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The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!


elliotcat

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This is what happens when you don't have running water on ship. You run the lid under warm water then tap it on the counter-top, if it still doesn't open fetch your man. I mostly got around the problem by not having jars. If I had a kitchen blowtorch though I'd probably try using and accidentally set the labels on fire. Kitchen blowtorches are essentially mini welders...

 

 

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Allies - When something huge is going down, or just when you need a hand, who can you call that you know is going to have your back? Whether it's someone completely unlikely or exactly what you'd expect, who can you ultimately always rely on?

 

 

Title: The Dark Path, Forever

Character: Varrel Umrahiel, Sith Marauder, with a cameo by my friend’s Sith Sorcerer, Xathras.

 

Small background note, since it’s different from the way the class story is written: Varrel Umrahiel is 63-64 years old here, recruited late in life from a conquered world. On his homeworld, he’d been a fencing/kendo instructor.

 

Spoilers for Imperial Balmorra general missions, minor mention of Dromund Kaas and Korriban general missions. No class spoilers.

 

Vette is the voice of my character’s conscience, one he increasingly ignores. Yet he can’t bring himself to get rid of her, and against all reason, she stays with him.

 

 

Varrel sat on a stone outside the cave. The smell of smoke and burned flesh filled his nostrils, despite the breeze. He stared at the dark rocks making up the mountainside. The sun sank behind the hills, casting the valley in purple shadow. He heard the screams of dying men and closed his eyes. He rubbed his temples. His pureblooded companion was not yet tired of slaughter and slaked his bloodlust with Balmorra’s resistance forces. Rooting out a few remaining pockets of guerrillas from their emplacements along the valley’s road. The Empire, no doubt, would be pleased.

 

But not all the cries were Xathras’ victims. Some were his: the young, the old, the untrained hiding in the cave. He still heard them, still saw their faces behind his closed eyes. He never killed people who couldn’t fight back. Never before. There was no honor in it. Yet for all his revulsion, he still heard the high, sweet song of battle. Still felt the current of fear and death in the air. In the Force, he corrected. Part of him wanted to pick up his sabers and fight, follow the dark siren’s call, and damn the consequences.

 

“Varrel,” Vette said, speaking from behind his shoulder, “That’s…that wasn’t like you,” she said, choosing her words with care.

 

Umrahiel straightened his back and looked toward the cave entrance. He imagined he could see smoke drifting out of it. “I had no choice,” he said.

 

He felt her hand touch his shoulder, “You could have let them go,” she said.

 

Anger roiled in his mind, a caged nexu pacing before its bars. He fought to keep it out of his voice, “They were force-sensitive,” he said.

 

“They were helpless,” pleaded Vette.

 

His fury broke free. Varrel sprang to his feet and spun to face her. “The law is clear,” he snarled. Vette shrank from his glare. “That was me, not so long ago,” he said, pointing at the cave, “Would you say I am helpless?” he shouted.

 

“No, I—“

 

“I sent my own students to the Sith. My own granddaughter,” he shouted. Vette quailed. He felt a twinge of pain at her fearful expression. But rage overrode all, “I watched them fail and die on Dromund Kaas, on Korriban. Yet I should spare these? These who fight against the Empire? I should show them more mercy than I did my own flesh and blood?”

 

“I didn’t know—“ she pleaded. She stepped away from him, her hands warding him off.

 

“What you know is irrelevant,” he snapped, “it is not your place to question. You will follow my commands,” his heart was racing now. He needed to move. He needed to fight. Bloodrage hummed, like a wire stretched tight. “Find Xathras. Find his monster,” he ordered.

 

Vette backed away, “Yes. Of course,” she said. She turned and jogged off in the direction of the road.

 

Varrel put his hands to his temples, massaging them. He had the beginning of a murderous headache. He wanted to leave this world. Leave it in blood. He blinked at the thought. Vette was right. This was not like him.

 

He shook his head. No. There was nothing wrong. He was being reborn. The old woman at the Korriban Academy, the guide amongst the Revanite heretics…both of them spoke of rebirth. Dying and being reborn. “All children are born in blood,” he muttered. Blood and pain.

 

He did not see Vette stop and turn at his words. Did not realize he has even spoken aloud. When he looked up, she was already farther ahead. He made haste toward the sounds of battle.

 

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Like the first, only player character is Rogan't, represented by Rochester:

 

Allies (again):

 

 

One of Darth Yt'klor's many slaves bowed before Lord Naught. The man was bent at the waist, his hands upon his knees, with eyes fixed to the floor. The position looked incredibly uncomfortable. Briefly Broan considered allowing the slave to stand, but stopped himself. The last slave to have done so had been quite severely chastised, in spite of Broan's protests. Instead he simply read the note. It appeared to be a set of brief instructions, telling him to attend a popular holodrama before having a meal at restaurant.

 

"And Lord Vizloch instructed you to give me this, did she?"

 

"Indeed, my Lord." Broan nodded. The slave left in silence, making sure to close the door and reactivate the lock. He sighed and re-read the note. He had a vague inkling of why Lord Vizloch would have sent him such a message, but could not fathom her reasoning for it. Setting the slide aside, Lord Naught attempted to return to his work. It was difficult for him to concentrate, not least because of this strange request. Since his arrival in Darth Yt'klor's service a little over a month ago he had not once set foot outside the mansion. He had barely been out of his room. A Jedi should have been able to deal with such isolation, but Broan had never been an exemplary Jedi. Leaving the treatise on Inner Peace: The Hypocrisy of the Jedi's use of Knowledge and Wisdom for a moment, he read the note again. The holodrama was apparently a classic in Imperial space. That was all there was on the drama: 'a classic' and the names of the director and chief actors. Broan cringed at the thought. He had heard of Imperial dramas before and they did not come with a good reputation. Surely Lord Vizloch knew his misgivings. Had she done this out of spite or an attempt to make him more like a Sith?

 

The last item of the note struck him as particularly unusual. There was a dress code. In essence he was being directed to wear something respectable and comfortable. Perhaps, he thought in mild horror, this was how Sith courtship was handled. Lord Vizloch was married, though. Broan ran his hands over his head, thinking it over. How exactly did Sith women conduct their private business? Sith themselves were famed for their vices, it would not be beyond them to have affairs. He did not have much of a choice in the matter. He could possibly dissuade her over dinner, he had been quite the diplomat when working within the Republic.

 

He checked the note one last time. The date and time were for two days hence. He had time to prepare. Set on this course he returned to the treatise. Not five minutes later he was fast asleep.

 

~

 

"Sir?" Lieutenant Windthorpe knocked gently at the door frame. Captain Gorse was engrossed in a report and did not turn as he waved Rochester in. He placed a slide down on the captain's desk so that it could be read. "My presence has been requested in Kaas City, again. Lord Vizloch wishes to speak with me."

 

Captain Gorse sighed and picked up the small slide. He looked over the information once, then tossed it back on the desk.

 

"Looks to me like she's setting you up on a date. Your mother should stop meddling in your affairs. Sith or not, you're a grown man." He casually leant back in his chair and propped his feet on the edge of the desk. Though his demeanour now was dismissive, he was a model Imperial when around Sith.

 

"Unlike my father, she acts in my best interests, hard as that is to believe." Rochester retrieved the small slide and hide it away in his jacket.

 

"Aren't you engaged to that cousin of yours? Lord..." Captain Gorse waved his hands around, indicating for Rochester to continue.

 

"Stion'n, sir. My second cousin though marriage, I might add. Nothing official has been arranged, I believe she is trying to keep her options open." He rolled his shoulders to ease the tension in his back. There was a reason why Lord Stion'n had not agreed immediately; a reason Captain Gorse was privy to, but not very tactful about.

 

"You're not as dumb as you look, Lieutenant."

 

"That's not... that's..." Rochester sighed. "May I please have my leave, sir?" Captain Gorse snorted, nodding. There was nothing that he could say, neither were in a position to deny the request.

 

~

 

The night arrived and Lord Naught was nervous. He had not spoken to or seen Lord Vizloch in the days leading up and he was beginning to forget his arguments as the hour drew near. He was stood in the hall of the theatre, trying not to fidget. Mirialin were rare enough in the Empire and here was a Sith, wearing the braids of a Jedi, all on his own.

 

"Lord Naught?"

 

"R--? Lieutenant Windthorpe." Broan smiled slightly, completely discarding his worries.

 

 

 

Yeah.

Probably a bit... very... crap. I'm half asleep and wrote it entirely whilst half asleep. Don't ask me what's going on, I don't even know.

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Evil Lids

 

Trooper - extremely minor relationship spoilers

 

 

Aric paused in his supply checking as his mate stomped past the door, swearing under her breath the whole time.

 

"What are you doing?" he asked as she stomped back with an arc welder in hand, still swearing.

 

"Stupid lid won't come off the *%#%#*& jar," she growled heading toward the mess hall, determination in every stomp.

 

"So you're going to take it off with a welder?? Damn it, woman, did it ever occur to you to ask for help?!?" he demanded, following her down the stairs.

 

"I am CO of Havoc Squad. I've lead troops into a ton of battles, killed more Sith Lords than I can keep track of, and saved the Republic so often I'm beginning to wonder if I should just let it fry. I should be able to open a damn jar!!"

 

She hit the button to light the welder and then glared at Aric when he reached around and shut it off.

 

"Ask."

 

She glared at him harder.

 

"The welder is overkill and you know it. Ask."

 

She slammed the welder down on the counter and crossed her arms. Her teeth ground against each other, "Would you open the jar for me. Please."

 

Aric picked up the jar and twisted it. The lid popped. Sana glared at the jar.

 

"Was that so hard?" he asked with a slight grin.

 

"Shut up."

 

Author's Note:

 

I'm not sure where the mess hall is in the trooper ship, but if there's one thing I know about soldiers, you make sure they're fed, so I'm sure it's there somewhere.

 

This made me laugh, and also weirded me out.....cause that is the dynamic between my husband and me. Cept my hubs will find me banging on a jar with like a knife or other object.

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This made me laugh, and also weirded me out.....cause that is the dynamic between my husband and me. Cept my hubs will find me banging on a jar with like a knife or other object.

 

Lol, actually the direct inspiration was two of my sisters fighting with a jar and my brother walking in, except neither of them were as reasonable as my trooper. At that point IT WAS WAR!!! And as much as my brother bugged them, they insisted on opening the jar themselves. I think it ended up taking hot water, a bottle opener, and about half an hour, but they got it. Probably a good thing too, they were discussing hacksaws but couldn't figure out how to keep the glass shards from getting into the food.

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Lol, actually the direct inspiration was two of my sisters fighting with a jar and my brother walking in, except neither of them were as reasonable as my trooper. At that point IT WAS WAR!!! And as much as my brother bugged them, they insisted on opening the jar themselves. I think it ended up taking hot water, a bottle opener, and about half an hour, but they got it. Probably a good thing too, they were discussing hacksaws but couldn't figure out how to keep the glass shards from getting into the food.

 

Fantastic! I'm still giggling just imagining the look on Aric's face when he first reaches the kitchen...

 

For my second submission, I don't usually make Ruth out to be silly, but a certain link in the alliance-seeking Sith Warrior Corellian chain had "ME DUMB LIKE BRICK" written all over it. So have 700 words about that:

Ruth rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath. After days of searching…and a great deal of smashing security measures…she was finally within reach of Darth Vowrawn of the Dark Council, Darth Baras’s greatest opponent and her best chance for an alliance to cast down Baras the pretender.

 

She rounded the corner of the big hallway. The security chief, one Lord Haresh according to her sources, stood alone before a forcefield.

 

“What?” said the short sour-looking Zabrak. “The alarms didn’t sound. How did you get in here?”

 

Several possible answers ran through her head. “By taking advantage of the fact that whoever’s in charge of protecting this place is flamingly incompetent?”

 

“That would be me,” he said coldly.

 

“Hm. Maybe I started this wrong. I’d like to speak with your master.”

 

“So Baras’s most deadly apprentice has finally found us. My master has been on to you from the beginning, you know.”

 

“So…he’ll be thrilled to talk to me. Right?”

 

“He will at least be happy to survey your remains. Vowrawn can smell Baras’s ploys a thousand light years away. He knows your quarrel with Baras is a ruse, orchestrated to get you close enough to strike. So drop the act.”

 

“Not an act. An attempt at conversation. Where we talk, and preferably weapons don’t come out?”

 

A tall man was approaching the forcefield from the other side. “Haresh. Is there a problem?”

 

Haresh simply pointed. “The week’s least subtle assassin.”

 

“Hi. I’m Ruth Niral. I seek a non-bloody audience with Darth Vowrawn.”

 

“You’re Baras’s creature.”

 

“Funny story there.”

 

Haresh cut her off. “Help me dispose of her.”

 

“Would you stop that?”

 

“Surrender your weapon,” growled the tall man, “and you may enter.”

 

“Not likely. I mean that in the most respectful way possible.”

 

The tall man drew his saber.

 

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Honestly.” A carefully focused Force strike through the forcefield knocked the tall man to the ground, unconscious. Then she faced a snarling Haresh. He ran a couple of flourishes with his sabers. Ruth batted the first strike away and dove in to hit him hard with the pommel of her saber. He grunted. A second precision Force strike knocked him over.

 

Ruth moved to the control panel for the forcefield and let herself in.

 

A distinguished-looking Pureblood in well-tailored red robes was standing at the head of the long table in the conference room she found herself in. He gave her the strangest warm smile as she approached. “I applaud you,” he said. “Convey my congratulations to your master for his superior gameplay. The kill is yours. I ask only that I not suffer the indignity of decapitation.”

 

“I’ve been trying to tell your people, I don’t want anybody decapitating anybody,” she said. “Darth Baras and I had something of a tiff. The details aren’t terribly interesting, but I will stop at nothing to bring him down. I want to discuss an alliance.”

 

“You have me dead to rights. Nothing more can be gained by maintaining such a deception.”

 

“The one time in my life I’m not deceiving anybody, and you all decide it’s national paranoia week! Who do I have to kill to convince you I’m on your side?”

 

Vowrawn smiled delightedly. “If you are serious, then the game is renewed!”

 

“Now we’re getting somewhere. …We are getting somewhere, right? This isn’t another lead-in to a completely unnecessary battle?”

 

“Oh, we’re getting somewhere,” beamed Vowrawn. “Yes, I believe that with my help you can defeat Darth Baras.”

 

“Finally! If that’s settled, I should apologize about your Sith guards there. They should be fine, I haven’t accidentally killed anyone with that move in weeks. And I’m really sorry about half of your security forces outside. I spared as many as I could. And I’m sorry about the last few Imperial officers I killed, I know we were using them for the war effort but they were also Baras’s agents and, well, at least some of the Imperial army’s command structure is still intact. I’m sure it’s enough to keep the Corellian push going.”

 

Vowrawn’s smile only slipped for a moment. “Yes, I believe that with a lot of my help you can defeat Darth Baras.”

 

 

Edited by bright_ephemera
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Another SW post.

 

Spoilers...you know, that big one. This happens that night, after my SW has had a chance to digest what just happened.

 

 

Ardyth had not been able to sleep. He was there, sleeping, soundly she noticed. Her anger flared again. She could kill him, now, in his sleep, he shifted in his sleep, making the faintest of sighing sounds, and her heart rebelled for the second time.

 

She got out of bed then. She had to be away from him, she didn't trust herself to let him sleep through the night unharmed. The ship slept, she wandered room to room, aimless, angry, heartbroken, she wanted to scream, she wanted to burst, and yes, she wanted to cry, but she dared not. She heard then a noise coming from the armory.

 

Pierce couldn't sleep, so he cleaned every last weapon they had, meticulously, the repetition calmed his mind, helped him think. Something had changed, something on that ship her and Quinn had boarded had affected her deeply, he could feel it. He knew something didn't seem right about that mission, he was black ops, he knew the ins and out of warfare, and his gut told him something had gone wrong. He didn't trust Quinn, didn't trust his intel, and had pulled her aside to tell her as much, but to her, Quinn could do no wrong.

 

"He's been with me a long time Pierce, I trust him" she had said. Ardyth remembered those words, they rang in her head. Pierce had known, had felt something about Quinn, and she had been so blinded by love that she had dismissed his concerns, seeing only two strong willed men at odds with each other. She wasn't surprised to see the lieutenant furiously scrubbing the inside of the barrel of a rifle, the rest of the disassembled weapon on the workbench waiting for his attention. His big hands handled the the instrument quite nimbly, not clumsy, but sure. He stopped what he was doing and carefully placed the barrel beside the rest of the pieces and looked up at her.

 

"What happened?" he asked, his rough voice, quiet, steady. His grey eyes looking at her, through her, he would smell a lie immediately.

 

She couldn't form words, Pierce had a way of disarming her with a look, with a word, she had flirted with him, but had kept her distance. Quinn called him a mindless brute, but Quinn was wrong, Pierce had a sharp mind, too sharp sometimes. Ardyth vowed to heed his council more often, to trust his instincts.

 

"My Lord?" Pierce stood up, he tried to catch her eyes again, those bright yellow eyes of hers, but she looked away, unable to meet his. Something had gone wrong then, he had been right, and she knew, but something held her back. Quinn.

 

"What did he do?" his voice growled now, he wasn't stupid, Ardyth looked up, he was standing very close, she could smell his scent, metal and sweat. She felt his energy, he was wound like a Manka cat, ready to pounce at a moments notice. He could do it, he would kill him without a second thought. Her heart betrayed her a third time. She caught his look, swallowed the lump forming in her throat, keeping her silent.

 

"He tried to kill me." She finally said, and the whole story came pouring out, like a flood, and she felt hot tears on her cheeks, no longer able to hold them in, her words started getting caught up on that lump and her voice broke.

"I let him live, he should be dead, but I let him live, because I can't bear the thought of him dead. I'm weak, how could I have let him live, damn him, damn the love I have for him, it makes me less of a Sith, it shames me" She felt rough fingers on her face then, calloused thumbs wiping away her tears, she heard him shushing her, like a child, she closed her eyes and let him.

 

Pierce hated Quinn, hated him with a red hot hate, like embers that keep feeding a fire. He hated him when he realized she loved him, he hated him more now for the pain he had caused. She had to stop, he couldn't kill Quinn for her, but he could help her now, he would do what he could for her.

 

Ardyth felt his arms go around her, held her tight, felt one large hand on the back on her head, stroking her hair, and she cried, great heaving cries into his chest, her hands clutched at his shirt, feeling like she might drown if she let go. Not once did he tell her he told her so, not once did he renew his offer to kill him, he just held her, while she let the emotion wash over her, cleanse her, it would make her strong, but before it could make her strong it would strip her to the core. Pierce was her life line. Eventually her sobs stopped, the hand that been in her hair moved to her chin, he tipped her face up, he kissed her forehead, she felt him breath her in, felt his other arm tighten around her waist, he kissed her cheeks, as if the tears had burned her where they had fallen. Then his lips were on hers, and her arms were around his neck, pulling him closer, needing him, needing this moment.

 

The meticulously cleaned pieces of rifle fell to the ground.

 

 

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Another SW post.

 

Spoilers...you know, that big one. This happens that night, after my SW has had a chance to digest what just happened.

 

 

Ardyth had not been able to sleep. He was there, sleeping, soundly she noticed. Her anger flared again. She could kill him, now, in his sleep, he shifted in his sleep, making the faintest of sighing sounds, and her heart rebelled for the second time.

 

She got out of bed then. She had to be away from him, she didn't trust herself to let him sleep through the night unharmed. The ship slept, she wandered room to room, aimless, angry, heartbroken, she wanted to scream, she wanted to burst, and yes, she wanted to cry, but she dared not. She heard then a noise coming from the armory.

 

Pierce couldn't sleep, so he cleaned every last weapon they had, meticulously, the repetition calmed his mind, helped him think. Something had changed, something on that ship her and Quinn had boarded had affected her deeply, he could feel it. He knew something didn't seem right about that mission, he was black ops, he knew the ins and out of warfare, and his gut told him something had gone wrong. He didn't trust Quinn, didn't trust his intel, and had pulled her aside to tell her as much, but to her, Quinn could do no wrong.

 

"He's been with me a long time Pierce, I trust him" she had said. Ardyth remembered those words, they rang in her head. Pierce had known, had felt something about Quinn, and she had been so blinded by love that she had dismissed his concerns, seeing only two strong willed men at odds with each other. She wasn't surprised to see the lieutenant furiously scrubbing the inside of the barrel of a rifle, the rest of the disassembled weapon on the workbench waiting for his attention. His big hands handled the the instrument quite nimbly, not clumsy, but sure. He stopped what he was doing and carefully placed the barrel beside the rest of the pieces and looked up at her.

 

"What happened?" he asked, his rough voice, quiet, steady. His grey eyes looking at her, through her, he would smell a lie immediately.

 

She couldn't form words, Pierce had a way of disarming her with a look, with a word, she had flirted with him, but had kept her distance. Quinn called him a mindless brute, but Quinn was wrong, Pierce had a sharp mind, too sharp sometimes. Ardyth vowed to heed his council more often, to trust his instincts.

 

"My Lord?" Pierce stood up, he tried to catch her eyes again, those bright yellow eyes of hers, but she looked away, unable to meet his. Something had gone wrong then, he had been right, and she knew, but something held her back. Quinn.

 

"What did he do?" his voice growled now, he wasn't stupid, Ardyth looked up, he was standing very close, she could smell his scent, metal and sweat. She felt his energy, he was wound like a Manka cat, ready to pounce at a moments notice. He could do it, he would kill him without a second thought. Her heart betrayed her a third time. She caught his look, swallowed the lump forming in her throat, keeping her silent.

 

"He tried to kill me." She finally said, and the whole story came pouring out, like a flood, and she felt hot tears on her cheeks, no longer able to hold them in, her words started getting caught up on that lump and her voice broke.

"I let him live, he should be dead, but I let him live, because I can't bear the thought of him dead. I'm weak, how could I have let him live, damn him, damn the love I have for him, it makes me less of a Sith, it shames me" She felt rough fingers on her face then, calloused thumbs wiping away her tears, she heard him shushing her, like a child, she closed her eyes and let him.

 

Pierce hated Quinn, hated him with a red hot hate, like embers that keep feeding a fire. He hated him when he realized she loved him, he hated him more now for the pain he had caused. She had to stop, he couldn't kill Quinn for her, but he could help her now, he would do what he could for her.

 

Ardyth felt his arms go around her, held her tight, felt one large hand on the back on her head, stroking her hair, and she cried, great heaving cries into his chest, her hands clutched at his shirt, feeling like she might drown if she let go. Not once did he tell her he told her so, not once did he renew his offer to kill him, he just held her, while she let the emotion wash over her, cleanse her, it would make her strong, but before it could make her strong it would strip her to the core. Pierce was her life line. Eventually her sobs stopped, the hand that been in her hair moved to her chin, he tipped her face up, he kissed her forehead, she felt him breath her in, felt his other arm tighten around her waist, he kissed her cheeks, as if the tears had burned her where they had fallen. Then his lips were on hers, and her arms were around his neck, pulling him closer, needing him, needing this moment.

 

The meticulously cleaned pieces of rifle fell to the ground.

 

 

 

The sad thing is, I would have felt bad for her, if she hadn't of given up her baby for some stupid reason. But on the whole, I do feel bad for her after Quinn's betrayal. Why do I feel like my SW is the only one in the galaxy who was more annoyed at Quinn for being a douche, than really angry at him. Most of her dialogue with him was about their relationship. She even chose to make HIM feel better when he said something about failing and she was like 'don't be so hard on yourself'. *sigh*

 

Awesome work as always, hon! You make me FEEL for your characters and our companions!

 

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Evil Lids

 

Trooper - extremely minor relationship spoilers

 

 

Aric paused in his supply checking as his mate stomped past the door, swearing under her breath the whole time.

 

"What are you doing?" he asked as she stomped back with an arc welder in hand, still swearing.

 

"Stupid lid won't come off the *%#%#*& jar," she growled heading toward the mess hall, determination in every stomp.

 

"So you're going to take it off with a welder?? Damn it, woman, did it ever occur to you to ask for help?!?" he demanded, following her down the stairs.

 

"I am CO of Havoc Squad. I've lead troops into a ton of battles, killed more Sith Lords than I can keep track of, and saved the Republic so often I'm beginning to wonder if I should just let it fry. I should be able to open a damn jar!!"

 

She hit the button to light the welder and then glared at Aric when he reached around and shut it off.

 

"Ask."

 

She glared at him harder.

 

"The welder is overkill and you know it. Ask."

 

She slammed the welder down on the counter and crossed her arms. Her teeth ground against each other, "Would you open the jar for me. Please."

 

Aric picked up the jar and twisted it. The lid popped. Sana glared at the jar.

 

"Was that so hard?" he asked with a slight grin.

 

"Shut up."

 

Author's Note:

 

I'm not sure where the mess hall is in the trooper ship, but if there's one thing I know about soldiers, you make sure they're fed, so I'm sure it's there somewhere.

 

THIS! So much this. But usually it's knives and scissors. My hubby's like 'give me that before you chop fingers off!' lol Loved this.

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Title: The Dark Path, Forever

Character: Varrel Umrahiel, Sith Marauder, with a cameo by my friend’s Sith Sorcerer, Xathras.

 

Small background note, since it’s different from the way the class story is written: Varrel Umrahiel is 63-64 years old here, recruited late in life from a conquered world. On his homeworld, he’d been a fencing/kendo instructor.

 

Spoilers for Imperial Balmorra general missions, minor mention of Dromund Kaas and Korriban general missions. No class spoilers.

 

Vette is the voice of my character’s conscience, one he increasingly ignores. Yet he can’t bring himself to get rid of her, and against all reason, she stays with him.

 

 

Varrel sat on a stone outside the cave. The smell of smoke and burned flesh filled his nostrils, despite the breeze. He stared at the dark rocks making up the mountainside. The sun sank behind the hills, casting the valley in purple shadow. He heard the screams of dying men and closed his eyes. He rubbed his temples. His pureblooded companion was not yet tired of slaughter and slaked his bloodlust with Balmorra’s resistance forces. Rooting out a few remaining pockets of guerrillas from their emplacements along the valley’s road. The Empire, no doubt, would be pleased.

 

But not all the cries were Xathras’ victims. Some were his: the young, the old, the untrained hiding in the cave. He still heard them, still saw their faces behind his closed eyes. He never killed people who couldn’t fight back. Never before. There was no honor in it. Yet for all his revulsion, he still heard the high, sweet song of battle. Still felt the current of fear and death in the air. In the Force, he corrected. Part of him wanted to pick up his sabers and fight, follow the dark siren’s call, and damn the consequences.

 

“Varrel,” Vette said, speaking from behind his shoulder, “That’s…that wasn’t like you,” she said, choosing her words with care.

 

Umrahiel straightened his back and looked toward the cave entrance. He imagined he could see smoke drifting out of it. “I had no choice,” he said.

 

He felt her hand touch his shoulder, “You could have let them go,” she said.

 

Anger roiled in his mind, a caged nexu pacing before its bars. He fought to keep it out of his voice, “They were force-sensitive,” he said.

 

“They were helpless,” pleaded Vette.

 

His fury broke free. Varrel sprang to his feet and spun to face her. “The law is clear,” he snarled. Vette shrank from his glare. “That was me, not so long ago,” he said, pointing at the cave, “Would you say I am helpless?” he shouted.

 

“No, I—“

 

“I sent my own students to the Sith. My own granddaughter,” he shouted. Vette quailed. He felt a twinge of pain at her fearful expression. But rage overrode all, “I watched them fail and die on Dromund Kaas, on Korriban. Yet I should spare these? These who fight against the Empire? I should show them more mercy than I did my own flesh and blood?”

 

“I didn’t know—“ she pleaded. She stepped away from him, her hands warding him off.

 

“What you know is irrelevant,” he snapped, “it is not your place to question. You will follow my commands,” his heart was racing now. He needed to move. He needed to fight. Bloodrage hummed, like a wire stretched tight. “Find Xathras. Find his monster,” he ordered.

 

Vette backed away, “Yes. Of course,” she said. She turned and jogged off in the direction of the road.

 

Varrel put his hands to his temples, massaging them. He had the beginning of a murderous headache. He wanted to leave this world. Leave it in blood. He blinked at the thought. Vette was right. This was not like him.

 

He shook his head. No. There was nothing wrong. He was being reborn. The old woman at the Korriban Academy, the guide amongst the Revanite heretics…both of them spoke of rebirth. Dying and being reborn. “All children are born in blood,” he muttered. Blood and pain.

 

He did not see Vette stop and turn at his words. Did not realize he has even spoken aloud. When he looked up, she was already farther ahead. He made haste toward the sounds of battle.

 

Aw. Not sure who I feel bad for, your SW or Vette. Very nice.

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The sad thing is, I would have felt bad for her, if she hadn't of given up her baby for some stupid reason. But on the whole, I do feel bad for her after Quinn's betrayal. Why do I feel like my SW is the only one in the galaxy who was more annoyed at Quinn for being a douche, than really angry at him. Most of her dialogue with him was about their relationship. She even chose to make HIM feel better when he said something about failing and she was like 'don't be so hard on yourself'. *sigh*

 

Awesome work as always, hon! You make me FEEL for your characters and our companions!

 

 

Thank you Eanelinea, I love Ardyth, and I hate her, she's a product of her upbringing, and the Empire. I'm glad you hate her so much, that was the point, she's my big bad, and I'm honored that my writing managed to elicits such emotion. Now to break the writer block for my fan fiction....I have a destination, just not sure how to get there.

 

 

Tatile, the angry bits went against the forum rules. ;)

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Fantastic! I'm still giggling just imagining the look on Aric's face when he first reaches the kitchen...

 

For my second submission, I don't usually make Ruth out to be silly, but a certain link in the alliance-seeking Sith Warrior Corellian chain had "ME DUMB LIKE BRICK" written all over it. So have 700 words about that:

Ruth rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath. After days of searching…and a great deal of smashing security measures…she was finally within reach of Darth Vowrawn of the Dark Council, Darth Baras’s greatest opponent and her best chance for an alliance to cast down Baras the pretender.

 

She rounded the corner of the big hallway. The security chief, one Lord Haresh according to her sources, stood alone before a forcefield.

 

“What?” said the short sour-looking Zabrak. “The alarms didn’t sound. How did you get in here?”

 

Several possible answers ran through her head. “By taking advantage of the fact that whoever’s in charge of protecting this place is flamingly incompetent?”

 

“That would be me,” he said coldly.

 

“Hm. Maybe I started this wrong. I’d like to speak with your master.”

 

“So Baras’s most deadly apprentice has finally found us. My master has been on to you from the beginning, you know.”

 

“So…he’ll be thrilled to talk to me. Right?”

 

“He will at least be happy to survey your remains. Vowrawn can smell Baras’s ploys a thousand light years away. He knows your quarrel with Baras is a ruse, orchestrated to get you close enough to strike. So drop the act.”

 

“Not an act. An attempt at conversation. Where we talk, and preferably weapons don’t come out?”

 

A tall man was approaching the forcefield from the other side. “Haresh. Is there a problem?”

 

Haresh simply pointed. “The week’s least subtle assassin.”

 

“Hi. I’m Ruth Niral. I seek a non-bloody audience with Darth Vowrawn.”

 

“You’re Baras’s creature.”

 

“Funny story there.”

 

Haresh cut her off. “Help me dispose of her.”

 

“Would you stop that?”

 

“Surrender your weapon,” growled the tall man, “and you may enter.”

 

“Not likely. I mean that in the most respectful way possible.”

 

The tall man drew his saber.

 

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Honestly.” A carefully focused Force strike through the forcefield knocked the tall man to the ground, unconscious. Then she faced a snarling Haresh. He ran a couple of flourishes with his sabers. Ruth batted the first strike away and dove in to hit him hard with the pommel of her saber. He grunted. A second precision Force strike knocked him over.

 

Ruth moved to the control panel for the forcefield and let herself in.

 

A distinguished-looking Pureblood in well-tailored red robes was standing at the head of the long table in the conference room she found herself in. He gave her the strangest warm smile as she approached. “I applaud you,” he said. “Convey my congratulations to your master for his superior gameplay. The kill is yours. I ask only that I not suffer the indignity of decapitation.”

 

“I’ve been trying to tell your people, I don’t want anybody decapitating anybody,” she said. “Darth Baras and I had something of a tiff. The details aren’t terribly interesting, but I will stop at nothing to bring him down. I want to discuss an alliance.”

 

“You have me dead to rights. Nothing more can be gained by maintaining such a deception.”

 

“The one time in my life I’m not deceiving anybody, and you all decide it’s national paranoia week! Who do I have to kill to convince you I’m on your side?”

 

Vowrawn smiled delightedly. “If you are serious, then the game is renewed!”

 

“Now we’re getting somewhere. …We are getting somewhere, right? This isn’t another lead-in to a completely unnecessary battle?”

 

“Oh, we’re getting somewhere,” beamed Vowrawn. “Yes, I believe that with my help you can defeat Darth Baras.”

 

“Finally! If that’s settled, I should apologize about your Sith guards there. They should be fine, I haven’t accidentally killed anyone with that move in weeks. And I’m really sorry about half of your security forces outside. I spared as many as I could. And I’m sorry about the last few Imperial officers I killed, I know we were using them for the war effort but they were also Baras’s agents and, well, at least some of the Imperial army’s command structure is still intact. I’m sure it’s enough to keep the Corellian push going.”

 

Vowrawn’s smile only slipped for a moment. “Yes, I believe that with a lot of my help you can defeat Darth Baras.”

 

 

Duuuuuuude. This cracked me up hard core. This is how I felt going after Jaesa. 'But...but...I only want to TALK to her, damn it! Quinn, why does everyone think I'm trying to kill them?'

 

"You're a sith lord, dear."

 

"So? What's that got to do with the price of fried Rancor ********s....oh. *sigh* I should have listened to my mother and been a jedi."

 

Your SW being silly is AWESOME!

Edited by Eanelinea
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Another SW post.

 

Spoilers...you know, that big one. This happens that night, after my SW has had a chance to digest what just happened.

 

 

Ardyth had not been able to sleep. He was there, sleeping, soundly she noticed. Her anger flared again. She could kill him, now, in his sleep, he shifted in his sleep, making the faintest of sighing sounds, and her heart rebelled for the second time.

 

She got out of bed then. She had to be away from him, she didn't trust herself to let him sleep through the night unharmed. The ship slept, she wandered room to room, aimless, angry, heartbroken, she wanted to scream, she wanted to burst, and yes, she wanted to cry, but she dared not. She heard then a noise coming from the armory.

 

Pierce couldn't sleep, so he cleaned every last weapon they had, meticulously, the repetition calmed his mind, helped him think. Something had changed, something on that ship her and Quinn had boarded had affected her deeply, he could feel it. He knew something didn't seem right about that mission, he was black ops, he knew the ins and out of warfare, and his gut told him something had gone wrong. He didn't trust Quinn, didn't trust his intel, and had pulled her aside to tell her as much, but to her, Quinn could do no wrong.

 

"He's been with me a long time Pierce, I trust him" she had said. Ardyth remembered those words, they rang in her head. Pierce had known, had felt something about Quinn, and she had been so blinded by love that she had dismissed his concerns, seeing only two strong willed men at odds with each other. She wasn't surprised to see the lieutenant furiously scrubbing the inside of the barrel of a rifle, the rest of the disassembled weapon on the workbench waiting for his attention. His big hands handled the the instrument quite nimbly, not clumsy, but sure. He stopped what he was doing and carefully placed the barrel beside the rest of the pieces and looked up at her.

 

"What happened?" he asked, his rough voice, quiet, steady. His grey eyes looking at her, through her, he would smell a lie immediately.

 

She couldn't form words, Pierce had a way of disarming her with a look, with a word, she had flirted with him, but had kept her distance. Quinn called him a mindless brute, but Quinn was wrong, Pierce had a sharp mind, too sharp sometimes. Ardyth vowed to heed his council more often, to trust his instincts.

 

"My Lord?" Pierce stood up, he tried to catch her eyes again, those bright yellow eyes of hers, but she looked away, unable to meet his. Something had gone wrong then, he had been right, and she knew, but something held her back. Quinn.

 

"What did he do?" his voice growled now, he wasn't stupid, Ardyth looked up, he was standing very close, she could smell his scent, metal and sweat. She felt his energy, he was wound like a Manka cat, ready to pounce at a moments notice. He could do it, he would kill him without a second thought. Her heart betrayed her a third time. She caught his look, swallowed the lump forming in her throat, keeping her silent.

 

"He tried to kill me." She finally said, and the whole story came pouring out, like a flood, and she felt hot tears on her cheeks, no longer able to hold them in, her words started getting caught up on that lump and her voice broke.

"I let him live, he should be dead, but I let him live, because I can't bear the thought of him dead. I'm weak, how could I have let him live, damn him, damn the love I have for him, it makes me less of a Sith, it shames me" She felt rough fingers on her face then, calloused thumbs wiping away her tears, she heard him shushing her, like a child, she closed her eyes and let him.

 

Pierce hated Quinn, hated him with a red hot hate, like embers that keep feeding a fire. He hated him when he realized she loved him, he hated him more now for the pain he had caused. She had to stop, he couldn't kill Quinn for her, but he could help her now, he would do what he could for her.

 

Ardyth felt his arms go around her, held her tight, felt one large hand on the back on her head, stroking her hair, and she cried, great heaving cries into his chest, her hands clutched at his shirt, feeling like she might drown if she let go. Not once did he tell her he told her so, not once did he renew his offer to kill him, he just held her, while she let the emotion wash over her, cleanse her, it would make her strong, but before it could make her strong it would strip her to the core. Pierce was her life line. Eventually her sobs stopped, the hand that been in her hair moved to her chin, he tipped her face up, he kissed her forehead, she felt him breath her in, felt his other arm tighten around her waist, he kissed her cheeks, as if the tears had burned her where they had fallen. Then his lips were on hers, and her arms were around his neck, pulling him closer, needing him, needing this moment.

 

The meticulously cleaned pieces of rifle fell to the ground.

 

 

I have completely given up all attempts at not having the sw story spoiled and I'm glad I have cause whew! (I'm still maintaining most of my IA ignorance though!) I'm half tempted to leave leveling a sw till the hypothetical someday when certain Lieutenants are made romanceable because, um yeah, lol.

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Yet another SW post I think that story may have gotten to a lot of people :)

 

Spoiler heavy for SW and I guess kinda JK'ish. It's long and I have to remind myself not to compare with other people because then I'll be sad all the time.

 

SW: Ninka

 

 

 

Ninka hated Imperial rations, flavorless colorless food from a flavorless colorless people. It was all grays, blacks, browns and processed protein emulsions. A homogenous sludge pushed into a cold metal press, shaped into whatever stored most efficiently. Usually squares. She held the brown protein square to the light with detached fascination as the gray square across from her continued his one-sided conversation.

 

“My Lord?” Quinn paused when she did not answer him.

 

“Sorry, I must be tired, what were you saying?” Ninka peered over her crumbling ration biscuit at the Captain. It was remarkable how he always looked the same. Precise uniforms, neat hair, fastidiously clean hands and nails; it was ironic that a man who was so well groomed was never clean-shaven. He shaved every day, she had seen it, but it seemed within moments he had the same shadow. It amused her to think that without the constant grooming his face would explode with a full beard.

 

“My Lord?” Quinn asked again, apparently he had repeated his question and she missed it. “I don’t mean to distract you from whatever has your attention. I only wanted to inform you that when you have a moment, I and the rest of the crew would like to debrief you now that we have completed our mission.”

 

“Everyone wants to talk to me?” she repeated shoving her ration plate away.

 

“Correct, my lord.” Quinn stood, bowed, and carried both of their plates away. He would return to duty and stay on the bridge until his shift was over. Vette, Jaesa, and Broonmark finished their meals and wandered off chattering about the best way to kill a Hutt.

 

Ninka turned to see Pierce staring at her. He had been doing that since Correlia, she did not want to talk to him, not yet. She got up and walked out before he could say anything. She followed the sound of Vette’s voice to the ship data relay.

 

“How’s it going, my lord?” Vette called from her duty console. As usual, there was a holo-romance running on the terminal instead of the diagnostic busywork Quinn usually assigned the Twilek.

 

“You wanted to talk?”

 

“Did you see this one? ‘The Smuggler and the Prince of the Dead Planet.’ It’s pretty good even though it has a lot of Jedi in it.” She raised an eyebrow at the scantily clad man embracing a woman wearing a duster and two blasters. Vette blushed, “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I’m here for the long term. Even though you gave me my freedom, I’m not going anywhere. Through crazy apprentices trying to kill you, or whatever, I’ll be here.” Vette said with a slight smile, waiting for the inevitable sarcastic remark.

 

“It’s good to have you by my side, Vette. It always has been.” She replied turning to leave.

 

Vette blinked with surprise, “Uh, you too oh sweetest of Sith Lords. You too.” She called after the retreating form.

 

“One down,” Ninka muttered under her breath. “Broonmark, what can I do for you?” Ninka spent the next several minutes staring at the chuffing and snorting Talz she had taken aboard the ship. She barely understood him but it hardly mattered, he only spoke of killing, strength, the Sith Clan and cleansing. If she strung together any statement about killing, he would respond positively.

 

“Stick with me, and we will strike down hundreds.” She responded automatically when the Talz stopped chuffing.

 

“I will serve you always.” He squeaked enthusiastically.

 

Jaesa’s debriefing went by in a blur. Something about power and legacy, she had replied something appropriately approving and bloodthirsty. Ninka sighed as she slowly made her way to the bridge. If only all conversations were so easy. She knew Quinn would have some complicated matter to talk about and she would have to pay attention or she would unintentionally approve some kind of procedure that would annoy the entire crew.

 

“My Lord,” Quinn saluted as she stepped entered the bridge.

 

“Captain,” she replied taking a seat at a console and began reading her correspondence. Messages from the Hand about the Emperor, interesting. Darth Decimus and Darth Charnus commending her on the obvious choice to kill a cowardly, two faced, dog rather than make it Prime Minister, right.

 

“My Lord?” Quinn asked tentatively. He had obviously been waiting to speak for a while. Ninka suppressed a sigh and faced the Captain.

 

“Speak freely, Captain.”

 

“My lord, standard systems checks are all clear. The ship and crew are operating at peak efficiency.”

 

Ninka let out a breath with relief this would be easy. “Glad to know. Dismissed.” She replied turning back to her correspondence.

 

“How long will you persist in this? Shall I move forward as though there’s nothing between us?”

 

Ninka stared at him in surprise. His face usually set in an expressionless mask, displayed confusion, annoyance, and a touch of sadness. I’m going to regret saying this, but I’m too tired to placate you. “I dismissed you, didn’t I?” she asked quietly.

 

“So you did, my lord.” He replied, resuming his mask and composure.

 

She checked her remaining messages and fired off replies though no one ever answered them. She approached the armory slowly wondering what kind of awkward conversation she was going to have now. It was too bad Pierce was not as dumb as Quinn thought. She paused outside the door then continued to the practice rooms. I’m the lord here. I’ll speak when I decide, not before.

 

Ninka programmed the practice droid to the highest difficulty and started her workout. She had not practiced for more than three minutes when she heard the door seal and lock. A glance over her shoulder showed it was Pierce. He walked over to the droid console and shut it down. I guess I don’t get to decide.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Pierce barked.

 

“What do you mean?” she replied meeting his gaze.

 

“You’re not yourself. I thought it was about that worthless Quinn but it’s more than that.” He accused his low voice more harsh than usual.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about and you forget your place, Lieutenant.” She turned away and began executing a complicated strike pattern against the deactivated droid.

 

"See, right there. Before times you wouldn’t have gone to protocol, you would have flirted or made a joke. That droid has got more emotion than you.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. His pose was relaxed but Ninka was not fooled. He was armed and armored, he was always armed and armored, and he was tensed for a fight.

 

“Are you going to attack me Lieutenant?” Her back still faced him though her body tensed in preparation. “I guarantee you will not receive the same leniency as Quinn.” She felt his anger flare at the mere mention of the Captain’s name. A small thrill went down her spine.

 

“We’ll see.” Then he leaped at her.

 

She had expected an attack but not an all-out assault. She parried his first few shots with her light saber and spun away. “Are you crazy? What’s wrong with you?” she yelped more in shock than anything else.

 

“Why didn’t you kill him?” He demanded, ignoring her question. “He’s no use to you, Baras would never trust him with information again. You didn’t even make him suffer for what he did you just walked away.” He fired a flare from across the room. Ordinarily used to distract a large group of enemies, focused on one person it coursed up and down her body leaving a faint taste of metal in her mouth. She clenched her teeth and stalked toward him slowly.

 

“Maybe it’s because I love him?” She spat, deflecting the shots from his constant barrage, she only needed to get within a few feet.

 

He flinched at her words but his lips curled into a snarl of contempt. “Did you love that Jedi in Belsavis too? Or Baras’ sister? They’re both alive and kicking, the Sith I knew wouldn’t allow that.”

 

She reached for her power and screamed. The wave of force she channeled caught him directly in the face. Most men would have been blinded or dazed. Pierce only looked her in the eyes and set her on fire. She screamed again staggering backwards. Her eyes glowed a murderous red, and an invisible hand threw Pierce across the room. Not giving him a chance to get up she leaped at him driving her fist into his chest armor breaking through his shielding. Another gesture and the invisible hand of the force lifted the large man off his feet, a vise-like grip slowly crushing his throat. Feeling good for the first time in days her lips twisted into something that was not quite a smile.

 

“So you would betray me too? Why? To make me angry? To make me feel pain?” Ninka looked up, enjoying the various shades of red a human face could produce.

 

He struggled against her grasp gritting his teeth and choked out. “To see if you can.”

 

Her eyes went wide and she released him. She thought about the past months. Numb, she felt nothing. She thought it was Quinn but it had started before that. She had slowly lost her appetite; food had no taste at all. She no longer wore her favorite clothes; the bright reds she favored lost their appeal. Colors, sounds, smells, emotions, they were all muted and dull. She had to admit she spared Quinn simply because she did not care. She had been so caught up trying to outwit and defeat Baras, she had not noticed. No one had, except the man lying at her feet.

 

“Pierce?” She knelt beside him; he raised his head, his jaw clenched with pain and determination. She met his eyes and nodded. He sighed with relief, his rifle slipping from his fingers, as the pain of cracked ribs shuddered through him. She shuddered too, as his pain fed her power. Pain. She had felt the pain of her enemies as she defeated them. It has been the pain and anger of the fallen that had sustained her more than food. Suprise flashed through his eyes, then understanding. He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his face. He pressed her hand to his cheek ignoring the fresh bruises, burns, and cuts. “Whatever you need, my lord.”

 

She managed to get Pierce into a kolto tank. He would recover, but slowly. He broke a dial on the tank so that they could not give him painkillers. Not that Quinn wanted to give him painkillers after he treated her burns. Back in her room, she only had to reach toward the medical bay to feel his tortured body being knit back together. It almost had a taste, thick and sweet, and for the first time in weeks since defeating Baras she had the energy to think. She turned to her new problem.

 

What's happening to me? Did Baras do this? She should be terrified, a Sith was nothing without passion and emotions, but even that, nothing. Closing her eyes she reached out to the force. Then she heard it, a whisper in the depths of her mind. A monotone voice she had heard, what seemed a lifetime ago, on Voss. Wrath. it whispered and laughed. Its laugh held neither mirth nor hatred and it unlocked a flood of images of what she was and what she would become. Now she understood, Baras could never have defeated her, the Emperor had granted her immortality and this was her price. She would be the weapon in the Emperor’s hand, but only that. A weapon fed only by pain.

 

 

 

Edited by kabeone
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Yet another SW post I think that story may have gotten to a lot of people :)

 

Spoiler heavy for SW and I guess kinda JK'ish. It's long and I have to remind myself not to compare with other people because then I'll be sad all the time.

 

SW: Ninka

 

 

 

Ninka hated Imperial rations, flavorless colorless food from a flavorless colorless people. It was all grays, blacks, browns and processed protein emulsions. A homogenous sludge pushed into a cold metal press, shaped into whatever stored most efficiently. Usually squares. She held the brown protein square to the light with detached fascination as the gray square across from her continued his one-sided conversation.

 

“My Lord?” Quinn paused when she did not answer him.

 

“Sorry, I must be tired, what were you saying?” Ninka peered over her crumbling ration biscuit at the Captain. It was remarkable how he always looked the same. Precise uniforms, neat hair, fastidiously clean hands and nails; it was ironic that a man who was so well groomed was never clean-shaven. He shaved every day, she had seen it, but it seemed within moments he had the same shadow. It amused her to think that without the constant grooming his face would explode with a full beard.

 

“My Lord?” Quinn asked again, apparently he had repeated his question and she missed it. “I don’t mean to distract you from whatever has your attention. I only wanted to inform you that when you have a moment, I and the rest of the crew would like to debrief you now that we have completed our mission.”

 

“Everyone wants to talk to me?” she repeated shoving her ration plate away.

 

“Correct, my lord.” Quinn stood, bowed, and carried both of their plates away. He would return to duty and stay on the bridge until his shift was over. Vette, Jaesa, and Broonmark finished their meals and wandered off chattering about the best way to kill a Hutt.

 

Ninka turned to see Pierce staring at her. He had been doing that since Correlia, she did not want to talk to him, not yet. She got up and walked out before he could say anything. She followed the sound of Vette’s voice to the ship data relay.

 

“How’s it going, my lord?” Vette called from her duty console. As usual, there was a holo-romance running on the terminal instead of the diagnostic busywork Quinn usually assigned the Twilek.

 

“You wanted to talk?”

 

“Did you see this one? ‘The Smuggler and the Prince of the Dead Planet.’ It’s pretty good even though it has a lot of Jedi in it.” She raised an eyebrow at the scantily clad man embracing a woman wearing a duster and two blasters. Vette blushed, “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I’m here for the long term. Even though you gave me my freedom, I’m not going anywhere. Through crazy apprentices trying to kill you, or whatever, I’ll be here.” Vette said with a slight smile, waiting for the inevitable sarcastic remark.

 

“It’s good to have you by my side, Vette. It always has been.” She replied turning to leave.

 

Vette blinked with surprise, “Uh, you too oh sweetest of Sith Lords. You too.” She called after the retreating form.

 

“One down,” Ninka muttered under her breath. “Broonmark, what can I do for you?” Ninka spent the next several minutes staring at the chuffing and snorting Talz she had taken aboard the ship. She barely understood him but it hardly mattered, he only spoke of killing, strength, the Sith Clan and cleansing. If she strung together any statement about killing, he would respond positively.

 

“Stick with me, and we will strike down hundreds.” She responded automatically when the Talz stopped chuffing.

 

“I will serve you always.” He squeaked enthusiastically.

 

Jaesa’s debriefing went by in a blur. Something about power and legacy, she had replied something appropriately approving and bloodthirsty. Ninka sighed as she slowly made her way to the bridge. If only all conversations were so easy. She knew Quinn would have some complicated matter to talk about and she would have to pay attention or she would unintentionally approve some kind of procedure that would annoy the entire crew.

 

“My Lord,” Quinn saluted as she stepped entered the bridge.

 

“Captain,” she replied taking a seat at a console and began reading her correspondence. Messages from the Hand about the Emperor, interesting. Darth Decimus and Darth Charnus commending her on the obvious choice to kill a cowardly, two faced, dog rather than make it Prime Minister, right.

 

“My Lord?” Quinn asked tentatively. He had obviously been waiting to speak for a while. Ninka suppressed a sigh and faced the Captain.

 

“Speak freely, Captain.”

 

“My lord, standard systems checks are all clear. The ship and crew are operating at peak efficiency.”

 

Ninka let out a breath with relief this would be easy. “Glad to know. Dismissed.” She replied turning back to her correspondence.

 

“How long will you persist in this? Shall I move forward as though there’s nothing between us?”

 

Ninka stared at him in surprise. His face usually set in an expressionless mask, displayed confusion, annoyance, and a touch of sadness. I’m going to regret saying this, but I’m too tired to placate you. “I dismissed you, didn’t I?” she asked quietly.

 

“So you did, my lord.” He replied, resuming his mask and composure.

 

She checked her remaining messages and fired off replies though no one ever answered them. She approached the armory slowly wondering what kind of awkward conversation she was going to have now. It was too bad Pierce was not as dumb as Quinn thought. She paused outside the door then continued to the practice rooms. I’m the lord here. I’ll speak when I decide, not before.

 

Ninka programmed the practice droid to the highest difficulty and started her workout. She had not practiced for more than three minutes when she heard the door seal and lock. A glance over her shoulder showed it was Pierce. He walked over to the droid console and shut it down. I guess I don’t get to decide.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Pierce barked.

 

“What do you mean?” she replied meeting his gaze.

 

“You’re not yourself. I thought it was about that worthless Quinn but it’s more than that.” He accused his low voice more harsh than usual.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about and you forget your place, Lieutenant.” She turned away and began executing a complicated strike pattern against the deactivated droid.

 

"See, right there. Before times you wouldn’t have gone to protocol, you would have flirted or made a joke. That droid has got more emotion than you.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. His pose was relaxed but Ninka was not fooled. He was armed and armored, he was always armed and armored, and he was tensed for a fight.

 

“Are you going to attack me Lieutenant?” Her back still faced him though her body tensed in preparation. “I guarantee you will not receive the same leniency as Quinn.” She felt his anger flare at the mere mention of the Captain’s name. A small thrill went down her spine.

 

“We’ll see.” Then he leaped at her.

 

She had expected an attack but not an all-out assault. She parried his first few shots with her light saber and spun away. “Are you crazy? What’s wrong with you?” she yelped more in shock than anything else.

 

“Why didn’t you kill him?” He demanded, ignoring her question. “He’s no use to you, Baras would never trust him with information again. You didn’t even make him suffer for what he did you just walked away.” He fired a flare from across the room. Ordinarily used to distract a large group of enemies, focused on one person it coursed up and down her body leaving a faint taste of metal in her mouth. She clenched her teeth and stalked toward him slowly.

 

“Maybe it’s because I love him?” She spat, deflecting the shots from his constant barrage, she only needed to get within a few feet.

 

He flinched at her words but his lips curled into a snarl of contempt. “Did you love that Jedi in Belsavis too? Or Baras’ sister? They’re both alive and kicking, the Sith I knew wouldn’t allow that.”

 

She reached for her power and screamed. The wave of force she channeled caught him directly in the face. Most men would have been blinded or dazed. Pierce only looked her in the eyes and set her on fire. She screamed again staggering backwards. Her eyes glowed a murderous red, and an invisible hand threw Pierce across the room. Not giving him a chance to get up she leaped at him driving her fist into his chest armor breaking through his shielding. Another gesture and the invisible hand of the force lifted the large man off his feet, a vise-like grip slowly crushing his throat. Feeling good for the first time in days her lips twisted into something that was not quite a smile.

 

“So you would betray me too? Why? To make me angry? To make me feel pain?” Ninka looked up, enjoying the various shades of red a human face could produce.

 

He struggled against her grasp gritting his teeth and choked out. “To see if you can.”

 

Her eyes went wide and she released him. She thought about the past months. Numb, she felt nothing. She thought it was Quinn but it had started before that. She had slowly lost her appetite; food had no taste at all. She no longer wore her favorite clothes; the bright reds she favored lost their appeal. Colors, sounds, smells, emotions, they were all muted and dull. She had to admit she spared Quinn simply because she did not care. She had been so caught up trying to outwit and defeat Baras, she had not noticed. No one had, except the man lying at her feet.

 

“Pierce?” She knelt beside him; he raised his head, his jaw clenched with pain and determination. She met his eyes and nodded. He sighed with relief, his rifle slipping from his fingers, as the pain of cracked ribs shuddered through him. She shuddered too, as his pain fed her power. Pain. She had felt the pain of her enemies as she defeated them. It has been the pain and anger of the fallen that had sustained her more than food. Suprise flashed through his eyes, then understanding. He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his face. He pressed her hand to his cheek ignoring the fresh bruises, burns, and cuts. “Whatever you need, my lord.”

 

She managed to get Pierce into a kolto tank. He would recover, but slowly. He broke a dial on the tank so that they could not give him painkillers. Not that Quinn wanted to give him painkillers after he treated her burns. Back in her room, she only had to reach toward the medical bay to feel his tortured body being knit back together. It almost had a taste, thick and sweet, and for the first time in weeks since defeating Baras she had the energy to think. She turned to her new problem.

 

What's happening to me? Did Baras do this? She should be terrified, a Sith was nothing without passion and emotions, but even that, nothing. Closing her eyes she reached out to the force. Then she heard it, a whisper in the depths of her mind. A monotone voice she had heard, what seemed a lifetime ago, on Voss. Wrath. it whispered and laughed. Its laugh held neither mirth nor hatred and it unlocked a flood of images of what she was and what she would become. Now she understood, Baras could never have defeated her, the Emperor had granted her immortality and this was her price. She would be the weapon in the Emperor’s hand, but only that. A weapon fed only by pain.

 

 

 

Is your SW LS or DS? Hard to tell sometimes, though sounds like Jaesa is DS.

 

This was interesting. You all make it very hard not to want to cuddle Quinn to my bosom. All the stuff he goes through just because he had a brain fart and was Baras' butt monkey.

 

Nice job, really enjoyed this.

Edited by Eanelinea
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Is your SW LS or DS? Hard to tell sometimes, though sounds like Jaesa is DS.

 

This was interesting. You all make it very hard not to want to cuddle Quinn to my bosom. All the stuff he goes through just because he had a brain fart and was Baras' butt monkey.

 

Nice job, really enjoyed this.

 

But don't you see that leaves more Quinns for you! :)

I'm embarrassed to say I've played through more than one SW and this one I attempted to reconcile what happened with some kind of reason so

 

 

She was the perfect DS Sith until chapter 3. Then after becoming the Wath and slowly sapped of emotion she is no longer guided by passion. Without passion she started to make decisions based on reason, sometimes based on whim. Around her crew she goes through the motions of being DS but her heart is no longer in it. She even tells the Emperor's voice on Voss that maybe the galaxy would be better off without him.

 

This is why she didn't kill Quinn, she didn't forgive him either she just shrugged and said whatever get back to work. It wasn't until after killing Baras that she realized she didn't feel anything for Quinn and just wanted him to go away. (The dismissal conversation).

 

Now that she knows she feeds off anguish and pain I'm sure she'll be even more DS in upcoming content :D

 

 

 

 

 

Love. This. Line. This is an Act 3 emotional arc I would love to see.

 

Thanks for reading. I'll take any emotional arcs with Pierce.

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Draconia, Sith Warrior. Some spoilers for the fem!Warrior/Quinn romance, the INCIDENT, and just things that might be spoilery, but it's been so long, I could just be remembering things differently.

 

After the events of the event that had a lot of us women sob with bitterness. My take on it in a kind of, sort of humourous fashion. We need some humor, damn it! Y'all are depressing me! =D

 

 

 

Draconia woke up to see Quinn sleeping in bed with her. She'd forgiven the git for betraying her on the transponder station. She had almost decided not to go with Vette and just go alone to meet up with Quinn. Many times after a long mission planet side or on some crusty out of the way space station, they'd find a secluded corner where no one could waltz by to find them making out like randy teenagers under the bleachers.

 

So the day before, sensing something ominous was about to transpire, but not sure what exactly, she'd asked Vette to come along with her. Jaesa had wanted to come with her as well, but the girl really didn't need to go on missions to kill everything in sight. Draconia had seen her in action on the Black Talon. It must have been a PMS day because Jaesa had spewed out words about enjoying their suffering and the scent of death. Draconia found this odd and slightly scary since she had made sure Jaesa's parents were living the good life of wine, sweet digs and all the Nerf burgers they could eat on Dromund Kaas. Not to mention that her old Master was sobbing and pleading his deranged little heart out to the Order on Tython. Yes, Draconia knew exactly where Tython was floating in space...helped to have a sister in Havoc squad.

 

They'd walked into the transponder vessel, Draconia hoping for some post battle nookie from her husband, giving the excuse to Vette to go run specs or something on the ship. When Quinn had revealed his dastardly plan to kill HER, Draconia, Queen of the Sith Academy Dance and all around cool gal.

 

"Quinn," she'd said, "You're looking mighty fine in those cheap Korriban medium armor clothes I bought you right before we arrived. They make you look like a farm hand...or a beggar." She'd sighed dreamily, getting an elbow in the ribs from Vette. "Ow! Don't poke so hard, woman, you have pointy elbows."

 

Quinn had chosen to ignore his eccentric and really quite odd wife to go on about how Baras was the head dude in charge and to hold on to her knickers as she was about to get squished. Draconia had asked him if their relationship had meant anything to him, and he sounded all sad and upset about having to kill his wife, especially since she had no gold to dig.

 

"I knew he was a loser," Vette had said, rolling her eyes and pointing at Quinn. "All he needs is to walk around with his finger in the shape of an L on his forehead and he'd be set."

 

"Vette, shut up, you're not helping any," she paused. "Why the hell did I bring you anyway?"

 

"Because you consider me your little sister and I shoot two blasters pretty damn well?"

 

"Ah yes." She turned back to Quinn to see him, facepalming at the two women. "Quinn, my love, my reason for living, my baby's daddy, er, nevermind, you don't know about that yet. Um, yeah. Why would you do what Baras says and not me? Can he do that trick with his tongue that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll up in the back of your head, yoddeling the Imerpial March before hitting it from the back?"

 

Both Vette and Quinn had made little gagging faces picturing Darth Baras doing said tongue trick, before Quinn's perpetually "I've got a bad case of constipation" look came back to his face. "My lord, enough talk, prepare to be defeated by my brilliance, cunning, and good looks!"

 

Draconia had barely broken a sweat decimating the two droids that attacked her while Vette was busy shooting Quinn in the arse with her double barreled blasters, while yelling out, "take that you, you, meanie!"

 

She almost didn't want to intrude, watching in amusement as her two friends shot at each other, called each other childish names and danced out of the way of blaster bolts. She finished the fight with one well aimed knock down, tossing his posh arse across the room before running over and yelling, "I'm sorry, sweetie!"

 

Quinn growled that his calculations sucked with Vette nodding in agreement the whole while, but the two love birds ignored her. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself, dearest?"

 

"You're not going to force choke me like a ***** before tossing me a few dozen times against the wall and then calling in Pierce to kick me in the bollocks?"

 

"Er, no," Draconia answered, sharing a look with Vette. "I wasn't planning on it...maybe for our ten year anniversary if you REALLY want to. But no. I forgive you and you can make it up to me in our quarters. You know I like it when you're forceful."

 

"Okay, eew, didn't need to know that much information," Vette said, shivering in disgust.

 

"Oh, please. Who was it that high fived me when she heard the noises coming from my quarters BEFORE Quinn and I got married?"

 

They talked, they chatted, they made for the ship. Vette all but ran back after Draconia told Quinn she wasn't going to tell anyone what happened in the transponder vessel. Why? Quinn would forever be on the receiving end of wedgies from Pierce if she did.

 

***

 

So here she was, sitting in the lounge, eating out of a gallon of Honey Vanilla icecream, her tears mixing in with the chewy granola. "Vette!" Draconia yelled, seeing the blue Twi'lek girl walking towards the mess hall in search of a late night snack, pink pajamas covering her.

 

"Draconia? Are you eating that entire gallon of icecream by yourself? Girl, do you know where that will end up? Your butt will go past bootilicious into 'come over here so I can set my drink down' proportions."

 

"I don't care!" Draconia sobbed around a mouthful of icecream. "I'm pregnant, hormonal, my husband tried to kill me...though that led to HOT make up sex and I still have to stop Darth Bobo, I mean, Baras from taking over and telling everyone on the dark council that the Emperor is his sugar daddy!"

 

Vette sighed and turned to sit beside her friend. "Well, Quinn DID do a **** poor job at trying to kill us. I mean, you take him EVERYWHERE with you. Surely he's seen you in action."

 

"Yeah, but it's the point of it. He should have just told Baras that he tried and failed. We're Sith, not mind readers. Even Jaesa with her weird *** powers can't read minds." She sighed and placed the melting container of icecream on the coffeetable. "I can always count on you, Vette," Draconia said, resting her bright red haired head on Vette's shoulder. "No one else would have had my back like you did."

 

"Well, you did take my collar off when I asked, helped my sister from remaining a prostitute and even offered to pay for momma's funeral. It's the least I could do," she replied, patting Draconia's thigh.

 

The two women looked up at the noise coming from Draconia's quarters to see Quinn, wearing only a pair of sleep pants, hair tossled and bare chested, look sleepily at the two. "My lord?"

 

"You know," Vette whispered so only Draconia could hear. "He may be a brilliant dunce, but he IS pretty damn hot. I can see why you still want him after everything."

 

"Yes, and don't forget I'm having his kid too." Draconia stood up. "Thanks, Vette. I feel better now." She headed back to her quarters, grabbing Quinn's hand to pull him inside.

 

Vette sighed to herself. "That's what friends do." She got up, grabbed the melted icecream and headed to the mess hall.

 

 

 

Author's note:

 

 

 

Despite the crack/silliness of this, besides Quinn being a damn good healer, Vette had Draconia's back for a long while. Plus, I just needed to write the crack/silliness.

 

Edited by Eanelinea
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But don't you see that leaves more Quinns for you! :)

 

 

I will gladly take everyone's Quinns, Vectors, Torians, and any other male companion they don't want. But not Skadge, he's a douche. I love Doc even though some women don't like his womanizing ways. I swear, with him, I feel like that girl cat on Tom and Jerry that did that high pitched giggle whenever Tom looked at her.

 

*sigh*

 

 

I guess this is what happens when your Sith Warrior is LS V, loves Quinn 100%, has a kid with him (thanks to Legacy) and forgave him, told him to meet her in her quarters for nookie and didn't tell anyone what happened.

 

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Draconia, Sith Warrior. Some spoilers for the fem!Warrior/Quinn romance, the INCIDENT, and just things that might be spoilery, but it's been so long, I could just be remembering things differently.

 

After the events of the event that had a lot of us women sob with bitterness. My take on it in a kind of, sort of humourous fashion. We need some humor, damn it! Y'all are depressing me! =D

 

 

 

Draconia woke up to see Quinn sleeping in bed with her. She'd forgiven the git for betraying her on the transponder station. She had almost decided not to go with Vette and just go alone to meet up with Quinn. Many times after a long mission planet side or on some crusty out of the way space station, they'd find a secluded corner where no one could waltz by to find them making out like randy teenagers under the bleachers.

 

So the day before, sensing something ominous was about to transpire, but not sure what exactly, she'd asked Vette to come along with her. Jaesa had wanted to come with her as well, but the girl really didn't need to go on missions to kill everything in sight. Draconia had seen her in action on the Black Talon. It must have been a PMS day because Jaesa had spewed out words about enjoying their suffering and the scent of death. Draconia found this odd and slightly scary since she had made sure Jaesa's parents were living the good life of wine, sweet digs and all the Nerf burgers they could eat on Dromund Kaas. Not to mention that her old Master was sobbing and pleading his deranged little heart out to the Order on Tython. Yes, Draconia knew exactly where Tython was floating in space...helped to have a sister in Havoc squad.

 

They'd walked into the transponder vessel, Draconia hoping for some post battle nookie from her husband, giving the excuse to Vette to go run specs or something on the ship. When Quinn had revealed his dastardly plan to kill HER, Draconia, Queen of the Sith Academy Dance and all around cool gal.

 

"Quinn," she'd said, "You're looking mighty fine in those cheap Korriban medium armor clothes I bought you right before we arrived. They make you look like a farm hand...or a beggar." She'd sighed dreamily, getting an elbow in the ribs from Vette. "Ow! Don't poke so hard, woman, you have pointy elbows."

 

Quinn had chosen to ignore his eccentric and really quite odd wife to go on about how Baras was the head dude in charge and to hold on to her knickers as she was about to get squished. Draconia had asked him if their relationship had meant anything to him, and he sounded all sad and upset about having to kill his wife, especially since she had no gold to dig.

 

"I knew he was a loser," Vette had said, rolling her eyes and pointing at Quinn. "All he needs is to walk around with his finger in the shape of an L on his forehead and he'd be set."

 

"Vette, shut up, you're not helping any," she paused. "Why the hell did I bring you anyway?"

 

"Because you consider me your little sister and I shoot two blasters pretty damn well?"

 

"Ah yes." She turned back to Quinn to see him, facepalming at the two women. "Quinn, my love, my reason for living, my baby's daddy, er, nevermind, you don't know about that yet. Um, yeah. Why would you do what Baras says and not me? Can he do that trick with his tongue that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll up in the back of your head, yoddeling the Imerpial March before hitting it from the back?"

 

Both Vette and Quinn had made little gagging faces picturing Darth Baras doing said tongue trick, before Quinn's perpetually "I've got a bad case of constipation" look came back to his face. "My lord, enough talk, prepare to be defeated by my brilliance, cunning, and good looks!"

 

Draconia had barely broken a sweat decimating the two droids that attacked her while Vette was busy shooting Quinn in the arse with her double barreled blasters, while yelling out, "take that you, you, meanie!"

 

She almost didn't want to intrude, watching in amusement as her two friends shot at each other, called each other childish names and danced out of the way of blaster bolts. She finished the fight with one well aimed knock down, tossing his posh arse across the room before running over and yelling, "I'm sorry, sweetie!"

 

Quinn growled that his calculations sucked with Vette nodding in agreement the whole while, but the two love birds ignored her. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself, dearest?"

 

"You're not going to force choke me like a ***** before tossing me a few dozen times against the wall and then calling in Pierce to kick me in the bollocks?"

 

"Er, no," Draconia answered, sharing a look with Vette. "I wasn't planning on it...maybe for our ten year anniversary if you REALLY want to. But no. I forgive you and you can make it up to me in our quarters. You know I like it when you're forceful."

 

"Okay, eew, didn't need to know that much information," Vette said, shivering in disgust.

 

"Oh, please. Who was it that high fived me when she heard the noises coming from my quarters BEFORE Quinn and I got married?"

 

They talked, they chatted, they made for the ship. Vette all but ran back after Draconia told Quinn she wasn't going to tell anyone what happened in the transponder vessel. Why? Quinn would forever be on the receiving end of wedgies from Pierce if she did.

 

***

 

So here she was, sitting in the lounge, eating out of a gallon of Honey Vanilla icecream, her tears mixing in with the chewy granola. "Vette!" Draconia yelled, seeing the blue Twi'lek girl walking towards the mess hall in search of a late night snack, pink pajamas covering her.

 

"Draconia? Are you eating that entire gallon of icecream by yourself? Girl, do you know where that will end up? Your butt will go past bootilicious into 'come over here so I can set my drink down' proportions."

 

"I don't care!" Draconia sobbed around a mouthful of icecream. "I'm pregnant, hormonal, my husband tried to kill me...though that led to HOT make up sex and I still have to stop Darth Bobo, I mean, Baras from taking over and telling everyone on the dark council that the Emperor is his sugar daddy!"

 

Vette sighed and turned to sit beside her friend. "Well, Quinn DID do a **** poor job at trying to kill us. I mean, you take him EVERYWHERE with you. Surely he's seen you in action."

 

"Yeah, but it's the point of it. He should have just told Baras that he tried and failed. We're Sith, not mind readers. Even Jaesa with her weird *** powers can't read minds." She sighed and placed the melting container of icecream on the coffeetable. "I can always count on you, Vette," Draconia said, resting her bright red haired head on Vette's shoulder. "No one else would have had my back like you did."

 

"Well, you did take my collar off when I asked, helped my sister from remaining a prostitute and even offered to pay for momma's funeral. It's the least I could do," she replied, patting Draconia's thigh.

 

The two women looked up at the noise coming from Draconia's quarters to see Quinn, wearing only a pair of sleep pants, hair tossled and bare chested, look sleepily at the two. "My lord?"

 

"You know," Vette whispered so only Draconia could hear. "He may be a brilliant dunce, but he IS pretty damn hot. I can see why you still want him after everything."

 

"Yes, and don't forget I'm having his kid too." Draconia stood up. "Thanks, Vette. I feel better now." She headed back to her quarters, grabbing Quinn's hand to pull him inside.

 

Vette sighed to herself. "That's what friends do." She got up, grabbed the melted icecream and headed to the mess hall.

 

 

 

Author's note:

 

 

 

Despite the crack/silliness of this, besides Quinn being a damn good healer, Vette had Draconia's back for a long while. Plus, I just needed to write the crack/silliness.

 

Love this. Someday I'll write something happy.

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Love this. Someday I'll write something happy.

 

I had to. I feel like I'm in the minority for going 'oh that Quinn, being a bad boy. Now go follow your sexy wife back to her quarters and make her think of England, that's good chap.' lol

 

I can't help it, hard to stay mad at his sexy ***. And his voice. OMGWTFBBQ! *Homer drool* Ahem...what was I saying? =D

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Ok, just because no one has done this one yet: JC/Qyzen with minor spoiler for the companion quest

 

Magdalane walked into the engine room of her ship, weary from a day of trying to negotiate a peace between two insignificant planets she had no true interest in. When she'd arrived on board with Lt. Iresso, she was notified by C2 that Qyzen had requested a word with her. So he's returned, she thought.

 

"Greetings, my friend. I trust your hunt went well?" she asked him.

He growled, "Herald bring great fortune to all who know her, and this fine pelt is result. Would like to request materials to cure it, as gift for you and your mate."

 

Magdalane thought they'd been discrete, but evidently not as much as she'd figured. Then again, as the crewmember who'd been with her the longest, perhaps he was just more perceptive.

 

"That is most kind, Qyzen," she answered. "Thank you for thinking of us."

 

Qyzen just stared at her for a long minute. "Human is lucky that Scorekeeper pick him for Herald. Any man be lucky." He stared at his feet, "Mate is good thing, Herald, good thing."

 

"Then why do you seem sad, Qyzen?"

 

He sighed, as much as a Transdoshan could. "Herald is prize, hate to lose Herald." He hugged her to him, crushing her, then abruptly let her go. "Herald is friend, asking Scorekeeper for her as mate is too much."

 

She didn't know how to answer that, had no idea that he'd ever thought about that. He turned away, and she started to leave him to his thoughts, but his growl stopped her. "Qyzen be watching him. Scorekeeper choose him, but if he is not good for Herald, he will count for points too."

 

She smiled as she went up the stairs.

 

 

 

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Ok, just because no one has done this one yet: JC/Qyzen with minor spoiler for the companion quest

 

Magdalane walked into the engine room of her ship, weary from a day of trying to negotiate a peace between two insignificant planets she had no true interest in. When she'd arrived on board with Lt. Iresso, she was notified by C2 that Qyzen had requested a word with her. So he's returned, she thought.

 

"Greetings, my friend. I trust your hunt went well?" she asked him.

He growled, "Herald bring great fortune to all who know her, and this fine pelt is result. Would like to request materials to cure it, as gift for you and your mate."

 

Magdalane thought they'd been discrete, but evidently not as much as she'd figured. Then again, as the crewmember who'd been with her the longest, perhaps he was just more perceptive.

 

"That is most kind, Qyzen," she answered. "Thank you for thinking of us."

 

Qyzen just stared at her for a long minute. "Human is lucky that Scorekeeper pick him for Herald. Any man be lucky." He stared at his feet, "Mate is good thing, Herald, good thing."

 

"Then why do you seem sad, Qyzen?"

 

He sighed, as much as a Transdoshan could. "Herald is prize, hate to lose Herald." He hugged her to him, crushing her, then abruptly let her go. "Herald is friend, asking Scorekeeper for her as mate is too much."

 

She didn't know how to answer that, had no idea that he'd ever thought about that. He turned away, and she started to leave him to his thoughts, but his growl stopped her. "Qyzen be watching him. Scorekeeper choose him, but if he is not good for Herald, he will count for points too."

 

She smiled as she went up the stairs.

 

 

 

And now I'm thinking of those twins from V. Thanks. lol Quite enjoyed this. I've only gotten up to Tharan and had a booty call with him. *sigh* Our Jedis get absolutely no love....except for the SW. Takes FOREVER to get love from Quinn and then no one else wants to do her....cept Pierce, but my SW had no interest in him at all.

 

More plzkthx! =D

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