“Sorry, I’m waiting for someone.”

“Thanks, but…nuh-uh.”

“As if.”

Some evenings went more smoothly than others. From a certain point of view, a steady stream of rejections could be said to go smoothly. They all went in the same direction, anyway. If Wynston were in the habit of taking these things personally he would be an unhappy man, but he knew perfectly well that life hadn’t handed him the usual trappings of attractiveness – short and blue was an unpopular start – and even if it had, in this pursuit one had to fail a lot to succeed.

But tonight wasn’t turning anything up at all, and Wynston was about ready to leave the cantina behind. Some evenings the only productive pursuit available was perusing Intelligence bulletins, and, after all, it wouldn’t do to have too many unproductive evenings in a row. He did care about keeping up with his job. He just liked new company when he got the chance.

He considered the dance floor. There were some women there who hadn’t come in range of the bar yet, and most of those probably hadn’t noticed him and his previous efforts. He danced casually toward a tall Human girl who had drifted a little from her circle. The moment she noticed him she rolled her eyes and turned a little toward her friend, edging him out. That was his sign to call it a night.

Then it happened. The crowds parted just the right way for just a moment, and in the doorway he saw a Togruta woman, square-jaw striking, alone. Their eyes met, and whether she could properly read Chiss eyes or not he knew she knew it.

It was a strict policy of his never to waste an opportunity like that. The instant the crowds closed again he went into motion; it was best to go unseen until he could appear next to her, which he did before she had quite made it to the coat check. Red and white skin, glossy blue lipstick, clinging black dress over killer curves…there was something worth noting in everyone, and she certainly gave enough to work with.

He offered a hand. “Can I take your coat?”

She tugged it free of one head-tail and, half smiling while she passed it over, said “You work here?”

“No, but I promise I’ll give it back when we’re done.” Without looking he handed the coat off to the staff droid and accepted the return ticket. In the interest of not actually pressuring her he handed it over with a smile. “My name’s Alexis. Who might you be?”

She made the interesting decision to tuck the ticket into her top. Her full little mouth quirked a sly smile while he processed the fact that she really had no other place to put it in her outfit. “Liira Vodd. I was just going for a drink, if you’re not too busy managing the front desk I guess you could come with.”

“My treat, Liira Vodd.” This night was looking up after all.

"I live to serve the Empire."

Dha looked down at Mako, concerned. She'd done nothing but sit there, eyes unblinking, and drone that over and over again, since she'd been shot with a mind-altering dart from an Imperial agent in the jungle. He wondered how long she'd remain like this; since the Imp had been killed, would she just remain like this until the drug was out of her system, or would the brainwashing eventually evolve so she did serve the Empire?

"Where's that kriffing Jedi?" he demanded.

"Patience, please," begged the doctor. "She is on her way."

Dha knew he cut an intimidating figure; in his bulky Mandalorian armor, blaster strapped prominently at his hip, he was the very appearance of a culture that was usually on the other side of the war from this doctor. But as long as he helped Mako, he had nothing to fear.

"I live to serve the Empire." Mako's eyes widened. "Must serve the Empire. Must serve!"

She jumped up and charged for the med-center's exit. Dha quickly jumped in front of her, grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her off her feet. Mako shrieked at him and started slamming her fists on his shoulder, ignoring the pain of her hand against the beskar'gam. She shouted at him and actually began physically sobbing; he wondered if the drug caused her pain when she didn't follow its commands. If so, some Imperial's head would roll.

"Must serve!" she shrieked. "I have to, I have to! Please!"

The doctor ran over and quickly strapped Mako's wrists down to the examining table. She pulled as hard as she could against the restraints, and Dha felt his heart ache at the sight of his wife in such a condition. A moment later, a woman clad in white robes walked in and looked from the doctor, to Dha, to Mako, and back.

"Is this the brainwashed patient?" the white-robed woman asked.

"Her name is Mako, jetii," Dha snapped, "and she's my wife, understand?"

The Jedi nodded. "Apologies. My name is Ylenia." She turned to Mako. "I will see what I can do for her."

"Don't you touch me, Jedi!" Mako spat. "I serve the Empire, I must!"

"I suggest you leave," Ylenia said. "This may be painful for you to see."

Dha nodded grimly, and walked outside the med-center to wait.

The speeder cab drove us past the city through caves and swaths of nearly untouched jungle. Talos ignored it all in favor of telling me about the people he had met during his service to the Empire. He described a fantastical assortment of alien species including an ancient Dashade.

"It must have been interesting work as the chief medic with a crew of such a wide assortment of species." I remarked, "The Empire rarely sees to the needs of even Togruta or Kaleesh, a Dashade must have been quite a challenge." I thought back to the distasteful crash course I had taken in Talz anatomy.

"Actually, Darth Occulus saw to the care of her apprentices, and I was quite familiar with the anatomy of the Dashade, I did my final year dissertation on Force-consumption of non-Force wielding entities at the Academy." He smiled proudly at first then his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, "It was all for the best I suppose, the one time I prescribed a new diet to Darth Occulus's apprentice, she had the flux for days. I thought her previous one was a bit too high in protein."

"Togruta are carnivores, Talos." I pointed out.

"Well yes, I know that now. But it was hardly something I would have found useful in the Reclamation Service and how was I to know? Give me a single tooth or bone and I could have told you what she ate twenty years ago but all of them were still in her body. Covered in tissue, no less, I prefer not to work with tissue."

"It's in the medical database."

He waved his hand dismissing the entire Imperial medical database as irrelevant. "It was just as well and I was very apologetic. Lord Zavros forgave me when I explained that I was far more suited to dealing with remains. I'm just glad that was sorted before we acquired Xalek, I doubt he'd have been as forgiving." His smile was untroubled as his eyes stared far away, he obviously remembered them fondly.

How someone like Talos managed to survive on a ship with no less than three Sith, an actual pirate, and a monster remains a mystery to me.

When Torian answered the knock on the door to his new quarters he found his new leader leaning into the angle of the awkwardly placed strut outside. Her hair was down and her armor off, leaving him at a loss for words while he took in the fitted red sweater and the dark blue waves.

"Question," she said.

Well, she was nothing if not straightforward. "Answer," he said, with a little grin. "What's up?"

"Dromund Kaas. HBeast. You know that was a ritual blooding?" There was a long shadow to some of her vowels, that odd extra breath on some words, that was unlike any accent he knew.

Enough of that, she’d asked a question. "Thought it might be. I couldn't think of anybody who'd be paying you to do it, so hana'ac was probably it." That she’d proved herself in battle even before then, he was sure; she had a scar over her right eye running from brow to cheekbone. It had missed the eye itself. Those were matched, red and unwavering.

Her full lips turned down. "Everyone knew but me, huh?"

About her being inducted as a Mandalorian after she was declared Champion? "Only the ones paying attention. Did Mandalore really surprise you with the initiation?"

Calline nodded.

"So you faced down the charge and took it. That…fits you, mesh'la."

"Still know zilch. Language included."

There was his chance to back off from the impulse term, “beautiful,” that he’d used here and when she’d told him “champion” wouldn’t do. He could come clean, it was a silly one-off he’d half expected her to recognize. Only…was he that sure she would take the real translation with that grace she’d showed elsewhere? He would never back down from a fight, but he didn’t know her well enough now to be sure she wouldn’t just send him back out the door. Maybe later. "Told you. ‘Honored.’ It's usually reserved for one-on-one.” Some Mando’a words really were like that. “There are other words for squad leader, battle leader, scouting-pathfinding leader…hey," he said, leaning back and checking her expression, "we don't have to start there."

"Just Traditions 101 today. I should know what I’m doing." She glared past him as if preparing to blast the next question that came her way. Defensive. But she was talking to him. He wouldn’t waste that.

He stepped back to let her in, backed off to settle at the head of his narrow bunk. Calline unselfconsciously sat at the foot, pulled off her boots, and drew her legs up to sit cross-legged facing him, long-boned and graceful. He sat up straighter, realizing for the first time that he had the Grand Champion’s undivided attention.

“So,” he said lightly, his heart beating faster behind the words. “Ask away.”

Hana’ac is invented because, while Google boasts several Mando’a resources, I didn’t immediately see a term for ritual blooding.

@Bright, Calline might be one of my favorite characters of yours. I love that she’s so straightforward. And Torian continuing his little language lie is certainly endearing. I can see him doing that with a hunter who’s very much an outsider to the culture.

@kabeone,

How someone like Talos managed to survive on a ship with no less than three Sith, an actual pirate, and a monster remains a mystery to me.

How true! But then again, who could resist the adorableness that is Talos Drellik?

@Yoshi, I really liked this one. Very scary for Dha, and you make Mako’s brainwashed hysterics so palpable. The uncertainty just adds to the fear factor.

@elliotcat

Poking my head in for a sec...

 

Saw that a bunch of y'all are having cool conversations on tumblr. I kind of want to give it another shot! PM me your tumblr names? :3

 

I'm gonna write something later tonight, hopefully!

More stories, yay! And I'm rissalf over on the tumblr.

Kinka stood back and admired her figure in the long bedroom mirror. Though she didn’t believe it possible, the dress fit even better than the last time she’d worn it. At 17 her body had been all skin and bones. A decade later, the shiny red silk embraced her slight frame’s new curves. The years —and her exhaustive fitness regimen — had been beneficial for something after all. Kinka couldn’t help but smile at that.

The makeup she left the same, save for trading unscented lip balm for a deep burgundy gloss that smelled of cherry and vanilla. For a final touch, she twisted her hair into a delicate bun, letting the hair fall over her eye a little more than she’d usually allow. Just this once, she wanted to be the girl she used to be. The one who loved parties and pretty clothes. The one who didn’t see rot and death every time she closed her eyes.

She told Kaliyo it was a surveillance op, that she and Vector would be posing as an affluent couple enjoying the best of Nar Shaddaa’s glitzy nightlife while keeping tabs on some Republic dignitary. She’d told Vector the same.

In truth, there was no mission. The lie just a flimsy ruse to spend a night out with the charming diplomat. To dance and drink and maybe forget. She'd earned that much.

***

The agent cut a sleek silhouette as she crossed the dark cantina with a fluid grace few could ever hope to mimic. The floor-length gown’s glowing shimmersilk moved as she did, lights glinting off the intricate beading with every step. Vector’s pulse quickened; he’d felt a breath catch in his throat, unsure just what had caused the anomaly. He fought a blush as he puzzled out the achingly human response to the agent’s appearance. She was a dream come to life. Increasingly, his dream.

Her appearance was markedly different from what he was used to seeing. The agent’s normal attire, on and off duty, was drab and muted — dark boots, grey skin-hugging pants, black tops that let varying degrees of pale skin show whenever the situation called for it. She was meant to melt into the shadows; tonight she did anything but.

“You look lovely.” Vector took her hand before even thinking — remembering something he’d seen in an old holovid — and brought it to his lips. Her skin was warm, and a familiar scent put him instantly at ease. She smelled of spring on Alderaan, of sunlight and the crisp dawn air. Of home. A smile parted his lips. “A dance, Mrs. Hyllus?”

A chill traveled down her spine at his words, and a grin spread across her lips. “I’d love to.”

The Alyssum family's main branch was based in a huge manor complex outside of Kaas City, nestled in the jungle and only accessible to those willing to traverse the unforgivable terrain. I was delivered there by shuttle, though, bypassing the maze of trees and vines, disembarking at the roof entrance to the manor. A pair of young men met me at the door and took their places beside me - apparently they'd been tasked with escorting me to their master. Neither of them met my eye, but I could read the disgust in their faces. They seemed ashamed to work for a man who'd send for a woman as young as me. I didn't really feel shame, myself. I was here for an important purpose; I wasn't some sort of prostitute.

I expected my escorts to take me to a bedroom, but the room they led me to seemed more like a study or an office. Was the Alyssum patriarch a scholar, like me? For a moment, I felt hopeful, but as my eyes adjusted to the dim light I realized the books on the walls were dusty and untouched. This was just for show.

"Ah, you made it."

I turned toward the voice; I had thought the room was empty. A man stood in shadow at the desk to the far wall. He was older than I expected, and he gave me a small smile as he looked me over.

I nodded at him, not sure what the protocol was for this particular situation. He stepped from behind the desk toward me and offered me a handleless cup of what looked like wine. I took a nervous sip, peering at him from over the rim of the cup. He was watching me with a strange sort of curiosity. Finally, he broke the silence.

"I've been intrigued by you ever since Skotia suggested you."

I sipped my wine again. "I can't imagine that I'd interest you, my lord."

"On the contrary." He picked up a bottle from the desk and poured a cup of wine for himself. "You're a fascinating case. How does an illiterate farm girl from a backwater planet become a Sith?"

"I was taught well.'

"No, no. You're talented. And dedicated. No talent, no matter now great, can be tempered unwillingly."

I stayed silent; I hadn't expected his admiration. I felt like some sort of rare specimen on display.

"Skotia has been a good friend of mine for many years. He's never found anyone like you, though. He says you're more than just a talented combatant, you're a brilliant scholar. He tells me your desire for knowledge is...insatiable."

I didn't like the way he looked at me when he said that.

"I assume you're receiving your promotion for this?"

I nodded. "Yes, I am."

"You should see this as an honor, as well. You're contributing to the continuation of our way of life. Ensuring we will continue to conquer."

"I may fail you," I said.

"You won't," he said, stepping closer to me. "You are a gifted young woman. You'll certainly pass on your talent. I have complete faith in you." And he took my chin in my hand, and kissed me.

I felt nothing - no fear, no shame, no disgust. It never occurred to me that this wasn't my choice. Nothing ever had been.

The Alyssum family was a major player in Imperial politics, and the current head of the noble house was Mirav Alyssum. After nearly twenty years of marriage to a Moff's daughter, he had no heir - which he saw as an opportunity to select the perfect mother for his child, someone carrying a set of genes that would ensure a perfect heir. His close associate suggested his apprentice, who was smart and talented and passably attractive. Mirav agreed, and Skotia sent me to him.

Skotia told me that if I provided Mirav Alyssum with an heir, I'd be promoted. Nineteen years old and a Lord of the Sith. The title didn't mean as much to me as the freedom did - freedom from Skotia and his bizarre machinations, his plots, his parading me around like a pet. He loved showing me off, the dirty farmer's daughter he had turned into a lady. I hated it, but I didn't hate him. Not yet.

My pregnancy made me sick and weak. I used my new status as a Sith Lord to order rare texts to my apartment on Dromund Kaas. I studied voraciously, losing myself in barely comprehensible ancient Sith, scribbling my notes in the margins of priceless tablets and swearing at the terrified slaves tasked to return them to whoever I'd borrowed them from. I liked the power that came from carrying the heir to a noble house. I could use it to learn more, to become stronger. Every time I felt my child kick inside of me, I felt stronger. And, although I fought it with all of my might, I became more and more attached to it.

I knew I'd have to give it up. I wasn't an Alyssum. I was Zash Vireya, an unlikely Sith Lord with no pedigree. My child would go to the Alyssum family, that was the agreement. I'd said it was fine, that I could bear a child and give it away, I didn't care. I cared about my books, and my research. A child would only get in the way. I wouldn't let myself love it, or be attached to it. I thought I could do it, but every day was harder and harder. Every day I dreaded the birth of my child, because then she would be gone and I'd never see her again.

Nine months after our first meeting, I was brought to Mirav's office again. This time, I was the one making the delivery.

I handed him our daughter, wrapped in a silk blanket, my whole body heavy with sadness. He took the blonde-haired baby in his arms and smiled, but the smile wasn't warm or fatherly at all. I felt anger bubble up inside of me.

"Did you choose a name for her?" I asked him.

"Jacea," he said, looking at the baby's sleeping face.

I wanted to scream. It was a stupid, common, trendy name. I'd met two other acolytes named Jacea already, and the name was only gaining in popularity. It was hard enough to lose my daughter like this, but to have her given such a terrible name aroused such a terrible rage in me, I could hardly stand it. Somehow, I found myself murmuring, "She should have a more distinctive name."

"Oh? And you have an idea?" Mirav looked at me, a mixture of amused and curious. I didn't meet his gaze.

"Latula," I said quietly.

"Latula. Interesting name. What does it mean?"

"I don't know," I said, my voice barely audible.

Mirav nodded slightly. "It's a good name. You gave her to me, so you should choose her name."

I rested my eyes on the baby - on Latula - and blinked away tears. Crying was unbecoming of a Sith Lord.

"You can rest assured, Latula will be safe and happy. You have my house's gratitude for your service." Mirav held the baby close as his servants started to guide me away.

I could have blamed Mirav, but I didn't. After all, he'd only done what he'd been told I was all right with. No, this wasn't his fault. It was someone else's.

How many times had Skotia used me in his machinations? How many times had he used me to gain status? How many times had he called me to him in the night, claimed he was preparing me for something like this? He had known. He had always known. From the moment he took me from the burned-out farmhouse I'd been born in, he'd planned to use me like this. I hated him, I hated him more than I had ever hated anyone, not just for forcing me to give up my innocence both to him and to the old Alyssum man, but for knowing all along that eventually he'd make me give up my child.

As I was marched through the halls of the Alyssum manor, I wondered if Mirav knew I had lied to him. I knew exactly what it meant, the ancient Sith word I had made into my daughter's name. It was the one thing I would hold close over the years to come, until I had my revenge on my master.

"Latula" meant "justice".

The next week passed by fairly quickly and quietly. There were no more night time incursions around the base. Voslic had not felt the other presence that he had felt that night. Havoc was careful about what it did however; never knew who could be watching.

The squad was able to settle down into somewhat of a routine. Each morning they would gather for PT, grab chow, then download the training requests. They were always from the same two units but training was training. Each member of Havoc took their skills and abilities and would train with the units in those abilities. As the teams became more proficient, Voslic began to think that a field exercise would be in order.

Voslic was now also in a perfect spot to champion his idea about taking the two training units to the field. Since his talk with the base commander, Voslic had been invited to sit in on the daily staff meeting that was held with the commander and the subordinate units on the base. Voslic thought to himself more than once that these meetings were nothing but a boondoggle, but if it drew some attention away from him by attending, then they could boondoggle away.

If there was one thing that concerned him the most, it wasn’t the meetings or the strange happenings on the base. It was the fact that he was being secretive with his Marines, even more so with Elara. He was still looking for angles. He had Vik out every night playing cards with whoever would let him in a game. Yuun was busy in his off time running scans and comms checks with every piece of gear he knew. He had Aric talking to the lower ranking officers, the ones that would talk to him as well as Elara talking to the medical people she dealt with. All that info was discussed during their PT sessions, with the exception of anything Voslic had heard or was doing.

Voslic had decided on a course of action and as much as disliked what he was doing, he was determined to see it through. So it was during the staff meeting on the last day of the week when his turn came speak, he voiced his progress report as far as training went. He then went on to request permission to take the two units to the field on a training op. The two units would operate separate from each other as aggressors with members of his team accompanying each unit as advisors.

The base commandant seemed to consider this for a moment before speaking. “Major, I don’t think that taking those units to the field at this point would be advisable. Why don’t we….” His personal comm link interrupted him. He glanced at the comm link annoyingly but grabbed the link and stood up. “Excuse me moment gentlemen, I need to take this.”

The men gathered around the table looked at each other. The confused looks told Voslic this was not normal. No one else on the planet outranked him, yet he grabbed the call like it was from a superior. Voslic noticed that from where he was sitting he could see through the half closed office door the colonel had entered. He seemed to be doing a lot of listening and giving only short replies. He glanced back into the conference room toward Voslic more than once. Voslic saw him nod once then put the comm link in his pocket. Voslic busied himself with some papers in front of him.

The colonel came back into the conference room and seated himself. After a long minute, he faced Voslic. “Voslic? How long would have them in the field?”

Voslic hoped he had been able to hide the shock that he felt. He was in the process of getting shot down and now he was being granted just the thing he wanted. “Had to do with that call.” He thought to himself. Then to the colonel he replied. “I’d like at least a week, maybe more.”

“No more than ten standard days Voslic.”

“Aye aye sir.”

The colonel stood abruptly. “Gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned.” With that he went back to his office closing the door behind him. He left a confused staff in his wake. Voslic left just as quickly and made his way back to Havoc’s barracks.

The rest of his team had just arrived back from their training exercises with the 124th Rangers and the 3rd RID. Voslic hustled through the hatch and called them all forward to the common area near the front of the barracks. There he explained his plans to take the 124th and the 3rd to the field. It was when he finished his outline that things with the unit went sideways.

Aric, who had been fairly patient to that point, lost it. “Are you serious? After all the **** that has gone on around here and you want to go on a ten day training op? Have you lost your mind or are you getting too cozy with that half-wit fort commandant?”

“What?” Voslic exploded.

Before he could say anything else Tanno sounded off. “He’s right Skipper. We’ve been working with these guys during the day and pumping them for information at night. We’ve fed you every bit of intel we’ve learned but you run off to these staff meetings and don’t tell us diddly-****.”

“Yuun is afraid he agrees with them Major.”

“You have been awfully tight lipped about what happens at the HQs building.” Elara spoke softly from behind him.

Voslic had had enough.

“ATTEN-HUT! You will fall out in five minutes in PT gear, formed and ready to run. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!”

They had gone too far. Each member of Havoc knew that now and they figured now they were going to pay.

Six minutes later, Voslic led them out the gate of the fort and down toward a now familiar beach. He set a grueling pace as they headed down a path that would lead them to the beach. As soon as their feet hit sand, he led them to the right and down to the water’s edge. They ran until the beach ended at the face of cliff. There the little bit of surf there would drown out any conversation they had. But Voslic was still too aggravated for conversation.

Voslic maneuvered the squad around so that when he stopped and faced them, they would be looking at the cliff. Voslic did not put them at ease but left them locked at attention before him. He immediately took four steps and was face to face with Aric.

“Nice call Captain.” He started. “With the force knows who’s listening in you want to go spouting off like that? I have to ask Captain, who has REALLY lost their mind?”

“Sir, I..” Was all Aric could mutter toward an apology.

“SHUT IT CAPTAIN! Now.”

Voslic then turned his attention on Vik. He stepped around Aric to where Vik stood in the little formation. He began to circle around the Weequay. “And you. You of all people in this unit have the balls to question me? After some of the crazy **** you’ve pulled? Really?”

He passed in front of Vik and moved in front of Yuun. He said nothing to the Gand and only shook his head. He Moved back to the front of the formation and stopped in front of Elara. “Of all people, I thought you would at least trust me.” He stated flatly.

“Voslic, I do. But we need to know what’s going on.”

“Elara, I needed the intel yall gathered to be honest and unbiased without having what I might say cloud or color what you were hearing. Do you think it’s been easy for me? I’ve wanted to discuss everything but if I said something you might would have put that spin on something you gathered.”

Voslic shook his head and took a step back. “At ease. Here’s what’s going on.”

The run back to the fort was an easier pace than the one they left with. Once back at the barracks, Voslic gave them each assignments to accomplish over the next hour to prepare them and the 124th and 3rd RID for the field. Jorgen was to liais with the command staff from the two units and prep them for the deployment. Yuun was assigned to get the comms checked and working with all three groups. Elara would of course get with her medical counterparts and ensure they were ready.

Voslic dismissed the squad and they fell out back to barracks to make preparations. All but Tanno, who stood there looking a little confused and leary. “OK Boss, what gives? I know you have something for me to do. What is it?”

“Yeah Tanno. Supply. Make sure we have all the simulator packs for the blasters we need.”

Tanno’s brow knitted. “That’s all?”

Voslic smiled. “That’s all.” He replied as he handed Vik a folded piece of paper.

Tanno opened up the note and read it grinned viscously. “Aye aye Sir!”

___________________________________________________

The colonel stood watching a holo-recording of Havoc as they broke formation after their run. "I'm not sure it's best to let him field that training op."

From the corner of the room came a tittering of laughter. "It's perfect. Just absolutely delicious."

"But My Lord..."

"Colonel, don't you see. They'll be in the field, training. We can deploy my troops then."

"To what purpose?"

"To crush Havoc squad of course."

Don't much care for the way that came together but the rest I have in my head and should flow a little bit better than what I consider the admin side of this protion of the story.

@Yoshi: Glad you liked my warm fuzzy and festive pieces.....LOL, red wool sweaters.....now you got that idea in my head. Maybe next year! Yikes!!!! Poor Mako! I hope they can help her soon and find Vik!! The suspense is just killing me!!

@Bright: Who was Zenith kissing? Well, it was one of three possible people but I'm afraid you'll have to figure that one out.....process of elimination, between SFC and Tumblr, you know who it wasn't. I love the piece with Wynston and Liira Vodd.....I love Torguta and love the drawing Kabeone did for her! Also, I really like that short piece with Calline......I really wasn't a big fan of the Torian romance and loved your take on him. Maybe I'll like the romance better with your take in it......if that is who she is going to end up with.

@Kabeone: Awwww, Talos.....so cute and I often wondered how he survived the Inq crew!

@alaurin The BlasTech catalog part was super funny, but I would argue that Corso would find it a turn on

@Elliotcat: I loved that piece and you've really brought a lot of depth to Zash......one of my favorite NPC's from the Inq storyline! I can't wait for more!!! I messaged you with my Tumblr, but it was from my tablet and that thing has been being naughty for me this past week! I am alaurin101 on Tumblr......not that I write anything worth reading, but eh....

@Marissalf: Oo.....loved that piece on Rissa. That was a lovely drawing that Kabeone did and you wrote a wonderful story to go with it! Kinka and Vector always give me the warm fuzzies.

@sthrift: I am so glad you gave us another part.....I hate being in suspense, but yikes, what a cliffhanger there!! I can understand why Voslic was secretive but can see what that would do to his squad. Can't wait for more!

“How pissed do you think she’s going to be?” Corso asked the other occupant of the small cell.

“Oh, she’s going to be pretty hot,” Aric grunted from the narrow cot, wincing as he tried to sit up, “Somehow I don’t think this is what she had in mind this evening….although we did manage to create quite a distraction.” The large, tawny Cathar gingerly touched his jaw, feeling dried blood caked over the one side and a sharp hiss escaping before he could stop it, sneaky little bastard!

“You alright?”

“Not really,” Aric gritted, deciding to lay back down as pain shot through his side, “I feel like I was hit by a speeder……”

A soft barking roar came from the cell next to them, but Aric cut it off, “Not your fault buddy.”

“Damn right it isn’t,” Bella snapped, the redhead still fuming, “I can’t believe that moron…..”

“Do try to calm down a little, Captain,” Risha smirked, smoothing a wrinkle in her maroon gown, “We don’t need to draw any more attention than we already did. Besides, your pacing is starting to get Farm Boy all hot and bothered.”

Bella looked over at her husband, who in turn couldn’t help but stare at his curvy wife. Her dark green, off the shoulder satin gown was molded to her slender body and Corso caught a glimpse of creamy skin through the thigh high slit in the side every time she took a step. Her green eyes sparkled with amusement, their color matching her dress as she crooked her finger at him and sauntered over to the bars separating them, “Am I distracting you, darlin’?” she drawled, her voice caressing when he joined her.

“Always,” Corso smiled just before her full lips brushed his through the bars. She let a teasing fingertip drift down his chest, easily felt through the thin fabric of his dress shirt, then lower before finally stopping at his belt.

“I’ll pick up from there as soon as we’re out,” Bella promised, those lips that were just on his forming a wicked smile as she continued, “For now, you’re just going to have to make due with Jorgan for company.”

“Enough of that,” Aric chuckled, regretting it instantly as pain shot through his side again, “I really don’t want to be trapped in a cell with Corso in that state and I am definitely not going to snuggle.”

“Speaking of snuggling,” Risha called out, turning her gaze to the cell across the dimly lit hallway, “It’s awful quiet over there……”

“Yeah, what are you two doing over there?” Bella piped up, her green eyes squinting as she tried to see.

“Do you really want me to answer that question?” Tanno’s low gravelly voice chuckled.

“No,” Corso insisted, “That can stay between you and Akaavi…..thanks.”

Just then, a loud banging rang through the corridor, followed by the sound of clicking heels.

“Kark,” Aric grimaced again, trying again to sit up, hoping his rib cage was only bruised and not broken, “I really wanted more time to recover before she got here.” Then he saw a sparkle of blue, the dim light catching the sequins on the dress of the petite woman who’d appeared and despite the pain, he couldn’t help but smile at her, “Hi, honey…..”

“Oh, don’t you ‘hi honey’ me, bud!” Mallay hissed, her blue eyes glaring daggers at each of them in turn, “Ten minutes! Elara and I were gone ten minutes and……”

“Look, sis,” Bella interrupted, glaring right back, completely unintimidated by her younger sister, “It wasn’t our fault…..I swear!”

“Oh really?” Mallay raised a slender brow at her sister as she looked down at the report in front of her, “It says here that one Captain Belladonya Lauren-Riggs was responsible for assaulting a security guard and resisting arrest……is that a lie?”

“Well no,” Bella tried to defend herself, “but that was unfair……the fight had already started and I didn’t know he was a security guard.”

“It’s true, Mallay!” Risha insisted, “That wasn’t our fault.”

"What about the Pallos Organa getting a bottle of champagne broken over his head?” Mallay countered.

“Okay, that might have been me,” Risha admitted, “but mister touchy-feely ‘I’m the Duke’s nephew’ deserved what he got!”

“A simple no wasn’t enough?” Mallay asked wryly.

“No it wasn’t,” Bella defended her friend, “Risha told him more than once she wasn’t interested, but the drunk bastard didn’t seem to understand.”

“He did after that bottle hit him,” Risha snorted.

“Come on, sis, you remember what that guy was like……he was the same ******e that gave you crap when Havoc was here before,” Bella reminded Mallay, “In fact, I remember you telling me that you really had to fight the urge to break that jerk’s nose when he threatened you that last day.”

“I would have loved to see that,” Risha grinned.

“I’m glad this is so funny to you,” Mallay snapped, “Anyone care to explain why Pallos’ brother, Jarrod, is now in the med bay along with Guss?”

“He had an unfortunate run in…..” Bella snickered, and they could hear Tanno’s deep laugh from across the hall.

“I’d keep quiet if I were you, Vik,” Mallay called out, “You’re in enough trouble.”

“Hey, I paid for that stuff,” Tanno defended himself, “and they better return it.”

“That was confirmed and I have it in my purse,” Mallay replied, “However, I was referring to the incident involving one Lenn Teraan.”

“That wasn’t Vik’s fault, hon,” Aric sighed, desperately wishing his mate had a pain killer, but afraid to ask, “Teraan and I were having a little disagreement.”

“A little disagreement,” Mallay seethed, glancing at the file again, “You were heard telling him that you were going to rip out his throat……and your claws were out!”

“Aric was only trying to help, Mallay,” Corso spoke up, still irritated at seeing that man again. They’d helped the Teraan siblings the last time they were on Alderaan. The Teraans had left the planet soon after they did, but apparently, Len decided to return. “That smarmy jerk was hitting on Bella, despite her telling him several times she was married, and I was about to go after him with Torchy when Aric stopped me.”

“Teraan wasn’t exactly defenseless either,” Tanno added, “He acted like he was going to back off, then popped Jorgan in the jaw and I saw the pompous *** pull a blade while he was down. That’s when I knocked him out. His buddy tried to jump me, but Akaavi dealt with him.”

“They were all acting with no honor,” Akaavi’s deep voice insisted, “I’ve never cared for nobility and their sense of entitlement. Risha and Bella saying no should have been the end of it, but they wanted more and felt they deserved it. On top of that, they lacked the courage to even fight fair and tried to push all the blame on us.”

“Fair enough, but I still haven’t heard an explanation for Jarrod,” Mallay crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at her smirking sister, “Other than ‘he had an unfortunate run in.’ All it says here is that he ‘violently hit’ the champagne fountain.”

“Yeah,” Risha coughed, trying to hide her laughter as Bella erupted into a fit of giggling behind her, “That’s kinda right…….well, maybe not a run in per se.”

“More like he was thrown…..” Bella finally got out.

“Pretty hard come to think of it,” Risha nodded.

“Wait,” Mallay held her palm out, closing her eyes as she rubbed her temples, “You’re telling me Jarrod was thrown into the champagne fountain? By who?!”

Bowdaar softly barked, bowing his head.

“Don’t you dare feel bad about that!” Bella told her large friend, “after what he did!”

“What in the void did that man do to get thrown by a Wookiee?!” Mallay cried, her voice taking on a shrill tone that told Aric his mate was closely reaching her limit.

“After Risha hit Pallos, Jarrod grabbed her by the arm, yelling out that ‘this harlot’ attacked his brother,” Aric growled, “Bowdaar stepped between them and that idiot brought up a blaster and told ‘the walking carpet’ to back off.”

Mallay took several deep breaths, “Okay……now, what about Guss and why are you barely able to move, Aric?”

“Bowdaar saw the blaster as a threat to one of his crew, so he picked him up and was going to hurl him out the door when he stumbled over Pallos,” Corso answered, “So instead of going through the door, Jarrod was thrown into Guss, who was not enough to stop him and they kept going right into Aric before finally hitting the table with the fountain.”

“After everything settled, Jarrod and Guss, both unconscious, were pulled off Aric and taken to the med center,” Bella finished, “Corso and Tanno helped Aric up and we were all taken into custody.”

They heard the door open again and Mallay turned to walk over to the couple that came in. Aric watched his mate, thrilled that Bella talked her into wearing the backless gown. He couldn’t help but admire her creamy skin and the elaborate tattoo that concealed her scars and was disappointed that he wouldn’t get the chance to dance with her, something he’d looked forward to since that day back on Carrick when he saw her in that dress shop. He sighed, feeling guilty that what was supposed to be a quick mission followed by a wonderful evening dancing and holding his mate close, was now ruined. The sound of footsteps snapped him out of his reverie and he watched as Mallay returned with a guard.

“Balic and Elara smoothed things over,” Mallay told them as the guard began unlocking their cells, “You’re all free to leave. Needless to say, we won’t be attending anymore Organa functions in the future. We have an hour to pack our things and leave the palace. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go apologize to Duke Organa and let him know that the mission was completed…..then I get the wonderful task of contacting General Garza.”

“Then you and Elara were able to get everything….” Aric prodded, slowly getting up, thankful that at least that went well. He’d been worried with Bella and Risha being taken into custody that Mallay and Elara wouldn’t be able to finish.

“Yes,” Mallay nodded, her small triumphant smile not quite reaching her eyes, “Yuun confirmed that everything is active and receiving data. Luckily, we didn’t end up needing team two. The incident kept everyone distracted and Elara and I were able to sneak over to the guest wing.” Then she turned and left before he could reached her. He watched sadly as she walked through the door, her slow gait and slightly sagging shoulders speaking the disappointment she never would.

The group was quiet as they left the holding area. They took a back stairwell to their suites, quickly packed their belongings and left. Elara would be staying behind with Captain Cormac and she’d return to Coruscant with Guss once he was fit for travel. Tanno was going to stay with Akaavi in the crew quarters on Bella’s ship while Risha and Bowdaar would be returning on Mallay’s ship.

“Boy am I glad I’m not going to be on that ship,” Risha smirked next to Aric, pointing at the couples in front of them. Bella was wearing Corso’s evening jacket and her hands were blatantly wandering into Corso’s shirt. Aric knew the Mantellian was blushing as he stilled his wife’s other hand which was about to caress his backside. He grinned as he noticed that Corso and Bella weren’t the only couple taking advantage of the quiet, moonlit walk through the vast courtyard to the spaceport. Tanno and Akaavi were holding hands, barely able to take their eyes off one another.

Once again, Aric felt the bitter sting of guilt and disappointment, having hoped for some time alone in the moonlight with Mallay. Those emotions settled heavily in his chest as he remained silent. Mallay had been so excited when she and Elara went over to Bella’s suite to get ready with her, Akaavi, and Risha. When she returned so he could escort her to the ball, the smile on her face was near blinding in its radiance. They’d gotten through dinner, catching each other’s eye often, trading knowing smiles as they recalled the last time they were on Alderaan. While rescuing two noble ladies, Mallay had been injured, a concussion and dislocated shoulder. She was fighting Elara whenever the medic tried to pop her shoulder back in and wasn’t able to be drugged with her concussion. Aric found a way to help with that, something that ended up helping to fix more than her shoulder. He’d had eventually come clean about how he’d gotten her to relax soon after they’d had that first kiss.

When dinner was over, she leaned over to whisper in his ear, ‘when I get back, we dance, and later…….’ She’d purposely trailed off to leave him wondering and brushed his ear with her lips, then left. He was still surprised, and very pleased, by the passionate woman that lie beneth his usually shy, blushing mate. His body was burning with the thoughts running through his head as he caught a glimpse of her and Elara sneaking up the stairs to the family wing and he couldn’t wait to have his arms around her.

“Instead I ruined it by ending up in a karking cell…..” he muttered as they entered the hanger, not realizing he’d actually spoken aloud until he felt Risha’s hand on his arm.

“Hey,” she assured him, “She’ll get over it……she’s crazy about you. Mallay’s a smart woman, Aric, she knows none of this was your fault.”

Mallay was on the Holo with a seething General Garza when he, Risha, and Bowdaar boarded the ship.

“………never been this embarrassed! I think this is the first time that Spec Forces has been banned from attending future functions on any planet.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Mallay sighed, “I can assure you that I’ve reprimanded the Havoc members that were involved and it will be noted on their records. I do not feel that any further punishment is warranted since the primary attacks were NOT by our people.”

“I understand and agree, Major,” Garza nodded, her face softening a little when she saw how sad the young woman looked, “The actual mission was a success and I’ve already begun to receive data. Duke Organa is pleased with the results and assured me you handled the situation with remarkable poise and dignity. We can discuss this further when you’re back on Coruscant…..Garza out.”

Risha and Bowdaar headed to the crew quarters to get some sleep, Yuun joining them later. Aric went into the refresher to shower, wanting to get the dried blood and champagne off him. He showered quickly, careful with his movements despite his species’ rapid rate of healing kicking in. He dried, dressing in a pair of shorts and t-shirt before leaving the refresher. He quietly walked into the quarters he shared with Mallay, seeing her sitting on the bed still in her evening gown. She got up when she spotted him, heading over to the desk where she’s put the supplies she grabbed from the med bay.

Aric snaked his arm around her tiny waist, ignoring the pain in his side, “That can wait,” he whispered, gently nipping the side of her neck, just below her ear, his tongue teasing the little mole back there, “I’m so very sorry our evening was ruined. I wanted more than anything to hold you in my arms while we danced, to walk in the gardens under the moonlight and steal a kiss or two. My heart hurts that I disappointed you and I would do anything in the galaxy to put that radiant smile back on your beautiful face.”

“Oh, Aric,” she whispered, “I just wanted a special evening, but I’ll love you until the day I die even if we never get to dance at a fancy ball. It’s silly that I’m letting this bother me…….”

“It’s not silly, hon,” he assured her, carefully guiding the straps of her gown over her shoulders and down her arms, “I wanted that too and it bothers me just as much that we didn’t get it.”

“Aric, you’re injured…..we can’t…..” she tried to protest when his hands caressed her sides as he pushed the gown down until it pooled to the floor. Her protest died in a throaty moan as he nipped the back of her neck before turning her to face him.

“That wonderful sound you just made is worth any slight ache I might feel,” he assured her, his lips brushing hers before letting her go to remove his shirt and shorts. Then he picked her up, again ignoring the pain as he carried her to their bed, “and I want to hear it again……and again…..and again,” he growled, capturing her mouth with each pause.

This came about because on Tumblr with my weekly request for inspiration......Lesaberisa asked for hot and fuzzy with Bowdaar......it did diverge a bit from that, but hey, Bowdaar is in it!

He'd found her in a bar fight she had tried to avoid.

She took sheltered booths at cantinas when she could get them, and always set up with a weapon in sight. The attraction of a woman alone was still too much for some people. If she could fit into a flat chestplate and eat with a helmet on she'd do it. Failing that, well, sometimes she got visitors.

This one was handsome, as humans who didn't respect a 'leave me alone' field a parsec wide went. Dark-haired, light-eyed - hard to tell details in this light - dressed in something fashionable and a size too small.

He swaggered up, putting her in his shadow. "Hel-lo. Anyone sitting here? Mind if I do?"

She glared at him.

He didn't seem discouraged. Instead he swung into the booth opposite her and bobbed his head a little. "Nice night, eh? Music sucks, though."

She ignored him.

"What's the matter, sweetheart? Nexu got your tongue?"

She ignored him.

He rubbed at one of the table's many stains. "Kind of a dive, don't you think? I know a way nicer joint than this."

She glared at him.

He didn't seem discouraged. Instead he stood up again and circled around to attempt to loom over her. "Sugar," he said, "you're not being very polite."

She raised a hand and made a sharp dismissive shoo.

The overdone friendliness was gone now. "Now, what was that? Maybe you’d like to tell me what that’s supposed to mean."

She unfolded, slowly and deliberately, to her full height. She looked down at the man. The man was busy leering at her suddenly-nearby chest. "Move," she said, and tried to step through him.

He stayed blocking her way. "Not yet, we barely even–" She didn't let him finish. She planted a hand on his chest and shoved him to one side, sending him staggering.

"Whoa!" She saw now that the man had three associates crowded at the bar not far away. All three of them were turning around. "You, schutta! The hell was that for?"

"I don't care what it was for," said another, "nobody hits Steen like that."

The man by her table had recovered, and his smile was long gone. His friends started closing in.

Calline set about not letting them touch her.

With four it was tricky, but she sent one sprawling with a punch, kicked another off balance, absorbed the third one's swing with the light protection of her body armor. These guys weren't getting scared just by her taking martial arts forms. In fact they were mostly getting angry. She seized the hairy hand going for her blaster and broke the wrist with a crackling twist. If weapons came out this was going to get bad. She left the broken-wristed man to scramble away, whimpering. She kicked the original jerk hard enough to send him sprawling, turned just in time to get a faceful of knuckles, swung blind while she tried to shake off the impact.

It was a talent of hers, beating the tar out of people.

When the one she'd pushed back furthest came charging in, she sidestepped his attack and pitched him to the ground, giving his head one sharp kick. He rolled away, yelping. Two left. The next fist that came her way let her lead its bearer off balance and knock him off his feet. When he tried to grab her ankle she came down hard on his hand. She twisted the last man's arm up behind his back and heard his little whimper just before she got to serious use of force. She pulled the rank little man in, close enough to lean down to whisper in his ear. "Run."

When she let him go, he ran. With that she returned to her own table, dropped a credstick, and hurried for the other door. She wasn't hungry anymore.

Outside the sky was a grimy metallic tangle and the walls of the world were splashed with garish posters and gang signs. At least the air was marginally fresher out here. Nar Shaddaa was a pit, but there was never a shortage of work here for a cheap mercenary. Maybe it wasn’t the high adventure she’d dreamed of while she trained back home, but it was a living, and it gave her plenty of opportunities to hone her skills for greater things. She worked as she walked, undoing her coil of hair – a bunch had come loose in the fight – and tying things back up in a ponytail. Something wasn't quite right about it, though.

"Miss! Miss?"

She stopped and ground her teeth. What the hell was it with people today? She turned, slowly, hand on her blaster, and found a bald male Human holding her well-worn green helmet.

"Is this yours?" he said. "It was at your table."

Kindness? Weird. She reached out with her free hand and snatched it. "Thanks."

"Listen, I don't want to waste your time, but I saw your fighting style in there and I think if you're interested in a job we should talk sometime." He waved his holo.

Another job offer from a guy who had only just seen her? She snorted. "I don't dance."

"No. You fight. I respect that. If you shoot as well as you scrap, I think we can do business." He stashed the holo away again. "Name's Braden. I'm a bounty hunter. You're the one who took down Reed Droken, aren't you? I was hoping to catch you before you left town."

She nodded. Even when she did want to make conversation, fewer words meant less accent got through, which meant she was taken more seriously.

The – not bald, shaved – man met her eyes with his green Human ones. "Have you ever heard of the Great Hunt?"

@Yoshi:

Maybe it was being in Havoc Squad, or maybe it was being here, alone on the ground, but Tanno didn't feel that anymore.

There's something about this that I love. The idea that a jerk like Tanno Vik's personality changes based on the quality of folks he's spent his time around... I just dig that. I enjoyed that whole piece, the way you set up the battle, involved other people we hadn't read about before just briefly enough to make you feel the scale of the battle, was great. Then the follow up with him sitting in the tree, good stuff.

I loved the image of Ylenia. Very much like a old country, been around for a looooong time, nurse with her "Go. Shoo!" It made me crack a smile. I also liked how you framed the Smuggler's reliance on Corso. He's the first companion, and even if he gets relegated to the ship (Bowdaar? More like Bowdaawesome. Just sayin'), he's still the guy who had your back all the way to Nar Shadda. Looks like he's got his work cut out for him though. Gonna need all his tools AND talent to sway a Jedi.

... I never thought this phrase would leave my mouth. Aric Jorgan, you're the MAN! DAMN that was a great piece with Jorgan knowing exactly what to say and how to say it. Great job!

The part where Kira announces her intentions to intervene had me giggling. I could just see Jasin's face as the realization dawns on him.

You've managed to bring all these different classes together and interweave them into a great story that involves everyone. I'm really enjoying that. When Dha shows up and Torian takes off "hunting" Vik, it made me excited to see how that's going to turn out.

@Bright: Wow, Jora Mei. Evil, but not overtly so, which is always the most evilist evil to me. The contract was an awesome way to show that. The whole "sell your soul" image I got was right out of a Twilight Zone episode. Innocuous at first, but you just KNOW it's gonna end bad.

Wynston getting rejected? Say it ain't so! But then, when times are darkest does the answer present itself. I laughed at the picture in my head of Wynston dancing his way over to the tall girl, and her look when he saw her coming.

Calline's quietness is very charming, as is her eagerness to learn what she's involved in all the way. I like the looks of her from everyone else's PoV though, as it shows how she comes across to others, who have different motivations for being with her. I really liked the introduction of Braden in that setting too.

@Alaurin: Poor Jakob! Surrounded by evil girls who blackmail him all the time! I liked the anecdote about the science project. It's always the little things we don't remember that pop up when we least expect it to remind us of lessons learned.

“This seems like an awful lot of trouble just to get on a woman’s guest list……hope she’s worth it.”

She broke his nose! Of COURSE she's worth it!

“I think the three of us can handle her,” Aric replied in that acerbic tone that had the tendency to rattle both Tia and Kat’s nerves.

And right after being pro-Jorgan with Yoshi's piece, you bring me right back down to earth. The Tale of Two Jorgans. He can be such a jerk, and then turn around and be a decent Cathar being. I like the movements of this "shadow clan" and how they're an entire family. Makes for a good revenge tale.

I had to laugh at the exchange between Kat and Aric, especially regarding the flamethrower. I think I'm gonna root for those two to get together.

@Lesaberisa: *sniff* The Reaper of Balmorra would be proud. I think I've mentioned this before, but I really like the direction you're taking with your BH. History is written by the victors, but there's always another side, another viewpoint, to every conflict. Showing Amurri's early days, when she was constantly hounded and on the run, it makes you feel for that clan. The flashes of memories/feelings she shows for each of the fallen only helps to cement that. Great job.

We’d faced the Emperor together. By the Force, we’d faced Doc together.

HAHAHAH! Doc, the only evil that's worse than the Emperor himself. Beautiful!

"I hoped to ask your daughter to marry me...and to have your blessing."

 

I'm not sure who choked harder on that, him or me.

Ok, I love Ayrs, but this REALLY makes me like the dude. Putting aside his hatred for the Imps to ask Dorne's father for his permission? Christ, that's hard enough to do when you LIKE the guy! I think this, more so than anything I've read so far, speaks of who Ayrs is. And I dig that.

@Frauzet: The first time I played a Trooper, I actually was shocked they defected. All the clues were there, but I figured it was just the writers trying to push the story forward quickly to get you off that stupid rock. It's heart wrenching, to find your RL heroes aren't what their image inspired you to be. I think you caught that really well. Also, I love the back and forth between Giz and Corso. Giz is starting to grow on me, I gotta admit.

I liked the story about Rufuro/Ciner. the way Ciner manipulated him to get what he wanted, and then came out seeming like a decent guy, was a nice calculated move. Also good to see more Rufuro, poor guy.

@Kitar: Talos' inaftuation with the snowballs was priceless. Also, I thought that they were tossing them at Quinn was beautiful! Haha!

@Kabeone:

How someone like Talos managed to survive on a ship with no less than three Sith, an actual pirate, and a monster remains a mystery to me.

Haha! So true. I think it's that absolute love of his work that makes him kinda grow on you, like how he's rambling on with Quinn about his academy dissertation.

@Marissalf: That was beautiful. Kinka's desire to just get away from the grime and blood. It's hard to live with being something that deep down you really never wanted, but circumstances handed you. I loved the different PoV's as well, showing that she really is that breathtaking to everyone else, including Vector.

@Elliotcat: Wow. What a great spin on the whole Zash/Skotia conflict, and also, it explains why Zash seemed more lenient with her at the Academy than the others, and yet gave her harder and harder tasks, knowing she should live up to them. Awesome take on one of my favorite NPC's

@Sthrift: Ok, the way Voslic jumped them and made them run to the far beach? Great. Everything he had planned could've come crashing down putting everyone in jeopardy. What I really liked though was how after he read them the riot act, he told tem what was going on. A commander has to know how to keep the discipline, but still show respect to the subordinate's ideas/feelings. That's how you gain trust and respect, and that's more powerful than rank any day.

The golden blade of light cut through the assault droid like fresh butter, slicing it in half diagonally. The hooded figure whipped around, deflected two blaster bolts, and brought up a shield of dirt and rock to protect herself.

“Tharan! Get to Grommick! Keep the old man is safe!” She yelled over the din of blaster fire, as she impaled an assault droid with her dual bladed weapon and hurled several levitated rocks at another.

“What about you, Jedi?!” Tharan yelled back as he fired off two shots in the nearest assault droid’s head.

“The force will protect me; Grommick has only a rusty blaster rifle! Find him, and be careful!”

“As you wish! Holiday, I require your assistance, please.” He said to nobody in particular as he tossed a med pack at the Jedi's feet.

A magenta hologram, in the form of a beautiful female, appeared behind him. “Oh my! Tharan darling, are you hurt?!”

“No, no I’m quite alright, but we need to find the old man, Grommick... and quickly, Holiday dear. As you can tell, he may be in grave danger.”

“Oh no!” T.he holographic image jumped at Tharan, shrinking rapidly from a rough 5’7” frame, down to six inches tall. She landed on his shoulder by his ear. “Go straight ahead, and turn right after you go through the door.”

“Wait!” There was a crash behind them as the last visible assault droid flew into a supply rack. The tall hooded female in an intricately decorated robe started forward towards the door. “There are more droids hiding in that room. Give me 15 seconds to engage them and get their attention, then run through and find Grommick.”

The Jedi flew into the next room like a blur

"Well Holiday my dear, shall we?" He said as soon as he heard the commotion.

"Of course! Don’t forget to engage your stealth generator, Tharan my love."

*******************************************************

The Jedi entered the last room, saber ignited from both ends. She’d been through three rooms and 12 droids, by her count. Czerka wouldn’t be put out by the cost, but hopefully, a show of dominating force would make them think twice about bothering this man again.

“Doubtful, but one can hope,” the hooded female whispered.

Leksende was a psychopath. He craved the feeling of godlike power he got from holding his victim’s existence in his hands, then toying with them. When he was done, he would choose if that person was worthy of life or not. Usually, they weren't.

It had been her experience that the Sith were not always the biggest monsters in the galaxy.

She made a mental note to instruct Fawler to provide competent protection to the old man when she was through here.

As she entered the room, a large quadrupedal frontline assault droid came to life at the far end of the room. A standard humanoid droid came at her from the left, but she quickly dispatched it with a flying boulder.

I cannot be defeated, Leksende. Not today. The force is with me. She called up a wall of debris to help protect her, then wrenched the four legged battle droid from its position telekinetically, and slammed it down in front of her.

Without missing a beat, the droid opened fire with its over-sized arm cannons. She deflected the bolts back into the metal monster, but the anti-energy shielding it was covered in did a fine job of dispersing them.

She ducked and dodged, coming up under the swinging mechanical arm, and slicing it off at the unshielded joint.

I'll need to attack the articulation points if I plan on surviving this. It's too well armored for a head to head fight.

The droid launched a barrage of missiles that decimated her shield generator, the debris wall she was using to help deflect blows, and sent her flying. She slammed into a parts rack, and then hit the floor.

So that’s what that feels like, she mused as she shook her head, and quickly got to her feet. She cartwheeled over a blaster volley and hit the ground running.

As she closed in on the battle droid, she dropped to her knees, momentum causing her to slide forward underneath the droid’s chassis and in between the legs. She held her lightsaber up, both ends ignited, slicing through the unshielded leg joints. The droid fell to the ground, unable to turn around to face her now.

The Jedi quickly sprang to her feet and with all her considerable might, jammed her saber through the droid’s main body, destroying it. Out of breath and victorious, she spent a few moments on returning strength and calm to her person.

The Shadows walked a fine line between the light and dark. Regaining one's balance in the force after an encounter was integral to avoiding the path of the Sith.

She tapped the comlink in her ear as she began to walk down the hallway, “Tharan, how is Grommick?”

******************************************************

“Everything. They destroyed my farm, my house… everything.” The old man looked confused and saddened.

No sooner had the Jedi shown up than Leksende had appeared on the holocom, mixing threats with attempts at playboy-like sophistication.

“Well, that was exciting. I'm disappointed I didn't get to fry you, but I'll settle for your asphyxiation instead."

“This isn’t over, Leksende. You can still give up and be taken into custody peacefully” , the Jedi had said.

“No, I don’t think so. You see, I’m two miles above you in orbit, in a ship built for war. The exploding of the missiles I’ve just launched will be the last sound you hear… other than your last gasps of breath as the air runs out in your little hole. I’d love to stay and watch, but I have a world destroying weapon to find before that idiot Fawler does. Enjoy being buried alive, my friends. Enjoy.”

Now here they stood, in Grommick’s bunker, blocked off from the world. The only illumination coming from the emergency lights on the walls.

“Jedi,” Tharan said pulling her aside and glancing back at the old man, “This doesn't bode well. I can’t reach Holiday. Even if she did alert the authorities, by the time they dig us out, it would be too late. The old man is in a state, so it doesn’t seem like he’ll be of any help to our current predicament. Ideas?”

The tall, raven haired woman looked over at Grommick. “Let me try something.”

She approached the old man and took him by the shoulders, “Grommick, you seem more worried about your moisture farm than your life. Is there something you know that will help us out of this situation?” she asked, radiating calm in waves that enveloped the former Czerka guard.

He blinked a few times, and then looked up at her, clarity filling his eyes.

“Y-yes… yes, I do. He's wrong... that Czerka boy is wrong! We'll be fine! First though, " the old man handed her a small paper with three sets of coordinates, "here. This is a cache of Czerka documents that I buried all over the desert, in case something like this ever happened."

She looked at the old man sadly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to involve you with Czerka again."

"Bah! You heard the man! Czerka wants me dead now, and I owe them nothing! Now, there's an escape tunnel I planned in when I built this place. It'll take you to the surface."

"You can't just stay here. It's not safe." The Jedi said as she handed the coordinates to Tharan.

Grommick opened the secret door to the escape tunnel, "Go on. I need to rest awhile. I'll leave when I know they're not watching the farm. All I ask is that you don't let them get away with destroying my land!" His visage was melancholy, "The farm... It's all I had left..."

********************

They emerged from the underground tunnel into the daylight. They were behind Grommick's farm now, or what remained of it.

As the Jedi surveyed the devastation, she focused herself, attempting to subdue her anger at the injustice of it.

She made another mental note. On top of first class protection, Grommick would need compensation. It was the least they could do after involving him in this.

"Come Tharan, we need to get those documents and get them to Fawler. Then we need to stop Leksende before he gets to the Czerka facility."

"Jedi, did I mention I'm a pacifist?" He asked as they began walking.

"Several times, but today Tharan..."

She stopped, and again looked out over the smoking ruins of a tired, lonely old man's farm.

"... today, you're not."

He didn't care.

That's what he told himself, laying there as the sun over head slowly descended into sullen darkness. See, he snorted. Even the sun goes away and leaves you all alone. With nothing. Not even a bit of warmth you might call your own.

He hung his head down, sniffing back the thick snot that had run down from his nose when he was screaming the loudest. His stomach burned madly. Like it was on fire, like the sun had drifted down from the sky and settled right there on the skin that covered his belly. Just above his hip. He pressed both his hands against the bleeding mess, bit back a whimpering moan of pain as he tried yet again to squelch the steadily dripping blood from the cuts.

What a joke. He was all carved up, like some bleating animal, a beast of burden. And all because he'd insisted the stupid bit of fabric was his own. "Yours? Are you serious? Nothing is yours! Because you're nothing, you stupid waste of flesh and bone!" You'll remember it, they'd told him. When they held him down, when they jerked his tunic and thin undershirt up and out of the way … when they started cutting.

He didn't look down, didn't try to catch sight of the lettering they'd put into his skin. What difference did it make, after all. Wasn't anything that came from him worth that much to anyone at all. Not even his blood. He only buried his face into the rough remnants of his pitifully thin tunic against the turn of his lanky shoulder, trying to clear his face of the spittle and mucous that made most of his face warmly wet. He denied the tears.

Crying was so much a waste of time, he thought. Didn't stop anything or anyone, when you cried. Half the time, it just made them more intent on whatever hurt or indignity they were forcing on you. When you cried, they knew it was working. That the pain and distress was breaking you. Better to laugh, cause then you beat them at their own stupid game. Showed them you weren't bowed down or bowled over. Laughing was how you won against them.

He'd rather laugh. Then they'd know he didn't care!

The blood on his stomach was drying. He sighed as he glanced down towards the damage. So quickly, because he didn't want to see what marks they'd made on his skin. He'd bled like mad for the first hour after they cut him with the red-hot blade. He had huddled against a broken rock wall after they dropped him back down onto the ground, just left him there to bleed and cry, moaning intermittently. The slave warden laughed when he jerked his legs back towards his stomach, curling into a ball as the pain flashed and burned and roiled, until he jerked his head to the side and vomited in a seamless rush against the dusty ground. That made the warden laugh even harder, "An 'M' … so every time you see it, you'll remember. No such thing as 'yours'. There's only 'mine'. Cause that's all you are! Just a thing for someone else to call 'mine'!" He'd cradled the bleeding wounds as the three men knelt over him, watching through great big blue eyes as they slowly, steadily shredded the brief bit of cloth he always tied around his skinny wrist.

Just a cloth. Some small bit of fabric he'd torn off Cam's shirt when they were ripping her away from him. A worthless piece of torn, ragged cloth. "See," they continued mocking him. "Not worth anything, not even a dirty triangle of filthy fabric." They'd torn it apart, scattering the threads all around his head and face, so that the shredded remnants were left stuck to the wet snot running down over his chin by then.

Now, he was all alone. Even the sun's light was running away, leaving him behind. Alone.

His breath hitched. Stopped. He tried drawing in another breath. But it caught against his chest, froze there. He hiccupped, coughed. He began wheezing, writhing against the dusty surface of the ground as he grew even more desperate. Until finally … finally air rushed into his lungs again. A single breath. Then another. And the attack passed, leaving him gasping there against the hard rock that pressed hurtfully into the skin of his back.

He looked down this time, whimpering as he pulled against the part of his shirt that covered the mess on his stomach. It had stuck there, though, and pulling against the fabric just made more blood wash down over his lower abdomen. He stopped, rolling his head away to stare out over the increasing dark that covered the heavy silence of the pens. He used to wonder why they penned the slaves inside cages, when running out over the ruins was so much worse. Stupid slaves ran. Because the dark hid huge monsters, beasts driven mad by the magics the Sith used and left behind there in the broken rocks and stones of the place. Horrible things that loved to snack on even the brief bones and skin of the most foolish slaves.

But tonight … tonight he wondered if those were the stupid ones. How much more stupid was it, to stay? To sit there, bleeding, knowing tomorrow wouldn't be any better. That the sun would come up and he'd only be bleeding again. From some other wound, perhaps. Another cut, a slash of a whip or cudgel. Something worse, even. Why keep fighting? Not like anyone cared.

"Gaib? You there, Gaib?" Shan's face suddenly loomed in front of him. Big, round eyes, pale-colored. In the light of the day they were gray. But in the dark, the orbs were large and white-looking. At least that's how they looked to him. Shadows were muted things, grays and whites. Wasn't hard for him to see people or animals moving around, even in the dark. Only distance really obscured things from his sight. Not that he made it a point to tell anyone that, either.

Shan was muttering, though. "Ah, dang. Gaib? You're bleeding like some stuck animal we might string up for eating there in the back of the pen."

Gaibriel smiled slowly. Because he didn't really care, mind you. "Not good enough for eating, either. That's how plain worthless I am, heh?"

Shan shook his head, reaching down to move Gaib's hands out of the way. So he could better discern the damage. "Don't. Just let me see, so we can get you fixed."

"Can't fix it. It'll stay. Forever." He swung his head, ignoring Shan as the young man went about replacing the dirty length of tunic he'd pressed against the cuts with some semblance of clean cloth. As clean as a pen filled with slaves could manage to keep, anyway. In the dark, the cloth gleamed bright white. But Gaibriel ignored the promise of healing.

Because he didn't care, he thought. He stayed sullenly silent every step, as Shan pretty much carried him back towards the cage where they normally huddled through the night. As safe as could be expected from the beasts that trundled out when the light fled. Old man Kinzer hummed with approval when the two youngsters appeared in the pen's doorway, even. "Found 'im, huh, Shan? Good on you."

The small group of men and boys gathered around Gaibriel as they lay him down there in the center of the brief space. Kinzer inclined his head, silently ordering one of the others to seek out something close to a medicine-giver. In the camps, that was usually one of those slaves most inclined to dole out dust and spice. But some of them were good at fixing torn up flesh and broken bones, too. Gaib even followed them around, watching, listening.

Now he didn't care. Not if they fixed him. Not even if they refused.

Kinzer started talking to him, but Gaibriel only half-listened. "We saw that son of a ***** start in on you, Gaib. He was itching to do damage to someone, anyway. Heard tell that Miloh refused his request to visit one of the local towns, 'for personal time', he called it." Kinzer sighed loudly, "That means some fluff in the town stayed in one piece, while Ostin stayed here to take his frustrations out on you, instead."

"Not so bad a thing, that." Yirry snarled. "Gaib's young, he'll heal. Last time Ostin got a hold of a female in town, she ended up choking to death on her own blood, she was beaten so badly."

Gaibriel didn't miss Kinzer's harsh expression as he looked up from the deep red cuts against Gaibriel's stomach. Four lines, slashed hard into the soft flesh, there. Blood was still oozing thickly from the injury. How much blood could one half-starved slave boy contain in his body, Gaib wondered bemusedly as he looked, watching the drops of blood sliding down along his skinny hip. Kinzer snorted, "Shut up, Yirry. That's no comfort to Gaib, here."

But Yirry was right. At least that's what Gaibriel would typically say, with surprising sagacity that broke through with every laugh and joke. But he stayed quiet, only lay there, uncaring as he stared off and away from the gathered slaves. Kinzer frowned as he finally noted the unusual stillness that marked Gaib's expression. As if he'd never spoken a word in his life, even. He very nearly confronted Gaibriel, as if demanding he say something witty and clever might work some miracle. But then there was some minor commotion at the nearby doorway, a small rush as the closest thing to a healer that could be found in the pens came tumbling inside right then.

Kinzer scowled as he considered the snuffling figure, the oldster's dust-stained upper lip obvious even in the low light of the dang pen. "Where's Kevan?"

"Dead. Fool tried to save one of the littler ones, out there in the southern ends of the ruins. Didn't even manage that much before whatever-it-was ate him, too." Pyle actually chuckled as he shook his head telling the story. Kinzer's frown deepened. He glanced down towards the still silent figure of their pen's youngest member. Gaib was their own "littler one", and the men in the pen watched over him zealously. As if protecting or providing for Gaibriel made up for something, like he belonged to them. A heavy silence fell over the group, several of them shuffling uncomfortably as they waited for Kinzer to make a decision.

Kinzer might have, even then, sent Pyle away. Because he certainly didn't want him handling the boy. Gaibriel was only weeks from turning thirteen, although you wouldn't know it. Malnourished the way so many of the younger ones were, it would prove a miracle if his body actually lengthened into the flush of healthy adulthood. The boy needed food, loads of it. Solid, hot nourishment, to fuel his bones growing, his muscles firming. He certainly didn't need to be laying there on the ground, losing the last bit of his hope. Just like he was losing so much of his blood as it dripped down onto the damn dirt he was laying on.

Kinzer snarled towards Yirry suddenly, "Get some clean blankets for him to lay on, at least. Bad enough he'll have to last through the cauterizing, now. But the bleeding's got to stop."

Pyle shrugged as the men jumped to obey Kinzer's directions. "Won't hurt him too much, once we get some medicine in 'im."

Gaibriel turned his head, looking up at Kinzer as the old man's face tightened. He tried to tell him, to say he didn't care. It hurt enough already, what was a little more pain? Or a lot, even. It simply didn't matter. But Kinzer sighed as he jerked his head, agreeing. And suddenly Pyle leaned over him, his dirty-looking face filling his vision.

"Breathe, boy. Deeply. Take it all in, and nothing will hurt for a good long while."

Gaib felt something hard pressed against his nose. He coughed, sniffed in a startled gasp, coughed some more. Warmth spread through him, all through him. No pain, no worry. It all slid away in a wash of sweet euphoria. Like warm golden light filling him up inside. It all just … went away. He didn't even feel it, when they methodically burned the edges of each long, cruel cut closed.

He honestly didn't care anymore what they did to him.

@Bright: Loved the action bit for Calline and a great way to bring Braden into the picture. Nicely done!

@alaurin, ah, the Bowdaar throw! This is what happens when friendly fire is allowed…and poor Mallay, turning her back for just a few minutes! This is too straight-shooting a group to fit in well on Alderaan.

@Kabeone: Yay!! Glad you liked it.....and yeah, I wasn't too sure how to write hot fuzzies for Bowdaar......so I gave them to Mallay/Jorgan and some to Bella/Corso! I like warm fuzzies too......probably why so much of my stuff is warm and fuzzy (probably too much....I really should write more serious, action, drama stuff).

@DarthSillyMonkey: Oo......Holiday stuff! I like your JC and that take on the Tattooine planetary quest. Theran tends to get on my nerves a little, but your JC dealt with him nicely.

@Alaurin: Poor Jakob! Surrounded by evil girls who blackmail him all the time! I liked the anecdote about the science project. It's always the little things we don't remember that pop up when we least expect it to remind us of lessons learned.

I had to laugh at the exchange between Kat and Aric, especially regarding the flamethrower. I think I'm gonna root for those two to get together

@Phyreblade: Welcome!!! This thread is open to anyone who wants to share their work.....hell, they let me post my stuff!!! Bright posts a new prompt every week, but you can always just pick one from the list. That was a very nice piece......I can't begin to imagine how Gaibriel felt and you did such a wonderful job describing how he was feeling and what he was going through. I hope to see more!

The young Jedi Knight knew the mission was in serious trouble when the Emperor’s Wrath, the huge Sith she’d just beaten, gave her a knowing look as he got up, moving to stand next to the Emperor. Master Tol Braga stepped forward and spoke to the Emperor, telling him it was over, he was surrounded and would be given the chance to return to the Light. The Emperor himself simply stood and the next thing Ros knew, lightning was streaming from him to her and the other three Jedi Masters as the Emperor’s cold laughter echoed through the room.

Never one to give up, Ros kept advancing while the other three dropped to their knees, writhing and shrieking in pain, her twin blue sabers deflecting most of the lightning. However, with the other three subdued, the Emperor turned his full attention to her and Ros felt her body burning as the lightning crackled over her body. She tried to press on, refusing to voice her pain, refusing to give up, but then her very breath was stolen by the agony of what felt like a thousand needles stabbing through her head. Ros sank to her knees while cold, cruel laughter echoed in her mind as the thick, smoky darkness invaded it, drowning out the calm, pure light.

“You are mine now pathetic little Jedi,” was the last thing she heard before losing consciousness.

She was floating in thick, warm, sticky liquid. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. She could feel…...pain. She was injured…...healing…...where? Where am I?

“you’re in the Emperor’s Fortress,” a familiar voice whispered.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Ros,” her father’s voice answered in her mind, “I’m here.”

Ros could feel the darkness all around her, but somehow she was still filled with light and her mind was her own. It was holding the heavy darkness away for the moment. She knew somehow that it was only temporary…..that the light would once again be snuffed out. Memories surfaced….the Emperor knew everything. He knew that they were coming, it was all a game. He defeated them, taking over their minds…..

“How are you here?”

“Your old Master figured out a way to help,” her father answered.

“Master Orgus?”

“Yes, my young friend,” Orgus replied, “but I’m afraid it's only temporary for now. While your body is at rest, we were able to ward off the Emperor’s control. He weakens his hold on your mind when you're sleeping. When you wake, he'll be back in full force and the darkness will once again take over you.”

“What can I do to stop that?”

“Nothing for now,” Orgus explained, “The Emperor is powerful, but not unbeatable. You are much stronger than he was expecting and it took a lot out of him to take over your mind. Even after he did, he still has to fight you to retain it…...he rests when you do. That is to your advantage…...use that time to gather strength in the Light. Your father and I will be here to help you when we can.”

“How did you know?”

“I am always with you girls and your mother when you need me,” her father explained, “and I knew you were worried about this mission. I’ve been with you since you were talking with Sergeant Rusk in the cockpit the morning before the assault.”

“I felt the shift in the force,” Orgus told her, “and when I came to you, I sensed your father’s presence. Together, we were able to reach you as soon as the Emperor’s control slackened a little.”

Suddenly, Ros felt the heavy darkness pushing at her, "what's happening?"

"They are waking you," Orgus told her, "We have to go now, but we'll be back when you sleep again."

"Until then," her father assured her, "We'll be watching over you, my daughter."

"Thank you, Daddy," Knowing her father and former master were with her in the force was enough to give her the strength to let the darkness come. She smiled, recalling her mother’s words when they first arrived on Dantooine, missing their father….we are strong, my girls, the love of family makes us stronger.

"Just remember, no matter what happens," Orgus told her gently, "You are a good soul and not responsible for what the Emperor forces you to do while he controls your mind."

Ros felt the darkness once again invading her mind, choking off the light. It was surprisingly warm....an addicting headiness to it that was hard to resist, but instinct made her try. I'm a Jedi....must resist the darkness....can't give in..

"You can and will!"The Emperor's cold voice filled her mind....a command she was powerless to resist and as the Light left her, Ros could no longer remember why she wanted to.

She heard triumphant laughter in her mind as her body was lifted out of the kolto tank,"Its time for you to learn what it means to be Sith. Lord Scourge will get you started."

The mask was removed from her face and Ros opened her eyes to see the Emperor's Wrath towering over her.

"Are you ready to begin?" the huge Sigh asked as he watched the medic rinse the kolto off the young woman who had given the Emperor so much trouble. He'd finally taken over the Jedi's strong mind, but she fought it for a long time and the Emperor had to focus his undivided attention on her for days. He finally left her mind when the medics sedated her in the kolto tank yesterday.

The smoky darkness was swirling through her....she could feel its enticing power just waiting to be unleashed. The Light was no more and Ros smiled at Lord Scourge, her once silver eyes glowing orange as they appraised him, "Yes, Master......I am ready."

@elliotcat, Oooh, Zash backstory! That’s a fascinating and heartbreaking bit of history for her, and I like it. Definitely makes sense why she'd be gunning for Skotia.

@sthirft, Something tells me Voslic’s note for Tanno will pack quite a punch for whomever’s on the receiving end of those supplies. This should be good.

@alaurin, Can I just say, now I have the image in my head of an angry Jorgan being snuggled by and sleeping — and completely oblivious — Corso. I would hate to be Mallay having to explain all that to Garza. Ouch.

The smoky darkness was swirling through her....she could feel its enticing power just waiting to be unleashed.

I just love this sentence. Very chilling for Ros.

@Bright, Calline taking down a whole mess of obnoxious thugs — excellent.! It was good to see how she got hooked up with Braden and the Great Hunt.

@DSM, Oooh a little love for the Consular, nice! Gotta say, I love reading your combat sequences. They’re so fluid and natural, and I like that there’s an obvious difference in the way you write a fight scene for a Jedi than one for, say, Drokk.

Also, much <3 for this:

"Jedi, did I mention I'm a pacifist?" He asked as they began walking.

 

"Several times, but today Tharan..."

 

She stopped, and again looked out over the smoking ruins of a tired, lonely old man's farm.

 

"... today, you're not."

@Phryeblade, Welcome! Gaib’s story is wrenching to read. Fantastic job conveying the hopelessness of a slave as well as the sense of community among those there with him. I hope you come back for more — I’d love to read more of this story!

@Frauzet - I really liked Nik and Giz' banter in your first piecel it really shows the contrast between a soldier and the...less-reputable smuggler, as well as looking at Nik's understandable pride in joining Havoc. As for Ciner/Rufuro's piece - "If the text was so important, why was it still in the tomb?" is a good question, but it also made me wonder if there's some Sith in charge of returning it to the tomb every night to 'replay the mission' time and again. I also liked Ciner's reflections on Sith society.

@Yoshi - Corso trying to control his...excitement..around Ylenia *snerk* And Kira's intervention *double snerks* I'm also glad to see a more...balanced? well-adjusted? Tanno in your stories...i'm going to be doing my own take on him because I feel like there's definitely a good amount of story potential for him that the game kind of wastes keeping him as just a thug-type. And then with the fight scene...snerk factor is off the charts And then brainwashed Mako...not so snerk

@Alaurin - "Turn's out she's really good with a flame thrower" - it's surprising how often you hear that in real life. Or maybe it's just me :rak_01:I think I mentioned it over on tumblr but I'm always glad to see more JC/Iresso fic too - it's not my favorite romance by any means, but it's still sweet and understated (and Iresso himself is a nice guy).

“Ten minutes! Elara and I were gone ten minutes and……” <- the eternal lament of wives/girlfriends everywhere.

As for your last piece - I mentioned it on tumblr, but the end of Act 2 and fallout in the JK story is an opportunity that Bioware missed, in my opinion - there's a lot of storytelling potential that gets pushed aside to give the knight room for more uber heroics in Act III; it would have been nice to reflect more on a darker time where the Knight doesn't do something amazing (quite the opposite, of course)

@TheStirge - That perspective on the Chiss is interesting - there *is* some crossover with Sith philosophy but there's the glaring problem of the Sith being inherently destructive and psychotic and what not.

As for character voices - most of the voice actors are close enough to what I imagine my characters to sound like. Ayrs is probably ont he more playful/light side of the male trooper voice acting, but probably deeper and more serious when the conversation or person he's talking to calls for it. Olympia (my consular) is probably the only one I think would sound noticably different, mainly because I find the consular voice acting really bad. The character I would say is spot on would be Amurri with the F!BH voice acting.

@Kitar: Yay, more Talos! And throwing snowballs at each other is definitely necessary.

@Bright - Oh, the famous Liira Vodd! And, like Kabe, I like Wynston's reflections on a series of rejections. For your BH piece, I like the 'eager young student' vibe Torian has, though still mixed with the sneakiness vis a vis Mando'a.I also really liked your introduction of Braden, who's basically simply inserted into the BH story without much of a second thought in-game (why is the BH going to him? Do they have back story? It's all very limited and leaves a lot for creative gap filling)

@DSM - Yay, Holiday Not a huge Tharan fan but she's adorable (in her own, odd, way). The last four lines of your piece are perfect (especially since I HATE when THaran says that.

@Phyreblade - Welcome to the topic Unfortunately for me, Marissalf stole what I was going to say (rude), but I would also echo her in saying I hope you come back to give us more of Gaibriel's story.

@marissalf - yay! Yay!! HAPPY KINKA!!! The fact she came up with the fabricated mission to have their romantic evening was cute, too.

@Elliotcat - I really love your Zash pieces; she's one of the best developed and most interesting NPCs/non companions in the game, and she gives off the impression there could have been a lot more to her if they wanted to tell more of her story (shame we'll probably never see it)

@sthrift -r eally loving your series of stories; the authentic military feel/tone to them, and the slow racheting up of the tension and drama as we head towards our villains' revealing their plans. Eagerly looking forward to the next bit

I really do want to keep the "Ayrs asks Elara's father for his blessing" story; it's quintessential Ayrs - brave, impulsive, romantic, perhaps not well-thought out... but....I have no idea how to make it work given the timeline. I'd imagine he'd be lucky to be discharged and it'd be far more likely he'd be tried for treason. I could 'cheat' to make it work - have him send the message from an 'untraceable' source or something - but that would be cheating of course. I'd like to keep it though, so I'm going to chew on it for awhile. Still have plenty of time in his actual topic, anyway.

Back to Nar Shaddaa. No matter how hard I tried to leave the place behind, it stayed one step ahead. Something it had in common with the hut’uuns that had hunted us in the name of the so-called Mandalore.

I had nothing now – what was left of my family had been left unburied on Dxun. A crime, I knew, but I had had no choice. I had only just barely managed to find Uncle Jicoln to ask about Andros Vryl, and now he was gone too – fading away into a life of hunting. A life as prey for the usurper’s dogs. I’d sold the Cin Vhetin for the credits I needed, exchanging its limited comforts for the economy of an aging Monreal patrol ship. I had named it Nasaade, after myself. I was nobody, just a shadow on the wall, coming for a man named Andros Vryl.

Jicoln hadn’t known much, just that he’d fought with Clan Itera during the war. He’d disappeared while in command of a convoy escort, back when we still had convoys. Everyone had assumed he’d died along with the rest of the convoy when nothing but debris was found where ten ships should have been. Now, it seemed like I needed to make him wish that had happened. I would make him squirm, then I would make him scream. I would do whatever was needed to find out when they’d replaced the blood in his veins with water. Then, once I had learned what had made him turn his coat, I would end him. After that…

After that, I did not know. We had never made plans when we had been together – plans were just there for reality to interfere with. Dreams were worse, dreams were just there to be crushed. I had no time for either, no place for them too. No family, no clan, no friends, no one to mourn my passing once a lucky shot or stab got past my armor and ended my existence.

Cuy ogir'olar, idiot.

What I might or might not do in a day, a week, or a month mattered not. I could only fight the battles before me, and hunt the enemies that were there to be found. Today, that would be Andros Vryl. Tomorrow could matter if it ever got here. If not, no point in wasting time on it now.

Uncle Jicoln didn’t know much about Clan Vryl – Andros was only a second generation Mando. Maybe that should have been the first sign something was wrong …maybe Jicoln should have known someone so knew could not possibly understand why we had had to take a stand. We should have realized there was more to him, Uncle Jicoln should have known…something.

Only, he hadn’t – none of us had. Somehow, that failing had ended in blood and death for those that least deserved it. This aruetii had brought down the best of what was left of the honorable Mandalorians. Had he been craftier, he would have lain low long enough to escape justice for his crimes. Fortunately, he was stupid and sloppy. Friends with more honor than fear of the pretender had traced his name to a series of gang-related crimes on Nar Shaddaa. By the time I’d gotten in system, the di’kut had even managed to get a significant bounty on his head.

I wasn’t licensed or anything, but Nar Shaddaa wasn’t a place for people that cared about that sort of thing. Whoever had put the bounty up was paying in Republic credits, too, which was useful. Didn’t have the chance to earn too many of those on the run in Hutt and Imperial space. Would be tricky to explain having them if I ended up dealing with the wrong sort of people. Tricky, but not impossible. Not like I cared much, anyway - there were worse ways to die than in battle against people like that.

I tracked Andros to his ‘estate’ in the Emerald District – the residents had named it in the hopes it would sound impressive to outsiders. Mainly, everyone else just laughed at them because they were just nouveau riche playing at being actual elites. Not that being an elite on Nar Shaddaa meant much. You were scum just as much as anyone else, just scum with money.

His place was a pretty generic apartment in a building called the Golden Fortune. Wasn’t sure if the name was meant to be a joke or not, but I laughed anyway. Plasteel walls made up to look like genuine Klatooine timber, overly elaborate trellises that were exactly the kind of thing someone trying too hard to look prosperous would buy. Didn’t surprise me. An aruetii like Andros Vryl was all about pretending to be something he wasn’t, this was just the latest example.

I went up the emergency stairs. Fewer people to run into, no questions to answer, no risks to be run. Vryl’s apartment was located on the third floor of the building, facing away toward the glittering lights of the nearby Star Cluster Casino. Rumor had it that a major crime lord had once used the casino as a meeting place, but that didn’t seem to stop the di’kuts like Vryl from moving in. View looked alright as I made my way up the winding steps, but having a nice view on Nar Shaddaa was like saying you had the cleanest toilet stall at a Hutt country club.

Scanner showed only two people in his apartment when I got to the door; female and small kid. I grimaced – I wasn’t here to hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it. Didn’t have a choice, though - if I spooked him now, Andros would go to ground and I might never find him again. Least not as Andros Vryl. No point in subtlety, either.

I drew my pistol and blasted the lock out, then put my shoulder into the door to force it open. I heard a pair of screams and saw a fluttering of cloth and hair moving from the room beyond the entry into what looked like a social area to the left.

“Don’t you take one step forward.” I turned back to my right to find a woman waving a knife in my general direction. More like a woman looking about ready to drop a knife in your general direction because she's shaking so hard. Late thirties or early forties if I had to guess, handsome rather than pretty. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here, but I’m going to stop you if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Brave,” I noted. “Brave, but stupid.”

She got a puzzled look on her face, just in time for me to take two quick strides to get into range before slapping the knife out of her hand. It fell to the carpeted floor, making as little noise as the woman was. I cuffed her around the ear, breaking that silence, then dragged her into the room where the kid had gone.

The ‘kid’ ended up being a teenage girl. Would have been almost a woman had she been a Mandalorian but a Mandalorian wouldn’t have been cowering behind a chair like that. I threw the woman – probably her mother – into the chair before speaking. “You, get up.”

The girl stood, still shaking a bit, then nodded and sat in a neighboring chair. The woman put her arms around the girl, consoling her. Something was off, though – grip was too tight, her intonation slightly harsh. I could feel goose bumps on the back of my neck as I tried to puzzle things out, but I got nowhere. Could have just been typical relationship stuff, anyway. Non-Mandalorians always had problems with their teenagers, probably because they were too busy running around spending credits to learn how the galaxy worked.

We waited for Andros’ return in uncomfortable silence. I learned that the girl’s name was Rylee, but little else. It was an uneasy thirty minutes – I’d never been much for socializing, and holding two people at blaster point rarely helped matters. I couldn’t risk one of them getting a warning off, though. I needed to get my hands around Andros’ neck and wring the truth from him before I..

Before you what?

I had planned on killing the man, of course. He had betrayed his oaths as a Mandalorian, betrayed his clan, betrayed his allegiances, betrayed everything my people said they stood for. Just like the usurper had. He had the blood of my family and friends on his hands. I could hear it oozing off his fingers and dripping to the floor one drop at a time, like a leaky faucet that just won’t be fixed. He had taken everything from me, so I would take the one thing he obviously valued more than anything else.

He returned home a half hour after I had arrived, bearing two bags of items from a local mall and a smile that I eagerly destroyed with an armored fist to his face. The woman – his wife, I guessed – shrieked again when she saw the blood spurt from his now-broken nose. I ignored her noises and punched Vryl twice in the stomach, bowling him over. He released all the air out of himself with a loud woosh, a wonderful sound to my ears.

Ignoring the two women in the other room, I grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him face-first into a mirror hanging on the wall. The glass cracked and slashed into his face, leaving ribbons of blood across it from the half-dozen cuts that were opened.

“What? Why?” His eyes were open and wild, circling around the room. “Who are you?”

“She’s a monster,” wailed the older woman.

“A year ago you sold out Orlov Kelborn. Talk.” I would let him do the talking. Then, I would let him do the screaming and dying too.

“What?” His eyes were still wide open but were now focused on me. They were blue and big and strangely honest. “I did…didn’t…I didn’t mean to.”

He didn't mean to betray us. I didn’t mean to break his arm-only his wrist - but I did that anyway.

“Not good enough, Andros. You have more blood on your hands than you could ever hope to atone for. You talk, and I’ll make this easier on you. You don’t, and…” I gave him a look, then a knowing glance into the room the two women were in.

The ******e reacted instantaneously, and not how I expected. He fell to his knees, and clasped his hands in front of him. The blood from his face and nose dripped down, unabated now, and left stains on the carpet.

“I...I did give Falthir Lok the flight plans Kelborn had given me. Must have been a hundred of them but they figured it out anyway.” He must have seen me clenching my jaw, because his tone quickened and was spiced with unadulterated panic. “They had my wife. They had her daughter. Our daughter.” His gaze shifted between me and the corner of the room the women were in that could be seen from where we were. “They would have killed them if I didn’t talk.”

I slapped him across the face. “They killed my family because you did. They killed everyone but me.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just wept bloody tears into the palms of his hands. I gripped my pistol uneasily; this wasn’t what I expected, wasn’t what I had thought it would be. “What do you want me to say? Wouldn’t you do anything to save your family?”

Wouldn’t I?

I hit him in the face again, then put a boot on his chest and kicked him down, so he was lying on his back. “You saved your family by killing mine.”

Vryl merely crawled to his hands and knees and bent over in a gesture of supplication.

The girl – Rylee poked her head into the room through the doorway. “Dad?”

I looked away from the bleeding, weeping, mess in front of me to look at her instead. Her posture made her seem timid, hunched over like that, but I recognized the blaze in her eyes. The strength of a verd, even if she isn’t one. I looked back at Andros Vryl, pitiful thing that he was.

“You still in contact with Falthir Lok?” He shook his head. “Will you give me the information I need to find him?” A nod. “Do so.”

He scrambled off the floor, weakened arms barely able to hold his weight. He was beaten and broken, so I let him retrieve the files he had. Rylee and her mother remained in the room I’d first left them in. I heard them talking, though, probably about the chakaar that had abused their precious Andros. Someday, they would realize that the monster they thought I was…was nothing compared to the monsters that stalked the shadows of Nar Shaddaa and Dxun and a million other places.

Vryl returned, two data pads in hand. “This is all the info I-I have on Falthir Lok.” He paused as he extended a shaky hand over to me. “They…they’ll be after me now. They’ll know what I’ve done.”

“You better run then. Run and hide.” I glared at him until he couldn’t look back. “And you better hope nobody sells you out. Good reason, or otherwise.”I turned and headed for the door. As I stepped through the threshold, I heard him whisper from behind me.

“So you’re really going to let us go?” He sounded confused, but also hopeful.

“You are a coward, Andros. A coward and unworthy of the clan name you bear.” I paused, taking a breath. “But you were defending your own family…in your own way. Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur. I may be a killer, but I am not a murderer.”

He was mumbling something under his breath as I left.

“Mando’ad draar digu.”

Yes, we do.

“Can you believe it, Khem? Can you?” I smiled breezily at the Dashade, making sure to give him a good view of my perfectly white teeth. “This must be the grandest adventure that I have ever been on. Not even Zash could have foreseen this.”

Khem eyed me with cool disdain. I slapped the table loudly, trying to provoke a reaction of some kind, but failed miserably.

“Whatsa matter, Khem? Was Tulak Hord a teetotaler?” I did not wait for a response. “You know what your problem is, Khem? You don’t know how to live it up.” To ensure he understood how seriously I took the matter, I jabbed him twice in the chest with my right forefinger.

“You are intoxicated,” he replied, sounding rather forlorn.

I waved away his prattle. “Nonsense. I am merely finally understanding the true nature of the Force.”

“You are understanding the true nature of drinking heavily after communing with the spirits within you.” He folded his arms across his chest and bared his fangs. “You are an irresponsible child.”

“No. Nooooooooooo.” I wagged a disapproving finger at him. “I am not irresponsible.”

Khem’s mouth opened and closed without making a single sound apart from the locking of his jaw. I laughed, though I was unsure if the laughter was directed at Khem or my own comedic genius.

“I am perfectly in tune with the Force, Khem. In fact, I have never felt a stronger connection than I do now. These ghosts only bring me that much closer to understanding the true mysteries of the Force….the intellectual challenges that have puzzled both Jedi and Sith for so many centuries.”

The Dashade did not look impressed. “The others believe you are merely that much closer to finishing your bottle of Corellian ale.”

I blew him an exaggerated kiss and was pleased to see his face scrunch even further with embarrassment.

Around us, I felt a subtle shift in the Force. Where once there had been muted disgust directed at Khem, and possibly myself, I now felt outright hostility. I viewed the other patrons in the cantina with a cool gaze that took each of them under consideration and then dismissed them as meaningless just as quickly. That went over less well than I expected – one particularly large and mean-looking Pureblood wearing faded black robes that marked him as a lesser acolyte.

“You dishonor us,” he said in his gravelly voice.

The purple lightning flared out from my hand and directly into his chest before he could react, slamming him into the wall. He shuddered and struggled for a moment, then slid down the wall until he lay ina crumpled heap on the floor. I turned back to Khem.

“Perhaps it is time to go, my dear friend.” I leaned in conspiratorially. “I don’t think they like us all that much.”

Khem merely raised a hand and placed it over his face.

“It’s going to take you at least a half hour, Chiss. You don’t have the training that I do, that true Imperials do.” Lieutenant Pjanic puffed his chest out, ostensibly to bolster his argument, but also to make himself look more impressive. It was strange how these Imperials would issue racist and sexist insults to my face only to follow those up with crude attempts at flirtation.

I sighed. Yet another aspect of the fledgling alliance that the Ascendancy would need to consider carefully. Along with the regular atrocities, unstable and unsustainable political and socioeconomic systems and around a million other problems. The Empire was much better at making its minions believe it was a well-oiled machine than it was act actually being one.

Today, my task was a simple one. Imperial Intelligence wished to judge my skills at interrogating a prisoner for information on a terrorist strike against military assets on some distant world I had never heard of. Perhaps it did not exist; perhaps it was a task that they intended to have me fail. It did not matter – I would secure the information one way or another.

And it won’t take me half an hour. Not even close.

I smiled innocently at Pjanic, the buffoon that thought I would ever give him the time of day. Flustered, he was only able to make a wild gesture toward the interrogation chamber instead of the formal presentation he had planned.

Inside, I found a young man strapped to a chair. He had fair hair and brilliant blue eyes…and a scorch mark across his forehead that suggested he had had a very narrow brush with death. No doubt he now wished the bolt had not missed. He took immediate notice of my entrance, openly staring at my blue skin before tracing the outline of the Imperial uniform that hugged my body. All too typical.

“I won’t talk,” he said petulantly as I took my seat, across the table from him. “You won’t get me to talk.”

I responded only with a small smile, then let my eyes bore into him. On cue, Pjanic turned the temperature down in the room, until we could see our breath in the air. The prisoner began shivering furiously, but it was a welcome reminder of home for me.

“I-I-I-I w-w-w-won’t talk.” He was already less sure of himself and we were only forty seconds into the ‘questioning session.’

I smiled at him again and leaned forward, bringing my face even closer to his.

Despite the temperature, I could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his neck, all over. I let my eyes do the talking; they probed his mind and steadily eroded his defenses. His eyes grew wider and wilder, and within three minutes I could tell his shivering was not merely from the cold.

I continued to stare directly at him, enjoying every squirm of discomfort and blinking of each of his eyes.

Two minutes later it was all over. As I left, the man was curled into a ball, whimpering "Her eyes, her eyes," under his breath.

A minute after that, I was relaxing in the lounge with Pjanic, who seemed to alternate between utter disbelief and an irresistible desire to sleep with me. Neither was as enjoyable as knowing what power my mere gaze had. I would be sure to use it again, maybe even for fun.

“No, no, no. You still operate from a motivation of fear. Fear of the power the Dark Side grants--”

“That’s not fear, that’s reasonable--”

“No, no, you miss the point. The Dark side is ineffective. It grants power, yes, but its gifts are temporary at best--”

“The wounds those emotions cause, on wielder and victim alike, are not temporary. They persist. The scars remain.”

“I agree. And the sensation of Dark Side power is intoxicating. Addictively so. Leading the unwary deeper and deeper into a pit from which they can never escape.”

“Or only with great difficulty.”

“True enough. We both defied the odds. Few Jedi and even fewer Sith have the strength of personality to accomplish it. Sith don’t even have a reason to begin the journey.”

“All the more reason to ensure she understands the consequences now, at this early stage--”

Jealousy sat bolt upright in her bed, orange shimmersilk sheets falling away like dying flames, “Will you two be quiet? I am trying to sleep! Some of us still have to!”

The blue glow from Kel’eth Ur’s holocron dimmed to near imperceptibility, “We’ve gone and awakened our keeper,” he whispered.

Revan’s mask remained inscrutable, “It would seem so.”

“You have plenty of time for philosophical discussions when the lights are on,” Jealousy complained. She pointed to the dagger-shaped wall sconces, “Lights off, toys quiet. You aren’t even alive.”

"She called us toys, Revan. I'm offended," Kel'eth Ur said.

"Don't be," Revan's mask replied, "a child plays with toys. Keeps them close. Talks to them. Artifacts get forgotten on a shelf."

Kel'eth Ur considered, "I had not thought of it that way," he said after a pause.

Jealousy growled, a low sound full of menace that quailed many a would-be challenger on Korriban. "Quiet, both of you, or I'll shove you in a box together and scramble the lock."

"She glows dark, does she not?" Revan’s mask said.

“She does indeed,” Kel’eth Ur concurred, “Exquisite. I would court her if I were younger.”

“And alive,” Revan’s mask said.

“Well, yes.”

“You have your work cut out for you, you know, convincing her of your views.”

“We both do,” Kel’eth Ur agreed.

Jealousy glared at the pair of them. "If I knew you would be this much trouble I'd have given you," her finger stabbed toward Revan’s mask, the eye slit darker than the shadows around it, "back to your cult. And you," she jabbed at decorative cube that was Kel’eth Ur’s consciousness, "could stay sealed in the Dark Temple for another thousand years for all I care."

No response. Jealousy burrowed back under the sheets and blankets and curled up into a ball. Quiet. At last. The ship hummed along in hyperspace, the low vibration settling gently into her brain. Unravelling strands of tension. Slowing down.

“You were Jedi first, Revan, and it shows,” Kel’eth Ur whispered at last.

“Oh?” Revan’s mask objected.

“You argue for a balanced approach for external reasons. To cause no harm, to preserve life.”

“To reach a more complete understanding of the Force,” Revan’s mask said, “is that not power? Is that not what Sith want?”

Kel’eth Ur continued, “It is not enough to promise power. You must show your way is better, yes, but also that the Sith way is flawed.”

“It is. So is the Jedi way.”

“You will not persuade both the same way. I am Sith. Sith care naught for others, only themselves,” Kel’eth Ur said.

“And?” Revan’s mask challenged.

“I saw the Sith way to power was built on sand. Fear begets fear. Hate begets hate. The Emperor feared me and killed me rather than allow my ideas to spread. I am dead for centuries, and still they fear me. Fear becomes paranoia. Hate becomes wanton cruelty. Passion consumes itself. It is self-defeating by its very nature. A Sith appreciates this argument.”

“I see,” Revan’s mask agreed, “you would use her selfishness to lead her to a better way.”

A pillow sailed across the room, striking the shelf and knocking both mask and holocron to the floor. Jealousy stormed up, sparks dancing on her fingers. “That’s it! I’ve had enough!” She tugged open a drawer and shoved Revan’s mask inside, burying it in yellow and red robes. Kel’eth Ur’s holocron followed. Jealousy slammed the drawer shut with her foot, “Stay there!” she ordered, “Maybe I’ll take you out, maybe I won’t!” She snatched up the pillow and threw it at the bed. Then she marched back and tunneled back under the sheets. Wound them up around her head. Blocked out all sound.

The room was quiet but for the humm of the hyperdrive and the hiss of the air recirculators.

“Fire and shadow both,” Kel’eth Ur said quietly, “truly exquisite. Oh to be young and alive again.”

“You...have family? Children?” Revan’s mask whispered.

“I did,” Kel’eth Ur whispered back, “the Emperor executed them. To punish me for my heresy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be,” Kel’eth Ur replied, “I understood the risks, defying the Emperor. As I said, fear begets fear. I chose not to fear. You? Jedi are not permitted families, are they?”

“I did. Have family.” Revan’s mask was quiet for a bit. Finally he spoke again, “A...wife. My memories are not so clear as yours.”

“Ah. Well, you were not a purpose-built artifact. Perhaps--”

Lightning danced over the bulkhead, “SHUT UP!”

Hunkered outside in the passageway, Khem Val heard Little Sith’s voice. Again. Screeching at nothing. His claws scritched together. All Sith were imbalanced to some degree. Even the great Tulak Hord. The lights in the bay flickered as electrical discharge strained the ship’s system. Little Sith was more than most. Speaking to nothing was a bad sign.

@Phyreblade: Welcome aboard! Know what I like about your piece? The hopelessness. You really convey the feeling that there IS nothing left to care about. Nothing that matters. When you finish, you almost feel broken inside for Gaib. I've always felt that if you can affect your readers emotionally, then it's a good piece. That's good stuff right there. Nice first offering, sir.

@Alaurin: I like Ros. Not like I like Malay, but about the same, just in a different way. Her exposure to the JK storyline is making her different from all the other Lauren gals. Watching how she grows out of this will be interesting indeed. And I gotta agree with Lesaberisa, they missed a major storyline by skipping through that part of the JK's experience.

@Lesaberisa: Ok, so I'm now campaigning for it. MORE AMURRI PLEASE! I can't say that it's not because I'm partial to the BH, but I love this character! The different direction she's coming from, her thought processes, she's just great.

What I might or might not do in a day, a week, or a month mattered not. I could only fight the battles before me, and hunt the enemies that were there to be found.

I loved this line especially. No matter what walk of life you're from, this is the truth. And it frames her drive and her process. One thing at a time, and focus only on that thing. It makes her less a being and more of a force to be reckoned with. Almost Boba Fett-esque, if you will.

The piece with Veresia was great, especially when you factor in her reaction to the Pureblood's distaste. People take her for a soft, teenage-girl-can't-hold-her-booze type of gal, and then learn that she's still got a hardened edge to her. Plus, you can never go wrong with Khem Val being the DD

Agent Mina pulled that off in grand style. Her ability to interrogate without drawing blood or breaking things actually makes her scarier than Drokk when he loses his s**t. What's that old Japanese saying? The anticipation of death is worse than death itself. Mina's gonna be one to watch.

HAHA! Awesome. Just plain damn awesome! Jealousy's desire to keep the artifacts from your earlier stories finally comes full circle, and with beautiful effect. A philosophical discussion on the force between two artifacts that MAY or MAY NOT be happening inside Jealousy's head had me laughing enough that I had to put down my water. Brilliant work!