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From Brute to Silly: the Life of Ald

STAR WARS: The Old Republic > English > Community Content > Fan Fiction
From Brute to Silly: the Life of Ald

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irishfino
11.21.2012 , 07:55 PM | #1
My brain continues to pump out stories for Ald. (I'm still working on the next arc of NSP, don't kill me.) The first few chunks of story will be cross-posts from the Short Fic thread with a bit of order added and more details.

Here's what Ald looks like:

Military gear and all.

I hope you all enjoy!
I'll probably die if you group with me, but I'll go out with both lightsabers drawn stabbing someone in the face. Probably you, but it's cool. Forever Shenanigans!!

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irishfino
11.21.2012 , 07:56 PM | #2
Cross-post with bits added to the end.

EDIT: Posted them out of order... Good job, Fino.



I Need a Pair of Pants
A Decent Pair of Pants!



Ald was beyond happy being bestowed a new crew member who was tastefully attractive without being a giant blue pile of sarcasm. It wasn’t that he hated Vette, but she was poor company for an up and coming Sith Lord such as himself. The officer, however, was perfect. Unquestioning, loyal, and he had a nice bum. Ald wondered briefly if he should dress as an Imperial officer to show off his bum. The thought followed him to the bridge where he was briefly greeted by said officer’s bum before the stiff man turned around and slipped into parade rest.

“My Lord, there is something I wish to discuss with you,” Malavai Quinn announced as the aforementioned Lord entered the bridge.

“There’s something I’d like to discuss with you, as well, Captain,” Ald said kindly.

“After you, my Lord.”

“I prefer to be called Ald.”

“Out of the question, my Lord,” the Captain replied stiffly and quickly.

“If it makes you feel better,” Ald murmured as he shifted and crossed his arms, “you can call me Lord Ald.”

“The furthest I will go is Lord Aldrdinar. It is proper and shows respect.”

“You’re not even saying it right. It’s All-dir-dee-narh.”

“Your file says it is pronounced All-der-de-narh.”

“I know how to pronounce my own name!” Ald huffed.

“Even Darth Baras pronounces it the way the file says,” the Captain replied stiffly.

“I pronounce it differently.”

“You can’t just change how your name is pronounced whenever you feel like it.”

“I’m Sith, I do what I want.”

“You’re confusing.”

“Are you arguing with me, Captain?”

The Captain started and shifted uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t dream of it, my Lord.”

“Good. Now, what did you wish to discuss?”

“I need to requisition new pants, my Lord. These are a bit tight in personal areas,” the Captain said stiffly.

“Do I need to sign something?”

The Captain produced a datapad from his magic uniform pockets and handed it to Ald. With a few taps and a beep, Quinn’s new pants were on their way.

“Thank you for attending to this matter, my Lord,” the Captain said gratefully. He gave Ald a small bow then moved to turn back to his duties.

“Anything for you, Captain,” Ald said quietly as he left the bridge.

The Captain’s ear twitched as he picked up his Lord’s last words to him before his departure. He was definitely different from the other Sith Lords he had served. He wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

When the Captain’s pants arrived, Ald was sure to check on him to ensure his new pants were a comfortable fit.

“How are the new pants suiting you, Captain?” Ald asked curiously.

“Very well, my Lord. It’s amazing what a few extra millimeters can do for a man,” the Captain replied conversationally.

“Tell me about it,” Ald murmured forlornly.

“Well, I can move a damn sight better without fear of my bits being squished or fear of my pants ripping to shreds at a crucial moment in time. During an assassination, for example.”

Ald hadn’t been expecting a serious answer. He spat out a laugh that quickly evolved into a fit of the giggles. So hard was he laughing at Quinn’s obtuse response tears sprang to his eyes. The Captain stared a bit uncomfortably as Ald cried tears of laughter. He shifted his weight a few times while he waited for the Sith Lord to regain his composure.

Ald sniffed and wiped his eyes. “You’re a riot, Quinn,” Ald said, laughter still in his voice.

He patted the confused Captain on the shoulder and chuckled to himself all the way to the ship’s kitchen area. Quinn stared after him in confusion. Aldrdinar was a strange one. He would have to include a variable for the random silly the Sith Lord could find in everyday conversations. Perhaps it would save his life some day.
I'll probably die if you group with me, but I'll go out with both lightsabers drawn stabbing someone in the face. Probably you, but it's cool. Forever Shenanigans!!

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iamthehoyden
11.21.2012 , 08:13 PM | #3
Quote: Originally Posted by irishfino View Post
Here's what Ald looks like: Military gear and all.I hope you all enjoy!
Hello hotness
aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?
---------------
Fan Fiction: My Name is Solomon Crae The Man in the Box

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irishfino
11.21.2012 , 08:33 PM | #4
Quote: Originally Posted by iamthehoyden View Post
Hello hotness
Hello yourself.
...I gotta stop with the meta text... I'm running out of color options.
I'll probably die if you group with me, but I'll go out with both lightsabers drawn stabbing someone in the face. Probably you, but it's cool. Forever Shenanigans!!

irishfino's Avatar


irishfino
11.21.2012 , 08:35 PM | #5
Playing Dress-up


“This is a horrible plan, my Lord. I see numerous flaws,” the Captain said stiffly.

“I quite obviously have my lightsabers on my belt, Captain,” replied Ald.

“Yes, but people look at clothing first, not weaponry. It’s a mistake that has cost a great many lives on both sides of the coin. I beg you to reconsider.”

Ald simply chuckled and shook his head at the Captain. He had managed to convince the stiff man to switch outfits for the day as they were very nearly the same build. Ald had checked his bum in the mirror and was quite satisfied with how the Imperial uniform perked his bum just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to drive a wedge between the cheeks. He hated cinched unders.

The Captain, with the uniformed Ald in tow, made his way to the Nexus Room Cantina for what would likely prove to be a trying evening at best. As soon as they walked through the door, Quinn put the hood on the robes he had borrowed up. He really did not want to be recorded posing as a Sith Lord. It would get dicey. Well, he would get diced. With lightsabers. He shuddered faintly at the thought. Ald, on the other hand, reveled in the attention he was receiving. It was rare for a Force-blind Pureblood to live in the Empire, let alone rise to the station of Captain in the Imperial Navy. Those taking a closer look noticed his lightsabers right away. Those in-tune with the Force noticed his strength in it before he stepped into the room. The various stages of horror, interest, and boredom on the faces of those staring at the pair made Ald slightly giddy. Ald’s face broke into a silly grin as he stepped further into the Cantina and straight to an empty table. Murmurings of impropriety followed in their wake, but Ald paid them no mind and Quinn was too busy being uncomfortable in a crowded room to notice.

“I am not a social creature,” the Captain said stiffly as he sat down.

“I can tell. You need to get out more. Live a little,” Ald said with a lopsided grin.

“I live plenty, my Lo – Ald.”

Ald’s grin turned to pure teeth. “You learn fast.”

“You don’t survive in the Empire by being a dunce. Stupidity serves no other purpose than to weed out the weak.”

“You’re so Imperial,” Ald chuckled.

Quinn arched a brow he was sure went unseen due to him hiding his face as best he could under the hood.

“I have no response other than to state the obvious, Ald,” Quinn said stiffly. “And I damn sure don’t like calling you by your nickname. One I’m entirely sure you made up just to upset me.”

“No,” Ald laughed quietly, “I’ve had this nickname for a number of years.”

Their conversation was interrupted by an awfully hands on woman. Her boldness in pinching the bum of the Captain turned Sith signaled her reliance in her charm and her handle on the Force. Quinn turned an even paler shade of pale.

“Hello, my Lord,” the woman purred.

“Hello,” Quinn murmured uncomfortably.

“Not a big talker?”

“Lord Praecursator prefers action over words,” Ald supplied helpfully.

“Quiet, Imperial,” the woman snapped.

Ald frowned. The woman wasn’t hard on the eyes: tall, well dressed, brunette, green eyes, fair skin. But it was obvious to any Force sensitive that she was no Sith Lord.

“Don’t be rude,” Quinn admonished smoothly. “You never know just who you are insulting.”

“He’s an officer, it doesn’t matter,” the woman said off-handedly.

Quinn bristled then rose from his seat and stared down his nose at the woman.

“Never insult the Imperials who serve. They do so out of a sense of duty to the Empire,” he hissed. “And never forget that a Sith can be killed by a mere Imperial. It may save your pitiful life someday.”

His point made, he brushed past her and strode for the exit. Ald strangled back a laugh, waved to the confused woman, and ran after the quickly moving Quinn. When Ald finally caught up to Quinn, he grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around.

“That was amazing!” Ald said with a grin.

“Yes,” Quinn murmured quietly, “it truly was.”

“We’re doing this again next week.”

“As you wish, Ald,” Quinn said with a small grin and a polite bow.
I'll probably die if you group with me, but I'll go out with both lightsabers drawn stabbing someone in the face. Probably you, but it's cool. Forever Shenanigans!!

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irishfino
11.21.2012 , 11:54 PM | #6
Cross-post with combinations and edits.

Abandoned to Thrive


Ald had always been a bit strange. He was born to what appeared to be a pair of normal humans. His parents had obviously been expecting a normal human child of similar skin tone, eye color, hair color. A child of their own. What they got instead was a strangely orange infant with orange eyes. A pureblood in name only as he was obviously not a true Sith Pureblood. His parents took him home to raise him as their own until his sensitivity made it too dangerous to continue. So they left him. They took him to the jungles of Dromund Kaas, told him to go hide and they would come find him, and they left. They left him to thrive or die. And he thrived.

Yozusk. Sleen. Vine cat. All food. All meat and protein. All hard as hell to kill without a well-placed cliff fall. Once the beast of choice was downed he had five minutes to gather as much as he could into his poorly constructed animal leather pouch before the predators of the jungle came for their share. He used the vines and overgrowth clinging to the cliff to climb back up. It had taken him a while to master this skill. After his first near death experience with hungry predators sensing an easy meal, he worked on it like the Sith he was.

He made it back to the cave he had recently claimed as his own. His old one was on the way to being discovered, but it made little difference. None of these places were home and none of them ever would be. It didn’t matter. Being left alone in the jungles didn’t matter as long as it made him stronger. He knew that much. Sith were strong. Only the weak died, the strong survived and conquered all obstacles. Failure was not an option.

He started a small fire far enough outside the cave to vent the smoke, but under enough cover to keep the flame burning strong in spite of the rain. Tonight, he would eat. Tomorrow, he would hunt down the Imperials who were sure to find his old cave and kill them. They wouldn’t send another patrol for a while after and the Brute of the Jungle would be allowed to hunt and thrive in relative peace.
I'll probably die if you group with me, but I'll go out with both lightsabers drawn stabbing someone in the face. Probably you, but it's cool. Forever Shenanigans!!

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irishfino
11.21.2012 , 11:56 PM | #7
Cross-post with combinations and edits.

From Brute to Apprentice


Some years later, he was picked up by Imperial officers. “Brute of the Jungle” they called him. He didn’t care what they called him. True, he looked a bit wild with his tattered shorts and shoulder length black hair, but he was mostly harmless with the Force dampening cuffs around his wrists. All was well until they reached Kaas City proper. “You’ll be a slave,” they said. “Harkun has been looking for another group of slaves to kill.” The young teen simply grinned, grabbed the nearest officer’s vibroknife, and killed any stupid enough to try to stop his escape. As he ran away covered in blood and rain, the remaining officers sprayed his back with blaster fire. He kept running and no one stopped him. Blinded by pain and rain and tears, the young teen slammed into the black robes of a Sith. The few brave souls who had gathered to watch the boy’s escape shuddered in unison. The boy was as good as dead. The Sith he had collided with stared down his nose at the boy, but otherwise made no move to reprimand him.

The officers who had opened fire were now running up on the boy. He felt them. He felt their anger and their fear. He wobbled to his feet, gave the Sith Lord a short bow then ran around him, continuing his escape. He made it a short distance before blood loss and hunger caught up to him. He collapsed, panting and full of rage waiting for the next shower of bullets to end his miserable life. None came. He heard the sound of heavy feet approaching him then saw the armored boots of the Sith Lord he had run into. No wonder they didn’t come for him. He was as good as dead already. A vice closed around his throat and he was lifted into the air. The Sith Lord brought him to face level and stared at him with a strange fascination. In that moment, the young teen gathered his hate, his fear, his loneliness, the pain of hunger and blaster fire into his hands and brought the vibroknife to life. The Sith Lord continued to watch as life blinked out of the boy. To his surprise, the boy brought the knife to his own face and began carving a pattern on his skin. The pain from his self-inflicted wounds was enough to give him a burst of energy strong enough to break the choke hold the Sith Lord had on him. He fell to the ground in a heap, coughing and sputtering for all he was worth.

“What’s your name, boy?” the towering Sith Lord asked.

“I no longer have one,” the young teen answered.

“You are a pureblood, but you have no name?”

“I was abandoned in the jungles by my parents. I abandoned my name years ago, my Lord.”

The Sith Lord chuckled quietly. “You know enough to have manners.” The Sith Lord paused then made a decision. “Very well. From this day forward, you will be known as Aldrdinar, apprentice to Lord Inusitus.”

The newly renamed Aldrdinar nodded weakly before his body gave out and he fell the short distance to the wet duracrete below.

***


Ald was never sure if Dromund Kaas actually had seasons. There were months of cooler temperatures, warmer temperatures, less rainfall, more rainfall, and a general comfortable time that found a balance between rain and warmth. They seemed to move in a pattern, but nothing that screamed “seasonal.”

The first two years of his new life were fraught with fear and misery and woe and death. He wanted nothing to do with this place. He wanted to go home. He wanted his bed. He wanted his toys. He wanted the parents who used to love him. The parents who used to read to him at night or sit by his bed after a strange dream or a moving shadow scared the daylights out of him. Or the nightlights, as it were. But he knew, he knew somewhere in his six year old mind that there was no going back. “The Jedi send their kids off to train at age six,” he remembered his father saying in hushed tones. That’s when he knew something strange was going on. They thought he couldn’t hear him, but the Force thrummed in his ears when his curiosity got the better of him. When his parents took him on a day trip to Dromund Kaas, he felt their apprehension and something else. Was it relief? He remembers the jungles being a bit chilly that day; what passed for Winter on the capital planet.

By eight, he knew the patrol schedule and encampment placements by memory alone. He was always on the move, there was no time and no resource at his disposal to make a permanent map. He’d learned that the hard way when Imperials managed to track him down via his poorly crafted map on animal leather. They were kind enough to leave him for dead. They were dead fools when he was through with them. Spring brought warmer weather and new life. And the Brute of the Jungle was born.

When the humidity became unbearable during the day, he knew it was Summer. By ten, he had tracked down enough material to create a mask to dampen its effects on his ability to breathe and be active during the day. He hunted, he killed, he stole, he lived. The Brute’s legend grew. Whisperings of tales told to naughty children reached his ears and he was delighted. He’d force the last Imperial lying in his own blood to tell him the story. He promised he would let them live if they would just tell him a story. And his legend grew by leaps and bounds. He did this for several years before the stories became too boring to sate his curiosity. And the Summer heat blazed across the jungles, led by the Brute of the Jungle and his child-like amusement.

When Fall came, he prepared for Winter. The winters were never harsh, but years in the jungle had taught him to be prepared for anything. And when his fall came, it was to his backside in Kaas City proper at age fourteen. He had collided with a Sith Lord. For him, Fall blossomed new life instead of signaling the death of life. And he fell from the title Brute of the Jungle to the rise to the title of Aldrdinar, Sith Apprentice to Lord Inusitus.

As he prepared his Winter quarters for the fight ahead, he couldn’t help, but bubble with happiness. He was finally wanted for his power. He would rise. It was the Sith way.

***


The first time he held a lightsaber in his hands he knew he was truly a Sith. Power thrummed from his hands, into the hilt, through the crystal, and into a blood red blade that hummed as he sliced at the air. He was mesmerized by the glow of the blade, entranced by its siren song, and emboldened by the power it represented. He could strike fear into many without striking any. This was power. This was glory. This was the means to an end and to a beginning.

Lord Inusitus indulged Ald his whimsies for the first few months. The young lad would often run off into the night and into the jungle for a few days. It was home to him. He pined for it. When it came time to focus, however, Lord Inusitus would find ways to keep him from the jungles. Ald’s frustration would grow and grow until it became anger. Anger begets rage. Rage begets power. Power begets strength. Strength begets victory. Through victory, the chains of the jungle were broken. The Force had cleared the jungle brush and led him to his current path. The Force had freed him while also keeping him captive to its whims. He enjoyed every minute of a power greater than himself forcing him forward.

He was a tool of the Force as much as the Force was a tool for him. And he loved it.
I'll probably die if you group with me, but I'll go out with both lightsabers drawn stabbing someone in the face. Probably you, but it's cool. Forever Shenanigans!!

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irishfino
11.23.2012 , 02:03 PM | #8
Cross-post with a big chunk added after.
Conference Table Shenanigans


Quinn sought an audience with Ald late in the day when he was sure Vette and Pierce would be too busy drinking and shooting targets in the Cargo Bay to bother to eavesdrop. Still, he put a white noise emitter on the door just in case.

When he turned to Ald, the Sith Lord grinned lopsidedly at him. He was always at ease around him. It put him on edge.

“My Lord, some time ago you expressed an interest in furthering our… relationship,” Quinn said stiffly.

“Yes and, if I recall correctly, you thought it ‘improper’,” Ald replied.

“I have had time to think on it, my Lord.”

“And?” Ald asked, arching a brow.

Quinn shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“I have always preferred the company of women.” Quinn frowned when Ald’s face dropped. “That is not to say that I haven’t enjoyed the company of men as well.”

“What are you trying to say, Captain?” Ald asked a tad impatiently.

“I’m trying to say the only barriers between us are our respective ranks, but, if you are will to overlook such matters, I believe we can find a suitable arrangement.”

Ald answered him with a kiss filled with repressed desire. He pressed his body to Quinn’s with great urgency and moved him until his back was pressed against the door. Quinn’s repression, however, was far stronger and forced the pair from the door to the conference table to previously unexplored heights. The table would never be the same again.

***


The crew had gathered in the conference room for a short meeting when Vette noticed the damage to the conference table.

“What the hell happened to the conference table?” Vette asked.

A faint blush dusted Ald’s rust orange cheeks, but Quinn continued his briefing as if nothing happened.

“Seriously, there are dents all over it!” Vette piped. She traced three gouges in the surface with her nails. “There are scratches in the surface! They match up with my fingernails!”

“Are you trying to tell us something, Vette?” Quinn asked smoothly.

Vette turned her attention back to him. The holoprojector cast blue shadows along the contours of his face, highlighting his cool, blank face and the ferocity in his blue eyes.

“Was someone tortured on the conference table?” Vette asked.

“No,” Quinn replied stiffly.

“Then what the hell happened to it? It looks like its seen some things.”

Ald face palmed next to her while Pierce chuckled across the table.

“I don’t have time to examine every detail of the conference table,” Quinn said stiffly, “especially during a mission briefing. Kindly turn your attentions back to the matter at hand and be silent.”

Vette squinted at Quinn for a moment before huffing and crossing her arms. Quinn continued his briefing, but Vette’s attentions had now shifted to Ald. Ald had turned his attentions back to the Captain, a blush still faint on his cheeks. The gears in her mind turned and turned, her lekku twitching as she put the pieces together: Ald’s blushing, Quinn’s weird blue gaze of doom, and the dents on the conference table.

“You two had sex on the table!” Vette squeaked.

Ald sputtered, Pierce gaped, and Quinn slammed his hand down on the table.

“Vette!” Quinn snapped. “This is neither the time nor the place for your twisted fantasies. Kindly keep them to yourself.”

“Twisted?” Ald asked quietly.

Quinn straightened his back and glanced at Ald from the corner of his eye. “Not the time, my Lord. Allow me to finish the briefing. Please.”

“Was there something weird about it?”

“My Lord, this is not the time,” Quinn answered stiffly.

“I need popcorn for this,” Vette muttered to herself.

“I’d settle for an ale,” Pierce mumbled.

“Was it not satisfactory?” Ald asked.

Quinn ran a hand down his face then pinched the bridge of his nose. “My Lord, I am trying to conduct a briefing here. I can sooth your ego later.”

“I thought it was good,” Ald mumbled sadly.

Quinn fought the urge to slam his head into the nearest hard object and render himself unconscious.

“My Lord,” Quinn said stiffly, “we can talk about this later. In private.”

“On the conference table?” Ald asked hopefully.

At the conference table,” Quinn insisted.

Ald slouched in his seat and pouted. Quinn put a hand over his eyes and continued where he left off with his mission briefing. Emperor dammit.
I'll probably die if you group with me, but I'll go out with both lightsabers drawn stabbing someone in the face. Probably you, but it's cool. Forever Shenanigans!!

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iamthehoyden
11.23.2012 , 02:16 PM | #9
I can't stop giggling. "I thought it was good." Oh man, lol.
aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?
---------------
Fan Fiction: My Name is Solomon Crae The Man in the Box

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Tatile
11.23.2012 , 02:42 PM | #10
"Was it not satisfactory?"

Make me giggle why don't you?