Your infecting and slaughtering every Sand Person from Ridgeside to Mos Ila is what cleared the way for Jaesa and myself to investigate."

 

“He didn’t give you too much trouble?” Nalenne asked Jaesa.

 

“Far from it, master. We talked quite a lot. Not only did we successfully trace the beast-smuggling-gone-wrong that led to this outbreak, I gained valuable insight into the harsh realities of a desperate mission, the times you have to make truly hard choices, and the psychological torture of living your last days knowing that your life is already forfeit but that duty still drives you onward.”

 

“Uh-huh. That’s great. You want to go hunt survivors up north, or should we pack up?”

 

“Anchorhead or bust,” urged Pierce.

 

“Republic must go green,” agreed Broonmark.

 

“Some of us need to sleep,” argued Vette.

 

Nalenne found herself yawning. “Mm. Sleep, yeah, good. Tell you what, guys, I think Anchorhead’s too modest for the morning. We need to go big. You know that strain they were working on this morning? Think Corellia. Think Coruscant. Rakghoul party around the galaxy!”

 

“My lord,” gasped Jaesa, “I thought we were seeking containment….”

 

“Sure. Contain it to Republic space. Drop ‘em a present, give their planets a few months to cool off, come back to pick off the valuable stuff. All’s well.”

 

“Her idea is crude, but leans in the right direction,” said Quinn. Jaesa’s eyes went even rounder. “Don’t look so surprised, Jaesa. I may be comparatively civilized, but I’m still Imperial.”

 

“This,” proclaimed Pierce, opening his arms to the silenced desert night, “is everything a job should be.”

The excitement of the outbreak settles, eventually, and life goes on...

 

21. Mini-snippet, In which Quinn customizes 2V-R8

 

The shorter an article reads

The less introduction it needs.

Ergo

 

(Yes, I was too lazy to finish even a bad limerick.)

 

 

Nalenne found Quinn on the bridge as per usual, leaning over a Holonet console while 2V-R8 handled the controls. "I haven't heard 2V talk much lately," said Nalenne. "How did you manage that?"

 

Quinn turned to face her, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "I've constructed a restraining program that filters and silences all tactically irrelevant speech."

 

2V waved a hand and Nalenne found herself straining to listen. "help me"

 

"What was that?" said Nalenne.

 

"It isn't perfect yet," said Quinn. "He has proved remarkably resistant to silencing measures."

 

"master, please save me" creaked 2V.

 

"I like it," said Nalenne. "But why didn't you do this, oh, two years ago when you came on board?"

 

"My lord, I didn't have time for such an involved project. I had work to do."

 

"I gave you plenty of free time."

 

"You know I had other work of critical importance." A long, awkward pause. "Even apart from spying for Baras."

 

"Like finding excuses to hunt down and assassinate everyone who ever shook you down for your lunch money in middle school?"

 

"I told you, Agent Voloren was high school," grumbled Quinn.

 

"Yeah, but the other five...you could've spent that time shutting 2V up?"

 

"2V, you may fabricate a pretext to interrupt with something, even something irrelevant, when the Wrath is badgering me like this."

 

"Ignore that, 2V."

 

"nothing makes sense"

 

"Wow. If you really have some kind of karmic debt to work off, Quinn, I’m willing to go on record saying this contributes. A lot."

nothing makes sense......

LOL that's great. I've been laughing my butt off. "help me!"

After I read the first one I tried to avoid this thread because I knew I would want more. But I couldn't help myself and now I must re-read because I want more. Your Broonmark is fantastic! I will actually think of him this way when I level my other hundred SW's.

Early-morning post duo as your intrepid writer prepares to depart for business travel! I don’t expect this trip to slow posting down, much.

 

22. In which Nalenne gets a job update and Quinn comments

 

The chain of command gets obscure

When cultists keep secrets too pure.

Commands warp and wend

Until by the end

Not a one can be totally sure.

 

 

Pierce opened Nalenne’s bedroom door without knocking. “Incoming call on the main holo, milord.”

 

“Hmph.” Nalenne set down her datapad and went out to answer it.

 

Two heavily ornamented Sith in hooded robes appeared. They radiated cultishness.

 

“Wrath,” said the first Sith.

 

“Um. Can I help you? – Wait, you look really familiar.”

 

The room got very quiet.

 

“Hang on. I’ve got this.”

 

“The Wrath flakes out,” said the second Sith in a strange trembling voice.

 

The first Sith glowered. “We are the Emperor’s Hand. I am Servant One. This is Servant Two. You are under consideration for a personnel review.”

 

“Since when?”

 

“Since you forgot my name,” said Servant One, weighing each word with an impressive level of displeasure. “You, in case you were wondering, are the Emperor’s Wrath.”

 

“I remembered that part,” she said defensively. “I’ve been under a lot of stress. Cut me some slack.”

 

“Yes, arranging the Spectacle Comics bootleg hub must be draining,” intoned the second Sith.

 

“How did you know…have you been watching me?”

 

“We have ways,” said Servant One.

 

“QUINN, IF YOU’VE BEEN SNITCHING AGAIN I WILL KILL YOU.”

 

“That is a matter of concern, Wrath. Your track record on killing your enemies has been dismal of late.”

 

“I destroy everyone who messes with me!”

 

“Except your husband,” said Servant One.

 

“And your sister,” said Servant Two.

 

“And the cute Jedi,” said Servant One.

 

“One-half out of three should count for something,” said Nalenne. “Besides, Jaesa only fought me the once, and I don’t think it was even for keeps. You know how Jedi are.”

 

“The Wrath dodges responsibility,” said Servant Two.

 

“Hey,” said Nalenne. “Is there a mark coming out of this conversation, or are you just here to criticize?”

 

“We are reminding you of your way,” said Servant One. “The Emperor’s attention is bent towards the war with the Republic. You must be seen championing the cause.”

 

Not you, too. “Um. Yeah. I’ll get right on that.”

 

“See that you do.” The line cut.

 

Quinn had entered the room at some point.

 

Nalenne watched him closely. “Do not say ‘I told you so.’”

 

“Of course not, my lord,” he said.

 

“Because you didn’t, actually. You just yell at me in general without specifically discussing my professional prospects.”

 

“I’m not saying anything, my lord.”

 

“You better not.”

 

“I do have a fresh list of available targets of opportunity, my lord, in case you, through some circumstance I did not foresee, do suddenly develop an interest in pursuing something relevant.”

 

“Very smooth. You’re the one who called them here in the first place, aren’t you?”

 

“The Hand? Actually, no, my lord.”

 

“That was an uncommonly bald-faced lie, Quinn.” He was giving her his best victimized look. She got up close and glared up at him. “Lying liar.”

 

When he spoke it was quietly, quickly. Sincerely. “I did not contact them, I swear. I will be no one’s spy, not this time, not to you. I am relieved that someone is finally driving you to action, and I am always ready to support such action, but they must have acted based on their own observations.”

 

“You’re lying, you big snitch.”

 

Quinn looked down into her eyes with that arresting dusk-blue intensity he had. “Nalenne. Believe what you will of me. But if you trust nothing else I have to say, trust me in this.” He leaned in, achingly close. “If I were reporting to them they would have a much, much longer list of grievances against you.”

 

“…Good point.”

 

He nodded and walked around her on his way to the bridge, beckoning 2V to follow. “Setting course for the Sullust system, my lord. Your duties await.”

23. In which Broonmark marks the occasion and Vette wonders why

Tradition’s a difficult thing;

Too often it clips a man’s wing.

But at times it’s excuse

To draw sword and cut loose

And enjoy a cathartic ol’ fling.

 

 

When Nalenne headed out to the reading nook, she found Broonmark already there, replacing a metal contact in his vibrosword. Vette was seated across from him. Both of them looked up when Nalenne arrived.

 

“Sith clan songbird torments us,” gurgled Broonmark.

 

“Uh…songbird?” said Nalenne.

 

“What songbird?” said Vette, suddenly suspicious. “There’s a songbird?”

 

“I think he means you.”

 

“But I don’t sing.”

 

“We hear singing from refresher,” said Broonmark. “Sith clan songbird tends to go flat between verses, but otherwise very good.”

 

“He says he agrees, Vette, you definitely don’t sing.”

 

Vette seemed to relax a few degrees. “That’s what I thought.”

 

“So what’s with the torment?” Nalenne kept her speech in Basic.

 

“Clan songbird asks us our purpose. Over and over.” Broonmark ran a claw down the vibroblade spine’s edge, making it shriek at a tooth-rattling pitch. “And over.”

 

“So she’s curious. Is there a reason you can’t talk about what you’re up to?”

 

“Yeah,” added Vette, giving Broonmark an accusing look. “Is there a reason?”

 

Broonmark examined the sword and swept to his feet, swinging it wide beside him. “This news is for Sith clan. Tomorrow it is one year since we joined.”

 

Nalenne reflected. “So it is.”

 

“So what is?” said Vette.

 

“Clans would hunt and feast for this occasion. On Alzoc, we hunt torsk. On Hoth, we hunt ice cats. Here, we never know what to order for Sith clan.”

 

“I like tacos.”

 

“Now you’re just making stuff up,” said Vette.

 

Broonmark hesitated. “Ice cat tacos, maybe?”

 

“If you like.”

 

“Must we eat the shell?”

 

“Not if you don’t want to.”

 

“Sith clan is the greatest clan.”

 

“Ice cat, then. Happy anniversary, Broonmark. We’ll hunt tomorrow.”

 

The Talz activated his vibrosword and buzzed with excitement. “Tomorrow we hunt, Sith clan.”

 

“This entire conversation turned out to be about killing things, didn’t it,” said Vette.

 

“What did you expect when you asked him why he was doing maintenance on the sword?”

 

“Definitely not songbirds and tacos, I can tell you that much.”

 

“You should learn Talz. The not-killing stuff can surprise you.”

 

“But in some ways,” said Vette, “the mystery makes it that much more enjoyable.”

 

“No taco shells, just meat,” sang Broonmark, and happily beatboxed his way out of the room, keeping time with the swing of the vibrosword.

Edited June 12, 2012 by bright_ephemera

Your Broonmark is fantastic! I will actually think of him this way when I level my other hundred SW's.

 

Ah-ha, I'm not the only Sith Warrior junkie! Nalenne currently exists only in these stories, because the idea of rolling a fourth Warrior feels ridiculous. And yet...and yet...I am so terribly tempted.

 

For the purposes of the following commentary, the warring factions in my head will be represented by Attention-Seeking Jawa and Cynical Rakghoul Engineer :

 

: 1000 pageviews! Yay!

 

: This number is wildly inflated by the habit you have of posting many short items, such that people have to come back six times per day to catch everything.

 

: But...there's a thousand of them...a thousand is a nice number of pageviews to have...

 

: While your inner marketer, if we had an inner marketer, might approve, don't be too proud of this textual terror you've constructed. It's true that this narrative, and more importantly Extremely Flaky Creative Mind's attention span, is best served by many short posts. But the resulting numbers are likely to represent many repeat views from a relatively small population, with some secondary effects from people who drive by purely because they're curious about the sheer volume of posts. Remember, in the absence of both context and a thorough understanding of the system, numbers lie.

 

: ...it was a good number.

 

: Yeah, I'll quit raining on your parade now. But you better hope that Extremely Flaky Creative Mind gets back to work before you run out of content, Attention-Seeking Jawa, or else nobody on the Internet will love you.*

 

: Not to worry, guys, I got this...when it's ready. *goes back to sleep*

 

:

 

 

* Yes, CRE is a jerk. It's okay. ASJ can't stand up to her, but CRE can't crush every head-faction's self-esteem at once.

 

Thanks for reading, everybody! There's still more to come

Edited June 12, 2012 by bright_ephemera

24. In which Jaesa’s reading habits come to light

 

A Sith and a Jedi confined

On a ship where their goals aren’t aligned

Will balance, we pray,

In a sensible way,

Else they’ll drive themselves out of their minds.

 

 

Nalenne was in the habit of checking the Helicarrier’s data transfer logs. Ever since the whole ‘Quinn has been sending extra reports to Baras on the side’ thing, it seemed prudent. For the most part, Nalenne declined to judge or comment on the prodigious media consumption habits of the crew. However, one title caught her eye.

 

Nalenne went to Jaesa’s quarters and knocked. “Come in,” said the Jedi.

 

Jaesa was sitting crosslegged on her bunk. The glow of a serene Force meditation faded from around her as she opened her eyes. “Hi,” she said.

 

“Hello. I was just reviewing the data transfer logs and couldn’t help but notice a major stream from one of my favorite Republic media-smuggling hubs.”

 

“Is that so, master?” Jaesa was absolutely terrible at looking innocent.

 

“Yeah. You’re devouring the Mynock series faster than even I can read. Really? Is that what you’re into? Where did you even hear about the Mynock?

 

“From one of your Ultraguy crossovers. Turns out the Mynock has a huge mythos of his own.”

 

“I never liked him. A guy who works up all that rage, only to not kill people, is doing it wrong.”

 

“He’s declining to pay forward the violence that brought him into being. I really sympathize with him.”

 

“You shouldn’t. He’s crazy and has nothing in common with you.”

 

“His parents are dead. My parents are dead.”

 

“You said you understood why I had to do that!”

 

“It could still be the motivator for my career of evil-fighting.”

 

“I thought we were friends!”

 

Jaesa unfolded her legs and leaned toward Nalenne. “But that’s the fascinating thing. Mynock and the Prankster – the Prankster didn’t kill his parents specifically in some continuities, but hear me out – they have one of the most intimate relationships in the entire Coruscant Comics canon. The same system created them, it’s just that one broke one way and the other broke…well, the other. Here we are, two sides of the same coin. The mad destroyer and the troubled protector. We’re natural enemies, but neither one of us can kill the other: the truth of our existence lies in our eternal opposition. I complete you. You complete me.”

 

“Jaesa, that is the most disturbing thing you have ever said.”

 

“I’m just saying I see the parallels.”

 

“And we don't even oppose each other that much, outside sabacc nights. If you do start following me around foiling my every plan, I’m going to be that writer who says ‘screw it’ and actually kills you off. Mynock-girl.”

 

“Someday some writer will get sick of you and will give you a moment’s clarity, one reason for true compassion, and we’ll all see what happens then. Prankster. I hope it redeems you, but I think it’ll break you.”

 

“Doesn’t matter what you do to the Prankster. He’ll always be back. You may think this wicked galaxy needs you, Jaesa…but it wants me.”

 

Nalenne strutted back out. And straight to her own room’s console, where she prepared to cut off access to that particular Holonet hub for every user but herself.

 

She hesitated, though. Every minute Jaesa spent overthinking comic books was a minute she wasn’t trying to overthrow the Empire. And the entire point of keeping her around was to keep her from that crusade of hers. Let her try to destroy the fabric of Imperial society…or let her sit around drawing up morality lectures based on comparisons with supervillains. Fabric of society…supervillain morality lectures.

 

The things I do for the Empire. Nalenne set her teeth and subscribed Jaesa to two additional Mynock series.

25. In which a widow and her husband reminisce

 

There once was an impotent Wrath

Who failed at her tactical math.

A rumor made rounds

That her mercy abounds,

And now users and fools line her path.

 

 

“Question for you, captain. Do you ever get sleepy?”

 

“No, my lord.”

 

“Hungry?”

 

“No.”

 

“Thirsty?”

 

“No.”

 

“Itchy?”

 

“No.”

 

“Horn-“

 

“No.”

 

“Wow. You stand around feeling nothing all day?”

 

“Nothing physical, my lord.”

 

“Ooh, I like the air of melancholy. It suits you.”

 

“You always were a sadist, my lord. Are you sure you don’t have work to do?”

 

“I’m sure. Emperor’s giving me the silent treatment. I can’t even raise any of the Hand on holo to put together a sabacc night – um, or work, of course. Ilum’s gotten boring, Corellia’s a snooze….”

 

“The extension of the Empire’s interests in this war is not a snooze!”

 

“Says the man who doesn’t have to sleep.”

 

“I remember a time when you were much more dedicated to your duties.”

 

“Yeah? Well, I remember a time when you weren’t launching killer robots at my face.”

 

Nalenne sulked for a minute or two. Quinn was too dignified to sulk; he just stood there emanating displeasure, which was very different.

 

“I knew it was coming,” said Nalenne.

 

“My lord?”

 

“You. Baras’s order to kill me. There are always spies, and logically it had to be you or Vette, and it didn’t seem to fit Vette, so when things went south…I knew.”

 

“But you let me go to the trouble of setting all that up, and then killed me anyway.”

 

“I didn’t know how to bring it up. ‘Good morning, beloved, by the way I know you’ll have to shiv me soon so I think we should take some time apart’? Besides, I know how you pride yourself on setting up surprises. I didn’t want to ruin it, not if you were determined not to talk.” She paused, but he stayed quiet, so she kept going. “And then I had to do it. I can’t just go around sparing people to try to assassinate me.”

 

“You’ve spared Niselle.”

 

“That’s different. She’s my sister.”

 

“And Jaesa.”

 

“That’s different. She’s trustworthy.”

 

“And was I not different, my lord?”

 

“No, you really wer…that is, you’re not…you’re different, okay, but you’re so different you actually wrap around and have to go by the rules again. So there.”

 

They didn’t say anything for a while.

 

“For the record,” she informed him, “it was really upsetting. I can’t believe you went behind my back, never once tried to talk things through, and then screwed it up that badly. It just wasn’t like you.”

 

“Maybe you could have asked me about it afterward if you hadn’t summarily executed me.”

 

“Maybe I’m asking now.”

 

“I’m dead, my lord.” Quinn clenched his jaw in that old familiar way he had. “I have no further insights to offer you.”

 

“Don’t give me that. Stars, I would’ve shut you up by now.”

 

“And I would’ve had you screaming.” He reached out and she met his hand halfway. She felt nothing at all where his fingers passed through hers. “This fighting isn’t really the same since, well….”

 

“Since it transitioned into sex every time? Yeah. It used to be fun. Pity you had to ruin it by picking a real fight.”

 

Quinn scowled. “You wildly overreacted that day.”

 

“And what part of this surprised you, oh research-prediction-tactical genius who knew me better than anyone else ever has or will?”

 

He raised a hand to his throat. “The part where you actually did it! I thought you cared for me.”

 

“For a guy who claims to not feel anything, you’re awfully touchy.”

 

“For a woman who claimed to love me, you’re awfully murderous.”

 

Nalenne waved. “Sith. What’s your excuse?”

 

Quinn froze. She didn’t often play the Sith card because, hilarious though it was to watch him fold into abject obedience mode, she liked him better when he let his inner master-villain out to play. Or, at a minimum, his inner arrogant, demanding, charmingly excitable individual.

 

Ah, but there: face composed, mental wheels spinning as invisibly as he could manage, and submissive transformation complete. “I apologize, my lord,” he said quietly. “That was inappropriate of me.”

 

“Psht, don’t worry about it. Get back to work.” We’ll deal with the rest of this later.

26. In which Nalenne asks Pierce a long-suppressed question

 

There once was a soldier who heard

That “authority” wasn’t a word.

He would win, and repeat,

Each objective complete,

But still flipped all his bosses the bird.

 

 

“Pierce?”

 

“Yes, milord?”

 

“We’ve known each other for a while now. Been through a lot together, you know? You’ve always come through when I needed you.”

 

He didn’t look up from the blaster rifle he was fiddling with. “That’s so.”

 

Nalenne took a deep breath. “I’ve really…enjoyed…getting to know you so far. So I had…I had a question. It’s been on my mind for a while.”

 

He eyed her warily. “Say it or don’t, milord.”

 

“What’s your first name?”

 

He threw his head back and laughed. “Ha! Wouldn’t you like to know!”

 

“Even your permanent record doesn’t say anything.”

 

“Had a friend clear that long ago. Earn his slicing creds before I set him up for promotion. Won’t tell you how to find him, though.”

 

“First name. I want to know.”

 

“It’s ‘Lieutenant,’ milord,” he said slyly. “At least until you figure out a way to double-promote me to ‘Major’ Pierce. – ‘Captain’ is still out of the question in this crowd.”

 

“I could just assign you a name. Something awful, like ‘Archiban.’ And address you by it twenty times a day.”

 

“Do as you like. Won’t bother me.”

 

It really wouldn’t, too. That was the problem with Pierce. Nothing fazed him; if he didn’t feel like listening to her, she had no hold over him. “What difference does it make to you, lieutenant? Why so protective?”

 

“That’s my own dark secret.”

 

There were words normal people used to get results. “Tell me, um, please?”

 

“Nope. Milord.”

 

“I order you to tell me.”

 

“Nope. Milord.” Before she could think of an answer for that bald defiance, he chuckled and went on. “If you were searching my permanent record you’ll remember the noted history of insubordination.”

 

“I could kill your family one by one until you answer me.”

 

“You could,” he said, casual as ever. “Can’t say I fancy the idea, but you could certainly give it a shot.”

 

“So you’ll just leave me wondering forever?”

 

He turned the blaster rifle upright and checked the barrel’s alignment. “That’s about the shape of it, milord. A man’s got to have some secrets.” He laughed again.

 

Nalenne considered the offended flounce, but that never seemed appropriate around Pierce. So she opted for stalking toward the door.

 

“Hey. Milord.”

 

“Yes?”

 

Still grinning, Pierce set the blaster down and looked up at her. “Not sure I’ve ever thanked you for taking me on. The fights, the tech, the driving you to distraction…I’d never have had this much fun anywhere else.”

 

“You’re an evil man.”

 

“Which is just what you need around here.”

 

She couldn't argue with that. Historically, there was never any point whatsoever in arguing with Pierce.

It's Pierce! It's Pierce!! So excited! (Lol, and I had to laugh at the name inquisition, very nice.)

RIGHT??!! Why doesn't Pierce have a name??? this has been bugging me ever since my Husband played his SW....poor Dave. That's his name in my head.

27. In which Nalenne meets someone and some disapprove (I/II)

 

The Emperor’s Hand may at first

Seem a mutant, a freak at its worst.

Servant Ten may seem fine,

Twenty crosses the line…

All-hands meetings are full fit to burst.

 

 

Hate men. Hate all men. All men are sneaky jerk annoying taskmaster jerks. Jerks. I’ll just stay at home reading the Scarlet Nexu's Revenge ‘til doomsday.

 

“Master, holo for you.”

 

Nalenne eyed Jaesa suspiciously and rolled over to tap her bedside console and check current system activity. “It’s the Hand. Disregard.”

 

“That’s the thing, Master, I can’t. They’ve taken over the main holo. But it’s…it’s not Servants One and Two.”

 

Nalenne raised her hairless eyebrows. “Is that so?”

 

“You’d better see.”

 

Nalenne growled wordlessly and followed Jaesa to the holo room. Most of the crew was settled in or near the reading nook, but Nalenne didn’t notice them at first.

 

“I see,” said Nalenne.

 

A lone stranger stood in the holo image. He was tall, slim, and somehow successful in making the uniform robe of the Emperor’s Hand look flattering. His hood was pulled back, allowing a dark wavy mane to fall to his shoulders. His distinguished Sith features had enough facial tentacles and golden ornaments to make the staunchest traditionalist smile in approval.

 

“Wrath,” he said in a cultured, melodic tenor. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.” He bowed and smiled, warmly. “I am Servant Nine.”

 

“Where have you been hiding?” she said stupidly.

 

“Secret locations doing rituals of unimaginable power, for the most part. The Emperor’s Hand keeps me busy. I’ve been aching to get out, though. See this galaxy we’re going to rule.” A small, conspiratorial smile. “Meet the Wrath I’ve heard so much about.”

 

Brain, girl. Think brain good. “I think I would be willing to help with that last part of your plan.”

 

“I was hoping so. I can arrange a private dinner on a good view shuttle, say, tomorrow night? Name the system, Wrath. I haven’t been free to tour in a long time.”

 

*

 

Once she had stammered out a destination and hung up, silence fell in the holo room. Nalenne took a minute to process what had just happened. It appeared to be the first time anybody had ever asked her on a date in her entire life. It was direct. It was nice.

 

It was a non-Talz man who wasn’t trying to make her life difficult.

 

“It sounds like a trap, my lord,” said Quinn from the direction of the reading nook.

 

“No one asked for your tactical evaluation, Quinny,” said Vette.

 

“We smell betrayal,” said Broonmark.

 

“Ignore the carpet,” said Pierce.

 

“That Sith is evil,” shuddered Jaesa.

 

“Hey. People. Guess how many of you get any input whatsoever into my activities tomorrow night?”

 

Pierce raised his eyebrows in his “I have a really good line but I’m just too nice a guy to say it also I might get Force Choked for it” way. Wisely, he said nothing.

 

“No not-me person,” concluded Nalenne. “That’s who gets input.”

 

“Servant Nine is not known to us,” bubbled Broonmark.

 

“He’s of the Emperor’s Hand, master,” said Jaesa. “You’re the Emperor’s Wrath. Isn’t that…well, incest or something?”

 

“In every Imperial jurisdiction I'm aware of,” confirmed Quinn.

 

“Let her have her fun, you whiners,” said Pierce.

 

“The snows themselves condemn this rashness,” opined Broonmark. “Be ready to kill.”

 

“If you need that dress of yours touched up, I know a good tailor. I know you haven’t worn it in a while, and you will want to look great,” said Vette.

 

“Thanks, Vette, Pierce. The rest of you, your concerns are noted. My date’s on.”

Edited June 13, 2012 by bright_ephemera