Slightly disorganized, but again, it came together on the timeline: Trooper Vierce's nominee for Worst Day Ever, not counting the one that ripped up half his face. I'll have to write that one later. 1500 words, Trooper spoilers through Taris.

Turning Point

Broan and Lord Vizloch

I'd really like to explore this relationship a lot more. I like the idea of Lord Vizloch not being your "average" Sith Master - not playing apprentices off against each other for favour and not focusing solely on the Force as a means of exploring the universe. I like to think she's a Sith Philosopher who has found the meaning of life (or at least believes she has) and is unsatisfied with the results.

Elliotcat, I really hope things turn around for you. Also, Meyali's fate is just...delicious...I'm sure I grinned way too widely at that one, hehehe.

And I love Rylon and Mitka, they're just adorable kittens with sharp claws, lol. Bright, Earthmama, such fun characters! I used to teach and really enjoyed how complex teenagers are. They're naive and cynical and sweet and thoughtless - and that's usually all one person, lol.

Bright, you've put together a lot of characters I've enjoyed, but Vierce....I don't know, he may be my new favorite. And the trooper questline on Taris, I think I finished that up and just sat there and fumed (I think my girl chose almost the exact same stuff that this guy did,

. I am really really looking forward to how this progresses

 

"The sergeant's still happy, isn't she? So's Garza. We hit our happiness quota. I don't have to contribute. So move out."

This was my favorite line, lol, loved it!

Tatile, thank you for such an interesting character in Broan. He's ideal for those discussions of what a principled person does when faced with the rampant hypocrisy in the Republic.

Elliot- Its the weekend! Get some rest. And I don't think there's a single person in this thread that doesn't think Meyali got her just desserts. I'm super interested into getting to know Lord Zash in the SI story and the thought of her in make use of that waste of Force's head makes me giggle.

Bright_: One thing I picked up in both yours and Earthmama's stories was perception of nervousness. In Mitka's story she's a little out of sorts, taken off guard and Rylon comes in like he knows what he's doing. When they get to dinner, Rylon shows he's just as clueless as the next person, but his perception of Mitka is that she's got it together until the end. It makes you realize how much your perception of other people form your opinions of them, even if that's not at all what's really going on underneath.

And Vierce. I literally just did the Taris storyline. Both times I leveled a Trooper through Taris I was delighted to meet and take Dorne aboard, in game. I get affection that way. But that really shouldn't be the case, with Ipha's back story. You made me rethink Ipha a bit and gave me an idea for a story. Vierce is much put upon apparently, and I love your Jorgan. I just love Jorgan in general.

Tatile: I love seeing Broan. I think he's my favorite. A Jedi seduced by the dark side is too easy. But Broan wasn't seduced really, he saw how things went in the Republic, realized the hypocrisy and figured at least the Empire was open about the bad things they do. Its like switching what team you root for.

Slightly disorganized, but again, it came together on the timeline: Trooper Vierce's nominee for Worst Day Ever, not counting the one that ripped up half his face. I'll have to write that one later. 1500 words, Trooper spoilers through Taris.

 

I've not done any of the Republic stories, so it's a bit weird to see all the different interpretations of Jorgan that are floating round, but I liked this one. Practicality mixed with a bit of idealism; a nice off-set from Vierce's position of 'hate everything', but I don't think it exactly helped Give him a few days and maybe he'll calm down? Still I get the impression that it will take a while for Vierce to trust Dorne.

Thanks Morgani I'm not a big fan of "go Darkside, kill puppies" that seems to be the way of things, so I went with what I felt would be a more measured approach. To me being a Sith doesn't mean constant murder and mayhem - consider it the trope of 'nine to five villiany' if you will.

ElliotCat, I've nominated this thread for the Community Round Up, hope you don't mind.

Thanks Morgani I'm not a big fan of "go Darkside, kill puppies" that seems to be the way of things, so I went with what I felt would be a more measured approach. To me being a Sith doesn't mean constant murder and mayhem - consider it the trope of 'nine to five villiany' if you will.

I have to agree with you. Sith and the Darkside are much more interesting to me when they choose when to be evil, and for their own reasons, not just slaughtering everything because they can. Zash versus Thana Vesh (Imperial Taris).

I'd really like to explore this relationship a lot more. I like the idea of Lord Vizloch not being your "average" Sith Master - not playing apprentices off against each other for favour and not focusing solely on the Force as a means of exploring the universe. I like to think she's a Sith Philosopher who has found the meaning of life (or at least believes she has) and is unsatisfied with the results.

So yeah, I'd like to see more of this.

So...have had a very very rough week and am dealing with personal stuff. I feel worse than I have in YEARS...so prompts will probably be a little late. Sorry.

I'm so sorry to hear that, Elliotcat. I hope your week turns around for you. My week's been going down the drain too, so I hope you know you aren't alone.

Maybe later we can all come together and find some smooth over the rough edges, huh?

... Seriously, though.

That's actually not a bad idea.

I hope everything gets better, and take your time with the posts. I need to catch up with my stories anyway...

Apparently troopers have a lot of terrible, no good, very bad days....

The Burden of Command

Trooper - Sana w/ Jorgan

spoilers for post-Voss trooper and minor ones for Esseles

Edit: had to change the spoiler, ugh this is what I get for relying on my faulty memory. Sorry!

Author's Note:

I've not done any of the Republic stories, so it's a bit weird to see all the different interpretations of Jorgan that are floating round, but I liked this one. Practicality mixed with a bit of idealism

One of the neat things about Jorgan is that he goes through an arc of his own. The relationship between him and the trooper goes through some serious changes over the course of the game, whether or not there's a romance involved. He's not one of those companions who loves you as soon as you meet, quite the opposite. So the way you interact with him in the first chapter is quite a bit different than at the end.

Plus <spoilers for his companion quests here>:

Troopers have all the baggage the Jedi get saddled with (i.e. you're supposed to do the right thing for the Republic) without getting to say "well, the Force helped me make the right decision". It's all on you.

Really good "bad days" for both troopers.

I took a shot at "Worst Day Ever". Interestingly enough, I also went with a Trooper.

I haven't actually played all the way through the Trooper storyline, so this is basically the key element of her backstory. No spoilers!

Notes:

One of the neat things about Jorgan is that he goes through an arc of his own. The relationship between him and the trooper goes through some serious changes over the course of the game, whether or not there's a romance involved. He's not one of those companions who loves you as soon as you meet, quite the opposite. So the way you interact with him in the first chapter is quite a bit different than at the end.

Plus <spoilers for his companion quests here>:

 

At the beginning of the story he trusts the Republic, to the point where he's willing to give them the weaponized rakhghoul plague, but by the end he's realized just how far the government would go to win, and he doesn't trust them nearly as much. Seeing his old squad sacrificed on the possibility of finding a secret Imperial prison makes a big difference.

I think Jorgan is one of the best written companions (LI or not) in the game. He has a personality, one that even shifts slightly as the game progresses. He doesn't hero worship the Trooper right off the bat and salvaging a relationship (LI or not) with him is a major part of his story. For Fem Trooper, falling in love with him made sense. He wasn't just thrust on you (well he kind of was I guess in a story sense) and the romance begins deep enough into the story that it feels like you've spent sufficient enough time with him to get to know him and have your Fem Trooper start to develop feelings.

Week of 8/24/12

Turning Point - Last week we wrote about what life would be like if major events didn't happen. This week, we're writing about major events that DID happen. Pick a particularly important moment for your character, one that solidified their path. Write about what they did and why that moment was crucial.

:Turning Point:

(Featuring my Sith Warrior, Esiri Vae- Pureblood- and Vette. Cameo by Quinn.)

NOTE: This story is a bit long, partly because I wanted to get it just right from the scene in my head, and also partly to make up for having missed out lately on updates and posts for the latest prompts.

Author's Note: Uh... yeah. So I can see this as a turning point for something more between my SW and Vette, at least.

I hope the length didn't put you guys off, and I hope you enjoyed it!

I took a shot at "Worst Day Ever". Interestingly enough, I also went with a Trooper.

 

I haven't actually played all the way through the Trooper storyline, so this is basically the key element of her backstory. No spoilers!

 

 

 

Clarielle Elysra would never forget the day before her fifteenth birthday.

 

She and her father were in the living room. Alen Elysra was sitting on the sofa, looking through news reports on his datapad, while Clarielle perched on the sofa arm next to him and read over his shoulder.

 

“Four years since the Treaty, and the economy’s gone straight to hell,” Alen grumbled. “Almost makes one wish for another war.”

 

Clarielle tilted her head to one side. “Aren’t you glad the war’s over, Dad?”

 

He glanced over at her and smiled. “I was only joking, Clari. Of course I’m glad the war is over. The Treaty will give the Republic time to recover.”

 

“But won’t the Empire be able to recover, too?”

 

Alen shrugged. “Certainly it will. But that’s the thing about the Empire, Clari—while in theory it has a more efficient system, the advantages gained are squandered on infighting.” He reached over and gently hugged her around the shoulders. “You don’t have to grow up in that world, my dearest. Be glad.”

 

Clari nodded. “Whenever I hear on the HoloNet about what it’s like in the Empire…” She shuddered. “Is it really as horrible as they make it sound?”

 

“Trust me, you’re happier not knowing.”

 

“But I want to know!”

 

Alen shook his head. “I took you away from that place for a reason. I will not expose you to what I faced, even secondhand.”

 

“Dad, I’m almost fifteen. I can handle it.”

 

Her father closed his eyes for a long moment, then reopened them with a sigh. “No, Clari. I will not discuss it, and that is final.”

 

Clari crossed her arms petulantly. Every attempt to broach the subject of Alen’s past always ended like this, and her stepmother was no more forthcoming. “Fine,” she said, trying to sound like a mature adult. Maybe if she didn’t press the issue, he would be in a better mood, and more inclined to share later. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s all right with me.”

 

Alen frowned. “Watch your a’s.”

 

“It’s not my fault!” she said indignantly. “You’re the one with the accent! I can’t help it if I pick up on it!”

 

“We may not be at war any longer, but the last thing you need is people thinking you sound Imperial.”

 

“Technically, I am Imperial.”

 

Alen scowled. “By blood, yes. But you’ve been in the Republic for most of your life, and trying to embrace your roots at this stage is nothing short of ridiculous.”

 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Clari muttered contritely. She hated it when her father was angry with her.

 

“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Come here.”

 

She obediently leaned over for a hug.

 

“Now,” Alen said, “let’s talk about something else—“

 

The door chimed.

 

“I’ll get it!” Clari offered eagerly. She slid off the arm of the couch and trotted over to the door. A glance at the exterior security camera feed revealed the familiar face of her step-grandmother, so she keyed the door open.

 

Jiara Mahrin stepped inside, followed by two strange men in dark clothing whom Clarielle hadn’t noticed on the camera.

 

“Alen,” Jiara said coolly. “I need to talk to you.”

 

Alen set down his datapad. “Is something wrong? You didn’t say you were coming over. Did Sabine call you? Is she all right?”

 

She shook her head. “Sabine is fine. I’m very sorry about this.”

 

Clari looked from the visitors to her father, suddenly feeling uneasy.

 

“Alen Elysra,” Jiara said, “You are under arrest.”

 

“On what charge?” he demanded.

 

“You’re an Imperial spy,” one of the men accompanying Jiara said.

 

Clari gasped.

 

Alen rose slowly to his feet. “I should have known,” he said angrily. “The war’s over, so you have to find scapegoats, don’t you? Haul off anyone who doesn’t talk like you?”

 

“We have evidence,” Jiara said grimly.

 

“Of course you do!” Alen snapped. “Forged by you and your SIS friends, no doubt. What happened to integrity? Are we or are we not in the Galactic Republic?”

 

“Believe me, I wish I didn’t have to do this.”

 

“I’m a defector. I helped you. Have you forgotten that?”

 

“To use your terminology—forged evidence,” the SIS agent who had spoken earlier said.

 

“You can’t do this!” Alen said hotly. “I’ve been here for fourteen years. I’m a Republic citizen now, I have rights—“

 

Jiara reached into her jacket and pulled out a datapad, holding it out so he could see the display. Clari couldn’t see what was on it from her position by the door, but it made her father’s eyes widen.

 

“Didn’t you always say that the worst thing about the Empire is the infighting?” Jiara said thoughtfully. “One of your own people sold you out, Alen—or would you rather I called you Cipher?”

 

Alen took a deep breath, then another. “So,” he said slowly. “That’s how you want to play it, Agent Mahrin.” He smiled. “It certainly took you long enough.”

 

Clari covered her hands with her mouth, feeling the blood drain from her face. Her father was—no, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t. His voice sounded subtly different, somehow—colder, more emotionless, his accent a touch more pronounced.

 

“Come peacefully, Alen,” Jiara urged. “You’ve seen what the Empire does. You can help us end this threat once and for all.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Why should I?”

 

One of the SIS agents moved towards where Clari stood frozen by the door. Before she could react, he grabbed her and put a blaster to her head.

 

“Come with us, or the girl dies,” he threatened.

 

Jiara rounded on him furiously. “Damn it, Kettrith, you idiot—“

 

“Don’t,” Alen said softly, biting off each word with icy precision, “You. Dare. Threaten. My daughter.”

 

He moved.

 

Jiara swore under her breath and reached out to grab Clari as she stumbled away from Kettrith’s corpse. Blood trickled lightly down his face from a neat hole in his forehead.

 

Alen lowered the blaster that Clari had never realized he carried.

 

Jiara and the remaining agent drew their own weapons and took up defensive positions. Jiara kept Clari in a secure hold as she said in a level tone, “There was no need to resort to violence.”

 

Alen shook his head. “Don’t preach platitudes at me, Agent Mahrin. The two of us, we’re professionals. We know how the galaxy works.”

 

“Give yourself up,” Jiara told him. “You will be treated fairly in accordance with the Treaty of Coruscant.”

 

“We’re professionals,” Alen repeated. “Don’t be naïve. It doesn’t suit you.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be like this!”

 

“Yes, it does,” Alen whispered. He looked at his daughter. “I’m sorry, Clari.” He raised his blaster.

 

Jiara swore and hugged Clari close to her, pressing the girl’s face into her jacket as a single shot rang out.

 

Clari screamed.

 

 

 

Notes:

 

Afterward: Clari goes on to join the Republic military out of a desire to prove that she isn't defined by her heritage. Trooper storyline ensues! Unfortunately, I only got Elysra to level 24 before deleting her to make room for another female Sith Warrior...you can see how my priorities work, lol. So I'm not sure how much more we'll see of her in this thread.

 

Clarifications of points that might not have been clear:

- Alen Elysra was married to a Republic woman, Sabine Mahrin.

- Jiara Mahrin is Sabine's mother, and an SIS agent.

- Sabine is not Clarielle's biological mother.

- Clarielle's biological mother is Imperial.

- She and Alen divorced prior to his departure from Imperial space on a long-term deep cover mission. He brought his one year old daughter with him for added sympathy, and because he didn't want her to be raised by her mother and turn out like her older sister.

 

Things that aren't in the story but I'm putting here because I can:

- Clarielle's biological mother was also a Cipher Agent. By the time of this story, she has been dead for quite some time.

- Clarielle has an older sister.

- Said sister never left the Empire.

- Said sister also ended up working for Imperial Intelligence.

- Alen divorced his wife because he found out that she was hiding their oldest daughter's Force-sensitivity from the Sith and didn't want any part in that.

- Clarielle's mother's name was Inarys Serence, and her older sister took Inarys' last name. You may recall the name Vesania Serence from earlier posts...

 

That's my Inquisitor.

 

Did I just put spoiler tags inside spoiler tags? I am so cool.

That was so sad. On her birthday she finds that out. Thats really horrible ,but that was an amazing story! Great job on this Vess.

Also, I like the added info at the end. It helped me keep track of your characters and helps connect them.

:Turning Point:

(Featuring my Sith Warrior, Esiri Vae- Pureblood- and Vette. Cameo by Quinn.)

 

NOTE: This story is a bit long, partly because I wanted to get it just right from the scene in my head, and also partly to make up for having missed out lately on updates and posts for the latest prompts.

 

 

“You will be still, or this will hurt you more than it will help you,” Malavai Quinn’s voice is curt and crisp, his accent hardening his words rather than softening them.

 

When Vette glances at his face, twisted in concentration as he applies the antiseptic to her arm, she tries not to recoil at the calm façade he wears. The military man is, without a doubt, obscenely attractive physically- that the Twi’lek has no problem admitting to herself.

 

Personality wise, however…

 

Vette has seen melting glaciers show more emotion.

 

A slight sting races up her arm once the antiseptic hits the open wound, and Vette flinches despite Quinn’s prior words. Her emerald green eyes flicker to Quinn’s face for only a moment, before she turns away.

 

The man looks up at her, his ice blue eyes unreadable. While his face stays almost politely impassive, Vette gets the strongest inkling that deep inside he is probably internally scolding her.

 

Fortunately the strict social etiquette that’s probably been beaten in to him all his life is too far ingrained for Quinn to uncharacteristically explode in anger, or any other type of demonstrative expression really, at her. He must surely be close to losing patience with Vette’s stubbornness and her inability to actually heed instructions.

 

She’s surprised he hasn’t lost his decorum with her hardheaded tenacity, and wonders why he even continues trying to get her to listen.

 

As if he isn’t aware that the only person Vette shows any semblance of loyalty or respect to is his Sith Lord, Esiri Vae.

 

Speaking of the devil, where is Vae? Vette thinks, trying to tune out the smells and noises of the medicine Quinn smoothly begins applying to her various wounds and bruises. She never does like getting into a middle of a large fight between Republic and Imperial soldiers, but seeing as she has been traveling with the Pureblood Sith for quite some time now, injuries and death defying moments are becoming far too normal for her liking.

 

Both she and the Pureblood had returned to the ship, each tallying their own orchestra of injuries from the onslaught that had been Tatooine. The mission had been impressively brutal, and even Vae- despite her usual efficiency and her unusual habits of not killing when it isn’t absolutely necessary – had her fair share of bumps and bruises to attest to their difficult experience.

 

Though, now that Vette has a moment to think about it, during their return to the ship Vae had been uncharacteristically distant and formal with her during the trek back to the station, and the shuttle ride as well. Unsettling formal; going as far as to silence Vette’s inquisitive questions of concern for the Pureblood’s welfare with a steady look from her intense orange-gold gaze.

 

Vette, having grown so accustomed to many of Vae’s behaviors and tell-tale signs that she could usually ignore many of Vae’s words and know she was okay, had no choice but to swallow the rest of what she’d been intent on saying. The look in Vae’s eyes had not been threatening- in fact, Vette cannot remember if Vae had ever actually intentionally frightened her, besides their first meeting when Vette assumed the worst. But the intent in them was so stifling and almost searing, that Vette had shifted uncomfortably and turned her gaze to the shuttle window, not being determined enough to meet Vae’s eyes with her own.

 

Vette knows something is up with Vae, from how the Pureblood has acted. And, for an outsider viewing on the pair, seeing a Sith sitting frigidly next to a Twi’lek is not something strange or unusual in and of itself.

 

But for Vette- who has gotten to know the Sith well beyond her initial reservations and disdain for everything she stands for –can honestly call Vae a friend, and has gotten well-adjusted to the quiet, unnamed bond that has been growing between them lately.

 

Well- Vette considers her a friend without having to actually tell anyone or claim it in any way. As much as Vette likes to think Vae has some fondness for her company, she knows others would not take lightly for the alien considering herself any kind of equal with a Pureblood.

 

But now-

 

Vette lets out a hiss, and her thoughts scatter, as Quinn indelicately slaps on a patch of gel, before wrapping it in a small bandage that he states she is to keep on for at least three hours to help her wound heal without leaving any scars.

 

Vette just glares at him.

 

“Ya know, as a part time Healer, your bedside manners are severely lacking.” She promptly tells him.

Quinn lifts a dark eyebrow, conveying all the contempt he holds for her in that one movement, before moving away from the bio-bed to clean up all of the supplies he’d used.

 

He remains silent in his work, and Vette slightly slumps down on the bed, a pout tugging at her lips. She knows he only puts up with her because Vae has made it abundantly clear that there is to be no altercations between any of her crewmates without her authorization first.

 

With a shake of her head that makes her lekku swing behind her, Vette hops down from the bio-bed and makes her way to the door.

 

“Thanks,” she calls over her shoulder. Quinn ignores her. As the door swishes open and she steps into the slightly cooler corridor, Vette adds under her breath, “For nothing.”

 

The door closes behind her, and Vette is left blessedly alone. Rolling her aching shoulders, she makes her way down the corridor, wandering if she is actually hungry enough to stop and eat before going to a shower and assaulting it.

 

Her mind isn’t quite made up for certain when she passes by the small counsel room, where Vae would sometimes use the console to let the others know when she wished for them to gather together for a briefing.

 

Peering in through the threshold, Vette makes out Vae’s long, slender form slightly hunched over the briefing desk, both her hands planted on the hard surface to keep her frame upright. The Sith has apparently taken off her traveling robes and armor from their mission, currently wearing only black pants, black knee-high boots and an off-white blouse, with the sleeves rolled up to bunch at her elbows.

 

Even her long, inky black hair has been pulled from its pinup, spilling down the Pureblood’s lean back in a messy tumble of thick curls and waves.

 

The vibrant, rich red skin of her forearms are almost sacrilegiously blotched and darkened by bruises. A makeshift bandage is wrapped around her left wrist, where a severe blaster bolt had caught her; it is slightly rumpled and awkward enough for Vette to gather Vae has treated herself rather than see Quinn for better treatment.

 

That thought alone that makes Vette’s heart twinge, and before she is aware of it her feet are making its way into the room and towards the Sith.

 

Vae doesn’t look up from her steady gaze on the table’s surface, even as Vette’s loud footsteps have surely reached her ears. For a moment the two women stand silently in the room, and Vette shifts her weight, not sure why she suddenly feels like the air is growing hotter and thicker.

 

Finally, after what seems like an eternity unto itself, Vae pushes off the desk and stands to her full height. Even in her slightly less formal wear, the Pureblood’s presence is dominating and powerful, and she appears to command respect even as Vette sees that her waist is empty of her lightsabre hilts.

 

For some unknown reason to Vette, Vae has never taken to wearing her weapons on her ship, despite knowing that not all of the crewmembers get along so well with one another.

 

Vae regards Vette quietly, making no move to speak first.

 

Vette clears her throat, wishing she wasn’t feeling quite so awkward all of a sudden. She’s never had problems striking up conversations- and maintaining them –around the Sith before.

 

There should be absolutely no reason for her to start now.

 

“… So. What a day, huh?” Vette says with a nervous chuckle, bringing her hands together to wring the fingers in between one another. It is a nervous habit she’s has since she was a child, and unfortunately she has never grown out of it.

 

Vae tilts her head slightly, her face giving away nothing. A chill runs up Vette’s spine, but she ignores it.

 

“Are you… um, okay? From earlier, I mean.” Vette waves a hand in the direction of Vae’s arms, and the Pureblood takes a look at the bruises as if she is first discovering them. “They look painful.,” she adds.

 

Then she winces as she internally scolds herself for saying something so stupid.

 

They look painful? She thinks. Of course they are, you stupid girl.

 

Trust her to babble off the most obvious. Vae meets her eyes, and slowly, some semblance of emotion comes back to her face, softening the sharp edges and bringing warmth back to her eyes.

 

Vette lets out a breath she did not even realize she was holding.

 

“My injuries are of no consequence,” Vae says simply with a one-armed shrug. Her voice is low, rich and slightly husky, and no matter how much Vette can listen to her talk, it never ceases to make Vette feel… well.

 

Some thoughts are best left alone.

 

And it is as Vette’s eyes move from anxiety that she catches just the barest hint of a bruise tainting the skin at Vae’s neck, barely peeking over the collar of the Pureblood’s blouse. The bruise is garish enough to make Vette’s stomach turn, and just for a moment, corrosive anger overtakes her on the Pureblood’s behalf.

 

Vae’s eyes narrow, and the Twi’lek loses her anger, watching the Sith take in the bandages and bruises on her own form. The Pureblood’s lips close tight, and even from the distance between them Vette sees her jaws clenching. Vette also notices Vae’s hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, almost as if in reflex. Being the subject of such an unwavering stare is unsettling as it is flattering, and Vette feels her skin growing hot despite her efforts to remain unaffected.

 

“Your injuries are taken care of,” Vae says, her voice making it bluntly known she is stating, not asking. As if Vette should know it is not an option that she have her injuries treated after a mission.

 

Vette nods.

 

“Yeah, Mr. Military did a thorough job, and he was quick too,” Vette pauses, wandering if she is going too far with her next words. “He’s free now… if you want to have him check you over, i-if you want to..”

 

Vae shakes her head.

 

“I’m fine,” she says. And then her next words make Vette freeze. “Thanks to you, of course.”

 

Vette blinks.

 

“Huh?”

 

“You saved me,” Vae says, and though her voice doesn’t harbor any ill will, her face has become stormy with some unnamed emotion. And Vette is suddenly thinking back to how the pair of them had been swarmed upon by a multitude of Republic soldiers, and while Vae’s blades had been swirls of swipes and parries, she’d had her back uncovered.

 

A soldier had tried to move it with a shot, but Vette had managed to jump in the way at the last moment, the bolt slamming into her arm and forcing her to collide with Vae’s back. When the Sith had turned and saw what had happened, it only took- literally –three seconds for her to finish off the soldier who’s done it.

 

“Um… you’re welcome?” Vette hedges, unsure of how to properly respond. Why does Vae sound so surprised? As if Vae hasn’t, at one time or another, saved Vette’s life as well. “We’re partners, right? I’m supposed to put my life on the line for you. That’s how it works,”

 

The last part Vette says with a grin, trying to lift the mood.

 

It does the exact opposite.

 

Moving so fast that when Vette blinks she is suddenly aware only of the fact that the Sith has moved, Vette is being pressed back against the counsel desk. The edge of the desk presses into her thighs, and Vae steps in closer until the Twi’lek has to partially bend backwards, planting her hands on the desk to help with balance, in order to keep some personal space between them.

 

The look in Vae’s eyes make Vette’s knees weak, and she suddenly finds her throat impossibly dry.

 

“That is not how it works,” Vae says softly, the firm steel in her voice making it certain Vette is not to argue. She looms even closer, until their faces are mere inches away, and the air is warm between them as their breaths mingle together. “We work as a team, yes. Throwing ourselves into situations that can get us killed? No.”

 

For one insane moment, impulsiveness overtakes Vette before her caution can.

 

“Don’t be a hypocrite,” she snaps, and Vae starts in surprise at the sudden venom in the Twi’lek’s voice. “You throw yourself into dangerous situations all the time, and if I had a credit for every time you’ve place yourself in harm’s way for me I’d have enough to disappear from the Empire for good. So don’t you dare tell me I can’t do the same! Even if you are a Sith, you can’t be so self-righteous as to think I can’t try and help you-”

 

Vette’s rant is violently interrupted when Vae reaches out and clamps both hands on her shoulders, pulling the Twi’lek forward. For one impossible moment that stretches into forever, Vette thinks, Is she going to kiss me?, and has no time to process if the thought terrifies her- or does something else; even as she licks her own lips on impulse.

 

But it is all for not because at the last moment, Vae tilts her head down so that their foreheads press together instead, keeping their mouths safely separated. The Sith’s skin is impossibly warm and soft, and her nose bump’s Vette’s so awkwardly that despite her reservations of this sudden display of intimacy, Vette cannot help it when her lips twitch in a grin.

 

But then the humor disappears and the heaviness of the moment comes back, making Vette feel twitchy and far too warm in her own skin. Her heart thuds heavily in her chest, and she wonders if she feels lightheaded because she cannot get enough air through to her lungs.

 

Feeling daring, Vette lifts one shaking hand and slowly lets it fall to the back of Vae’s neck, feeling the silky black tresses of her hair tickling her fingers. Without warning, a warm surge of protectiveness and passion so strong and impulsive overwhelms the Twi’lek, and her hand squeezes impossibly tight on Vae’s neck, wishing to convey to the Sith that Vette is here and that she isn’t going anywhere.

 

A breathy moan slips from Vae’s throat, and her hands slip from Vette’s shoulders down to her waist, where they slip to her back to fully wrap around the Twi’lek’s slim form. Vette lets out a surprised squeak when Vae pulls her body flush against her own, and she feels the Pureblood lower her head until she can turn her face and place it between the crook of Vette’s jawline and collar bone.

 

The fluttering of Vae’s long lashes against the skin of her neck feels like a butterfly’s kiss, and a sigh of content escapes Vette. As much as the moment is far too intimate and uncharacteristic of Vae, it feels so right and the Twi’lek isn’t sure if she wants it to end.

 

Time is suspended as the two women stand in such a tight embrace, and then slowly Vae pulls away.

 

Vette opens her moth to say something, but stops when Vae does something else entirely uncharacteristic.

 

She reaches out to cup Vette’s jaw in her hand, her thumb stroking along Vette’s chin. When Vette raises her brow in question, Vae shakes her head.

 

She lets her hand drop.

 

“You should get something to eat and find rest. Baras will be contacting us soon,” Vae says, her voice back to its usual calm and collected timbre.

 

“I…” Vette stops herself. She tries again. “I will do that,” she says instead.

 

Vae nods, before turning and briskly walking out of the room as if nothing has happened.

 

And if it isn’t for the way Vette’s skin still feels too warm, her heart still pounds so heavily, and her chin tingles pleasantly from the gentle touch, she could convince herself as much.

 

But she cannot do so.

 

Instead, she smiles to herself and leaves to search out some much needed food, replaying the feel of Vae’s body so close and warm against her own.

 

 

 

Author's Note: Uh... yeah. So I can see this as a turning point for something more between my SW and Vette, at least.

 

I hope the length didn't put you guys off, and I hope you enjoyed it!

Sorry for the double post ,but just wanted to tell you awesome job on this! I love any story about Vette but this was awesome. Great job on this one.

And as a universal great job for all the stories I read.... Great job people. I loved them all.

Troopers have all the baggage the Jedi get saddled with (i.e. you're supposed to do the right thing for the Republic) without getting to say "well, the Force helped me make the right decision". It's all on you.

 

Really good "bad days" for both troopers.

I have to say, this is the main reason I love my Trooper far more than my Jedi. Troopers don't have a moral crutch or some sort of supernatural cheat code working for them. It'll all human fallibility, all the time. And they have to deal with it good or ill. More, they don't have the comfort of the Smuggler's sarcasm to cover up just how much their missions are costing them. They don't have the chance to make themselves believe their own BS, because once they're done making the Hard Calls on one mission, another one is chambered and locked.

Really, the Trooper storyline isn't as emotionally crushing as it could be, or as I wish it would be. There's so much idealism in the Jedi stories and snarky fun in the Smuggler's epic that I really do wish that the Republic side had the Trooper to kick the player in the gut with "and this is what war really is."

...sorry. I'm slowly writing my own offering, and I've bee

 

Just imagine the difference if upon boarding your ship after losing Jaxo or the squadron, rather than immdiately seeing Garza, it shows the Trooper. Sitting on the floor in his/her quarters with his head in his hands and a bottle next to him. No dialog, just a single silent scene a few seconds long, not even a musical accompaniment. Just silence and a Command Officer without a person he can lean on and the aftermath of whatever he wrought. In the next room, Jorgen, working on weaponry before stopping and just hanging his head, Elara sorting supplies until she just...stops. Just duty, silence and pain. As a friend back from Afghanistan put it, "a combat soldier's lot in life."

 

This would be unspeakably powerful. A ship of comrades and defenders in arms ultimately alone in their pain. Excuse me, I need to go have Ipha hug Jorgan.

I have to say, this is the main reason I love my Trooper far more than my Jedi. Troopers don't have a moral crutch or some sort of supernatural cheat code working for them. It'll all human fallibility, all the time.

***

 

Just imagine the difference if upon boarding your ship after losing Jaxo or the squadron, rather than immdiately seeing Garza, it shows the Trooper. Sitting on the floor in his/her quarters with his head in his hands and a bottle next to him. No dialog, just a single silent scene a few seconds long, not even a musical accompaniment. Just silence and a Command Officer without a person he can lean on and the aftermath of whatever he wrought. In the next room, Jorgen, working on weaponry before stopping and just hanging his head, Elara sorting supplies until she just...stops. Just duty, silence and pain. As a friend back from Afghanistan put it, "a combat soldier's lot in life."

 

***

I think the trooper is probably the most "human" (species not-with-standing) of all the classes: they're not in charge, they don't have powers, they can't just go do their own thing, and at the same time they're responsible for a crap ton. At any rate, my favorite class so far of all that I've leveled. Oh, quick note though - if you could spoiler the parts that are spoiler-y that would be awesome so surprises stay intact for the people who want them

Loving the stories guys!

At any rate, my favorite class so far of all that I've leveled. Oh, quick note though - if you could spoiler the parts that are spoiler-y that would be awesome so surprises stay intact for the people who want them

Loving the stories guys!

Done. Sorry. /sheepish

Done. Sorry. /sheepish

No worries

 

Just imagine the difference if upon boarding your ship after losing Jaxo or the squadron, rather than immdiately seeing Garza, it shows the Trooper. Sitting on the floor in his/her quarters with his head in his hands and a bottle next to him. No dialog, just a single silent scene a few seconds long, not even a musical accompaniment. Just silence and a Command Officer without a person he can lean on and the aftermath of whatever he wrought. In the next room, Jorgen, working on weaponry before stopping and just hanging his head, Elara sorting supplies until she just...stops. Just duty, silence and pain. As a friend back from Afghanistan put it, "a combat soldier's lot in life."

 

I think the reason they don't do this in game, is the same reason we've seen several versions of this incident and the trooper's reaction in stories in this thread. The people who care about these moments will imagine it, maybe even write it down, and incorporate their character's reaction to the event in his/her later decisions. Also, not everyone's reaction will be the same. One person might see an intensely personal, quiet moment like you suggest, someone else sees their character punching through a bulkhead or ripping the doors off the lockers. Another might shrug off the whole thing--or pretend to.

No one's right. And everyone is.

I have to say, this is the main reason I love my Trooper far more than my Jedi. Troopers don't have a moral crutch or some sort of supernatural cheat code working for them. It'll all human fallibility, all the time. And they have to deal with it good or ill. More, they don't have the comfort of the Smuggler's sarcasm to cover up just how much their missions are costing them. They don't have the chance to make themselves believe their own BS, because once they're done making the Hard Calls on one mission, another one is chambered and locked.

 

Really, the Trooper storyline isn't as emotionally crushing as it could be, or as I wish it would be. There's so much idealism in the Jedi stories and snarky fun in the Smuggler's epic that I really do wish that the Republic side had the Trooper to kick the player in the gut with "and this is what war really is."

 

 

Just imagine the difference if upon boarding your ship after losing Jaxo or the squadron, rather than immdiately seeing Garza, it shows the Trooper. Sitting on the floor in his/her quarters with his head in his hands and a bottle next to him. No dialog, just a single silent scene a few seconds long, not even a musical accompaniment. Just silence and a Command Officer without a person he can lean on and the aftermath of whatever he wrought. In the next room, Jorgen, working on weaponry before stopping and just hanging his head, Elara sorting supplies until she just...stops. Just duty, silence and pain. As a friend back from Afghanistan put it, "a combat soldier's lot in life."

 

 

...sorry. I'm slowly writing my own offering, and I've bee

to get myself in the right mood and mindset.

I agree totally. The trooper is the most (or should be) the most realistic class in terms of the event going on around them. I mean a solider's life is always hurting and always demmanding; the right orders for the right time. They have to do the hard things to get the mission done and the other stuff is just being human. The reactions and decsions afterwards aren't the reflections of the a Jedi or Sith code, but past experinces and the reality of war. Strip away the idealogy of the Sith and Jedi and this is what you get.

Man, the trooper stories so far have been... I just really need to go roll a trooper excuse me.

Prompt: The Worst Day Ever/ Turning Point

Title: Bedtime Story

Featuring: Verana (Nox)

Spoilers: None

Author Note:

Prompt: The Worst Day Ever/ Turning Point

 

Title: Bedtime Story

 

Featuring: Verana (Nox)

 

Spoilers: None

 

 

She was five years old when she was taken. When everything she knew was taken from her.

 

It was on Dromund Kass, eight years before The Treaty of Corucant. Verana and her mother were in their apartment getting ready for bed with the daily ritual of reading a story. Verana’s mother looked through the bookshelf for a story that Verana would like to read. She looked over to her daughter who sat up against the back of the bed, with an excited grin on her face. Mother smiled admiring her daughter as she grabbed a book off the shelf and went to Verana’s bedside.

 

“What story is this mommy”, asked Verana curiously as she scooted closer to her mother.

 

Mother put an arm around Verana and replied,” This one is about a princess who became an Empress.”

 

“Does the story have pretty dresses and handsome princes”, asked Verana looking up at her mother, deep red eyes twinkling.

 

“Sure does honey”, replied her mother smiling.

 

“Oh boy”, exclaimed Verana turning her attention excitedly to the book laying in her mother’s hands.

 

Verana’s mother opened the book and began to read. Verana listened intently as her mother created a fluid and exciting movie in Verana’s mind. She heard how a slave girl was granted a wish by a ghost and became beautiful for one night to go to the Emperor’s Ball. The girl went to the Ball and met a dashing Sith Lord who cherished her like a princess. However, she left the Ball and was never heard from. However, she left behind her amulet that the Sith had given her as they danced the night before. The Sith Lord looked everywhere for the girl and eventually found her as a slave to a master in a cantina. The prince saved her and married her, cherishing every moment he had with her. From then on they shared the throne and lived happily ever after as Emperor and Empress.

 

Verana was sound asleep on her mother’s lap as her mother closed out with the final words. She looked down at her little girl as a small tear ran down her cheek.

 

“Someday you will rule Ana. It’s your destiny.”

 

Verana’s mother picked up her daughter and tucked her in. She left the room without another word.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

“No”, screamed Mother,” You can’t take her! She isn’t Force-Sensitive!”

 

“Your daughter is an abomination to the Sith”, shouted the slaver as he yanked Verana out of her mother’s grasp.

 

“Mommy”, cried Verana as she was carried away by the slaver towards his ship.

 

“No”, shrieked Mother as she ran after the slaver, trampling over bustling pedestrians that tried to make their way through the spaceport.

 

The slaver turned back and pushed Mother down. He spoke in an angry and deadly tone,” You should be proud that she is even serving under a lord of the Sith! Darth Baras has requested her slavery to him personally!”

 

“Mommy help me!” cried Verana as she was dragged away by the slaver.

 

Verana’s mother tried to get up from the floor of the port but too many people rushed by. Within moments all Verana could see was the blur of Imperials rushing past and the faint cry of Verana’s name across the spaceport.

 

“No”, whimpered Verana as tears ran down her face.

 

Suddenly, a voice echoed in Verana’s mind, her mothers.” Someday you will rule Ana. It’s your destiny.”

 

“I love you Mommy”, whispered Verana as she was taken up the loading ramp of the slavers ship,” I’ll come back for you when I’m empress. Promise.”

 

 

Author Note:

Can anyone tell what the story is:D? Anyway this is a more biographical story of Verana and her drive behind her powerplays which will explain ALOT more later. Also, just something I might try (not trying to steal your thunder Vess.)

 

Verana is 5 at the time of this.

Mother does not currently have a name for story purposes thus far.

She was taken as a slave because of her non-force sensitivity which will later manifest so that it is much more apparent later.

Loved it. Short and gets the message across More please

I should also be trying to write something but it's been a busy week and I've got a bit of a writer's block

@bright_ephemera I agree with previous comments, Vierce is my new favorite.

I do think it's kind of curious that Aric in-game mystically forgets what an complete hard-a** he was when he first met you. then when you play it back at him he says "is that how it's going to be?" Ya m*f*er it is.

@Tatile I like this early Broan/Vizloch pairing.

@iamthehoyden I wish there could be some kind of option to express to someone you feel bad about that particular incident. Instead it's just ok well carry on.

@Vesaniae Very cool, poor Clarielle. I disagree with Jiara though, that one piece of violence was necessary.

@RepublicGurl I loved it and it wasn't too long, I couldn't stop reading.

@SveinEternity This was great. I like the idea that she came into her power late (it kind of begs for a What If though )