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The Alternate Universe Weekly Challenge Thread


elliotcat

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Our regularly scehduled prompt provider won't be with us today, so we booked a replacement. Appearing now *drum roll*

 

Week of 12/6/13

Heritage and Antiques---Star Wars is full of special things. Old things. Things with personal meaning, things revered as holy. The lightsaber your father wanted you to have when you were old enough. Your grandmother’s silver (or silver ship) you hope one day to give to your grandchildren. The insignia of your squad’s first commander, the one whose bravery won her (or him) a medal and gave your squad its reputation. The holocron that corrupted (or redeemed) your master. What things, places, or heirlooms are special to your character?

 

As always, there’s Night of the Living Prompt. Use any prompt you like. See the list here:

http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675

This week’s featured NotLP is:

Ceremony---Some of our characters don’t stand on it, for others it is the most important thing. It could be coming of age, marriage, graduation, retirement, or something else. Large and formal, small and casual, secular, religious, cultural, or both. Once in a lifetime, or something that recurs yearly or monthly or daily. Characters participate in many ceremonies during their lives and in various capacities. Write about a special one.

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Thanks for posting the prompts, Striges, it reminded me to update the prompt archive. (I was only 3 weeks behind :o )

 

So it's been several months but the Dark Ally AU won't leave me alone so here's another bit.

 

Title: Lost

Prompt: I Love This Bar/Allies

Implied JK End game spoilers no details.

 

 

Slippery Slopes Cantina, Nar Shaddaa

 

Remi never drank. Loss of self-control had never appealed to her and after her ordeal with the Emperor she feared it even more. She stared at the tumbler of golden liquid that promised to dull the edge of her memories. It was temporary and hardly perfect, but nothing else had worked.

 

A nautolan, who looked more bouncer than bartender, glowered at her from behind the bar. More than an hour had passed since he poured her that drink and she still had not touched it. She lifted her head slowly and met his pupil-less gaze. Something in her expression made him cringe. His head tentacles flattened as if they each tried to get away from her and his seldom used eyelids blinked rapidly. He retreated to the far end of the bar.

 

"They told me I'd find you here." A deep voice said from behind her. "They didn't tell me you'd be drunkenly terrorizing the workers."

 

"I'm not drunk," she replied without turning.

 

"No? I would be if I were you." The owner of the voice sat beside her, the barstool creaked in protest to his weight. He was more machine than man, but still human in the ways that mattered. "I heard about what happened."

 

Remi croaked a laugh, "You sure? Which version of my triumphant victory were you fed?"

 

He tried to meet her eyes, but she avoided his gaze. He lowered his synthetic voice until it was hardly a whisper, "You think he's still alive."

 

She shrugged, but the sudden tension in her body betrayed her surprise. She had spent the greater part of the past month trying to convince the Council that whatever it was she had fought in the temple, the true danger remained. They listened attentively then suggested, calmly and compassionately, that her fear was born of anger over Lord Scourge's betrayal. Her crew was given leave to celebrate and she was given mandatory time off to meditate and find her balance. They had gone on to inform the Senate of her success, but apparently someone had heard her, perhaps even believed her. It was a small relief.

 

Galen waited for her to say something, but what could she tell him? That she barely ate and no longer slept. That every time she closed her eyes he was there. She remembered every detail of that moment with aching clarity, the heat of his body, the thin sheen of sweat on his dark red skin, the way his lips had trembled when he spoke despite his outward calm. She shook her head.

 

"I believed in him," she said finally. "I believed what he said about the ritual, about the Emperor. I thought we fought on the same side." She clenched her fists, "I know the threat was real, I felt it. All those rituals we stopped were more than just a ploy to draw out the fleet. It had to be. Then there's all these questions. Why did he help me escape the first time? Why did he take me to fight his master? Why did he let me go? And why?" She pounded her fist on the bar top, "Why did he warn me in the end? None of it makes any sense!"

 

She grabbed her drink and swallowed it in one gulp. Coughing as the unfamiliar liquid burned its way down her throat, she Force-pulled the bottle from a shelf behind the bar. "You want to know what the worst part is?" she asked downing the second shot like the first and slamming the empty tumbler down. "I still believe him."

 

She reached for the bottle again but Galen put his hand over hers, it closed and tightened with mechanical precision. "For what it's worth, I think you're right." His human eye attempted to convey sympathy where his touch could not. "You saw something worth saving in me, even when I didn't. I trust your instincts."

 

She hid her face in her hands it was not long before her shoulders began to shake. "You were always good, Galen. He was always Sith."

 

"Oh, Remi," he sighed and pulled her into his arms. Cybernetic cables and sub-dermal plating were not designed for comfort but it hardly mattered. She clung to him pressing her face against the front of his shirt as her sobs intensified. "I'm SIS, always have been," he said into her hair. "They turn away the good men at the door."

 

 

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Something nice for the holidays…

Week of 12/20/2013

Snatched from the Jaws of Defeat: Our characters get into a lot of scrapes, a lot of desperate situations. Sometimes it may look like there’s no way to win…but a surprise might be in store. Write about a time your character had a success they weren’t expecting.

 

And, as ever,

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675.

This week's featured NotLP:

Brotherhood/Sisterhood – Whether by bonds of blood, adoption, or camaraderie, brothers and sisters can see us through our best and our worst times. Write about sibling relationship your character has.

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Week of 12/27/2013

Altered States of Mind - Unlike dreaming, some altered states of mind happen while you’re wide awake and definitely doing things that affect the real world. Lots of things may affect the consciousness, from aggression-inducing biological agents to hypnotic music to spice to plain old alcohol. Write about your character’s experience with an altered state of consciousness. Was it fun or scary? Did it lead them to do something they always wished they could? Or was it more regrettable?

 

And, as ever,

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675.

 

This week's featured NotLP:

Parenthood - Many of our characters either have issues with their parents, are parents themselves, or both. Parents can make things complicated, whether it's simply the generational gap or the fact that they aren't great parents.

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Honestly when I saw this weeks prompt I could not resist.

 

Prompt: Altered States of Mind

Featuring: Pierce, Aric and my SW

Timeline: I don't honestly know.

Spoilers: None I can think of does contain drug/alcohol use.

Location: SW's apartment on Nar Shaddaa

 

 

 

 

A low rumbling filled the air. What is that? Her hand drifted down to her hip hovering over her saber hilt. Twisting sideways she proceeded down the hall; her left foot leading her right. Reaching out through the Force she investigated the odd rumbling noise. She felt a fuzzy warmth, confused she paused. The low rumbling returned, filling the corridor. By the Force what was going on? Again she reached out and felt an enveloping fuzzy-feeling warmth.

 

Cautiously she continued down the corridor. As she approached the apartment, she realized the door was wide open. She slowed, that's not right. Why is the door open? The low rumbling grew louder, building as it rolled down the hall. What was going on? Frowning she continued.

 

She paused just before the door's threshold, the rumbling had deepened and it was joined by an equally deep hissing. Canting her head she listened, trying to identify the noises. Nothing, she just couldn't place them. Swallowing a growl of frustration she advanced on the door, stepping into the apartments dimly lit interior.

 

What greeted her caused her eyebrows to shoot skyward. Sprawled before her, shirtless and rolling his face along the burgundy velvet upholstery of the chaise lounge, was Aric. He was apparently the source of the low rumbling noise. She watched as he rubbed one cheek, then the other, his eyes barely open, a look of pure contentment on his face.

 

The odd hissing noise returned, pulling her attention away from the oddly behaving Cathar. Moving past him she headed deeper into the apartment. She discovered Pierce a few meters away sitting within the kitchen underneath the table. He was playing with a small toy Imperial Walker and a toy solider, muttering barely audible commands followed by a low hissing laughter. Alright by the Ninth Corellian Hell what is going on, she thought.

 

“Lieutenant, what are you doing?” She crossed her arms, frowning at Pierce.

 

“Ohh heeey Kiit.” He looked up at her grinning, eyes wide, black pupils consuming his brown irises. They slid skipping as he looked at her face.

 

What had they gotten into? “Oh hey Lieutenant, what are you doing under the table?”

 

“Fightn',” he smiled at her before dropping his bouncing gaze back to the toys.

 

“Fighting hmm, why are you fighting under the table?”

 

“Hidin',” he didn't even look up.

 

She frowned again. “Why are you hiding?”

 

“His shirt, it's out ta get us.”

 

She sighed rubbing her temple. “It's out to get you?”

 

“Yesss!” He picked up the little soldier, making low-pitched blaster noises. He then nudged the walker over, his low hissing laughter growing.

 

“Where did you two go tonight Pierce?”

 

“Oouutt.” The walker righted itself, promptly stomping the soldier to the smashing staccato of mouth-made mechanized steps.

 

“Out where? Go anyplace fun? See any new people?”

 

“Ohhh yeaah, wees did. A cigarra salesmen. Hhee was new.”

 

A cigarra salesmen? Since when did cigarras get sold outside cigarra shops? “Where did you find this salesmen,” she asked Pierce.

 

“Oohh at ta cantina Steen ... Stenk... Stinky Somthin'. Aric had smoked his last one n' wanted more. N' this guy hee had sum.”

 

“How many cantinas have the two of you been too this evening?”

 

His massive shoulders just shrugged, “Couple maybee.” The walker fell over barraged by more blaster fire. “Ohh,” he picked his head up, “we won! Our Huttball team won!”

 

“So you were out celebrating? How much did the two of you drink?”

 

“Oh, lots,” his near black unfocused eyes dropped back to the toys.

 

“Great,” she muttered to herself, “they got hammered at the game, then continued celebrating. At some point they got their hands on these cigarras, lovely.” She sighed; well maybe if she was lucky the cigarras were still here somewhere so she could potentially figure out what exactly those two had smoked on top of all that alcohol they consumed.

 

Moving back to the living room she bent over picking up Aric's discarded shirt. Absentmindedly she smoothed the shirt, when her hand brushed against something in his front pocket. “Really ...” her fingers slipped into the pocket, touching the smooth paper of a cigarra. “Now that is convenient,” she murmured. Bringing the brown cigarra to her nose she inhaled and promptly grimaced. It reeked of the earthy, slightly sweet smell of dreamroot. Well that would explain why they were acting the way they were. The cigarra's were heavily laced with the plants dried foliage, it was a parasitic but rather pretty blue flower that grew within the upper boughs of the wroshyr tree. Shaking her head she walked into the living room, noticing the constant undercurrent of rumbling was gone. Aric was sprawled on his stomach, body draped along the lounge, head resting on his arm sound asleep.

 

“What am I going to do with the two of you?” She muttered, “don't tell me I will have to babysit the both of you when you go out.” Reaching out her right hand she Force pulled a blanket to her from its usual resting spot on the sofa in the corner. Unfurling it she let it settle over Aric's slumbering form. Kneeling she brushed his disheveled mane out of his face; the rumbling resumed at her light touch. Gently she kissed him; he shifted slightly, smiling.

 

A hovering frown on her lips she stood, she still didn't understand why they had bought spiced laced cigarras, the two of them were usually more levelheaded than that. She returned her attention to the offending cigarra in Aric's shirt pocket. Wait, Aric was the one that had wanted more of them, they were already pretty heavily intoxicated and in a strange area in an unknown cantina.

 

She froze, emerald eyes widening, the plant was a sedative in small doses, in larger it produced feelings of happiness and euphoria. Used medicinally by the Wookies, it was also used recreationally by those who didn't want to suffer from the harder withdrawals of processed spice, as well as slavers who wanted to subdue without fighting there soon to be victims.

 

Clutching the shirt to her she practically bolted to the kitchen, “Pierce,” she yelled as she entered the room. “Oh by the karking Void!” There curled up around the walker was one very sound asleep Imperial. “Bloody hell!” She yelled at the incapacitated man. Fuming she stalked from the room. How long had they been home? They were totally oblivious to everything around them, they had left the door wide open; hadn't even realized she was home until she spoke to them. Just how many of those things did they smoke? And where was that oh so nice salesmen who sold them the drug laced smokes? If her time estimation was at all right, they should be around here somewhere just waiting for her boys to pass out.

 

Yanking the cigarra free from the shirt she tossed the garment against the wall. Shoving the blasted brown wrapped problem into her robe pocket she Force pulled her saber hilt to her hand. Reaching out through the Force she felt for anything anyone new, ignoring the fuzzy warm signatures of the two comatose men slumbering away in the apartment. There near the door to the lift one floor below, three dimly lit nervous pulses. Reaching out she tried to gleam more, her ability paled compared to Jaesa's but she learned enough to act, those three were nervous, greedy and excited. As much as she hated to do this so close to their apartment, it was just unavoidable.

 

Pulling out her holocommunicator she thumbed a familiar frequency, a form blinked into view, his normally vibrant red skin dulled to a dark blue. “My Lord,” the Twi'lek bowed, “what do I owe this pleasure?” his thickly accented Basic filled the silence.

 

“Work I am afraid, there are three soon-to-be-departed slavers on the floor below mine, I shall need assistance in removing the trash.” She frowned at the man's projected image.

 

“Pity then, was hoping it might be a social call. I shall be along shortly.”

 

“Thank you Jy’lth.”

 

“Of course my Lord.” Jy'lith smiled at her before his blued image disappeared.

 

As if on queue, the lift doors opened. Stepping to the side and well out of view, she waited. They were noisy, the would-be kidnappers, jabbering on about profits and windfalls. She scowled listening to them counting aloud the credits they stood to make. They paused outside the open door. “Ahh, there is one of them. Look he thinks he's safe now that he's home,” a nasally voice laughed. The voice edged closer, “Look at them sparkling ears, told ya them fancy baubles in his ears were aurodium.”

 

Another voice raspy and nervous responded, “If he's wearing such fancy things, don't ya be thinking he might be missed?”

 

“Nonsense,” Mr. Nasally responded, “can't miss what ya can't find. Move quick, need to get them 'afor someone be seein' us.”

 

She stepped into the open doorway, stopping their entry.

 

“Aww what's this, little lady thinks she's gonna stop us. Boys get her it be a profitable day.”

 

She shook her head staring the mismatched crew down, Mr. Nasally was a Nitko, dressed in stained and ripped leathers. Flanking him was a green Rodian wearing what might have once passed as a white trenchcoat, now stained with things she would rather not imagine and a dark blue Nautolan who was emitting a rather intoxicating wave of fear. Seems there was at least one in this lot with some sense.

 

The Nautolan nervously backed up, “I'm not touching her.” His raspy voice confirming what she already suspected, he was the one unsure about the logic of this little endeavor.

 

Mr. Nasally growled, “Yes you are, pretty woman like that is comin' with us.” He gestured to the Rodian, “Get her and that Cathar. I already have buyers who be wanting the males.”

 

“Not anymore you don't,” her hand shot out and a sickening crunch filled the air. The Rodian's lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

 

“A damned Jedi,” Mr. Nasally hissed.

 

“No,” the Nautolan whispered, his dark skin paling. “Not a Jedi, Sith.” Shaking he stumbled backwards tripping over his own feet, falling with a thump to the floor.

 

“Sith, don't be ridiculous, she don' look like no Sith, she...” Mr. Nasally stopped speaking, voicelessly mouthing words as he stared at the blue plasma blade in his chest.

 

She turned towards the huddled alien, wordlessly deactivating the humming hilt in her hand. Ignoring the still gasping Nikto she walked toward the Nautolan. “Please,” he held his hands up, trying to ward off her advance. “Please, don't.” He pushed himself backwards, his ratty boots barely finding purchase on the hall's carpet. “Please, don't, I told them not to... that those two were not easy marks. But Boss,” he held out a trembling hand pointing at the now stilled Nikto, “he insisted we do it.”

 

“Please, I am sorry, I am. I didn't know he belonged to a Sith, had no way of knowin' he was your lover. I do now, I do, I can smell it, smell him on you.” He brought his hands up to his face, blocking the view of the slowly approaching Sith. Moments later his horribly shaking hands slowly lowered, large confused black eyes stared at her. “My... my L... Lord?” he swallowed hard.

 

She studied him as he lay quaking in a mass much smaller than his physical size would of deemed possible. “Find another line of work.” She raised her hand, palm parallel with the floor, neat manicured plum lacquered nails all in a row. “Or do you require a more permanent Persuasion?”

 

Confusion dripped off his face, her proposition slowly working its way through his fear addled brain. Eventually it sunk in and he began to push himself backwards, while stuttering. “Yes... yes my Lord, of course. It's to dangerous, way to dangerous. I... I never saw you, or your lover. Never saw his huge buddy neither. I... I don't even know where I am.” He managed to get his feet under his body, standing he gripped the wall. “New line of work, never seen you, any of you, thank... thank you my Lord.” He bolted down the hallway, listing as he ran. The freaked out Nautolan never even slowed when the lift's doors magically opened in front of him. He barreled into the waiting lift, disappearing from sight when Kit closed the doors.

 

She sighed, unconsciously picking up the hem of her robe as she stepped over the bodies cluttering the floor. Closing the door, she stopped to manually enter the door's code into the numpad, exhaling a small sigh when the locks slid into place. Returning her hilt to her hip she crossed the room to her slumbering lover. She looked down at him smiling, dreaming some drug-induced dream; blissfully unaware of the danger he and Pierce had been in. Sitting down next to him on the chaise she began to idly play with the fine fur along his neck; quietly she removed her boots tucking her feet up on the chaise lounge.

 

Tilting her head back, sinking into the lounge, she closed her eyes still caressing Aric's fur. Neither of those two had any idea of just how bad their mornings could have been; how bad her morning would have been. Aric shifted beneath her touch, a content rumble filled the air. She debated telling them in the morning, it would all hinge on if they had the ability to remember actually buying more cigarras. If they didn't she wouldn't bother, but she did know, for a while, there would be no more Huttball games.

 

 

 

 

 

AN

 

 

 

According to what I skimmed over on Wookieepedia -Nautolans possessed exceptional olfactory and pheromone-sensing skills, enhanced by head-tresses. These tendrils were used to detect the emotional state of another being, but were most effective underwater.-

 

I also totally made up the dreamroot bit, I didn't find what I was looking for on Wookieepedia. So I made up something that seemed plausible to me that fit the bill.

 

 

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Week of 1/3/2014

Why Are You Still Here? Companions are bound to you in game but your head canon may be very different. Did a companion reach the breaking point with one of your characters? Did any of them leave or even subsequently rejoin your crew? Is there a particular reason an unlikely partnership is working, or a reason that a great-on-paper partnership gets badly strained? Prompt suggested by Striges.

 

And, as ever,

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675.

 

This week's featured NotLP:

Affection - It's more than just a game mechanic. How do your characters show it, whether to their lover or their family or to their friends? Does it always have the intended effect, or do things get lost in translation?

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Week of 1/10/2014

You're Invited - Last week we talked about the companions who don't make much sense on our crew. This week let's look at other characters. We meet many NPCs during the class stories, and only some of them get to join our crews. Who would you have brought if the game let you recruit anybody? What NPCs did your character connect with but had to leave behind? Did you headcanon them as companions anyway? How did your adventures go differently with these extra cast members? These need not be from the class story. Pick anyone and write about why they’re on your personal version of your character’s crew. Prompt courtesy of Striges.

 

And, as ever,

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675.

 

This week's featured NotLP:

Fame - Your characters all end their class stories with a lot of newfound fame. How do they deal with it? Being recognized on the street, being on the news, finding themselves mentioned all over the HoloNet - it's got to be stressful. Alternatively, what if your characters met another famous person and had to deal with being starstruck?

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Week of 1/17/2014

Marketing – Somebody’s always trying to sell our characters something. Ads, promotions, coupons, flashy events, and more try to attract footsteps and wallets. Sometimes our characters are trying to sell something – be it services, unwanted equipment, or a cargo hold’s worth of hot merchandise. Besides all that, somebody’s got to be the face of advertising campaigns. Sometimes the advertising is right on and sometimes it’s…exaggerated. Write about your character’s experience with marketing.

 

And, as ever,

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675.

 

This week's featured NotLP:

Bad Timing - Sometimes, the worst thing about something is when it happens. Even a good thing can end up being not-so-great if the timing is wrong. Write about a time when your character had to deal with something that just plain came at the wrong time.

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Week of 1/24/2014

Synchronicity – Sometimes coincidences happen up close and sometimes they happen lightyears away. Sometimes it’s a plan clicking into place and sometimes it’s totally unintended. Sometimes it makes things seem like they’re meant to be…sometimes it makes it seem like they’re really not. Write about a time very similar events happened to your characters at the same time and possibly at a distance.

 

And, as ever,

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675.

This week's featured NotLP:

Sacrifice - What are your characters willing to sacrifice to achieve their goals?

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And now, ze prompt!

 

Week of 1/31/2014

Boring Conversation Anyway - Our characters talk to a lot of people. Sometimes these conversations end well. Sometimes they end...less well. Conversations may culminate in agreement, anger, happiness, thoughtfulness, kisses, or bloodshed…or get cut off before any satisfying conclusion is reached. Write about the way one of your characters' conversations ended. For better or worse, did it go differently in your alternate timeline?

 

And, as ever,

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675.

This week's featured NotLP:

Good/Bad Memories - Sometimes good memories can get your characters through hard times, sometimes bad memories are the extra push they use to move forward. What memories move your characters?

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  • 2 weeks later...

Bright asked me to provide the prompt this week. Alaurin had a great suggestion on tumblr, so here goes:

 

Week of 2/14/2014

Love Letters and Secret Valentines -- How do our characters stay in touch with the ones they love when they are far apart? Did they write romantic messages while they were courting? Has a new companion stumbled on some cherished correspondence with an old flame? Perhaps they never worked up the courage to express their feelings except in unsent letters or anonymous notes. In a romantic mood, what would your character write and to whom? Prompt courtesy of Alaurin.

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675.

This week's featured NotLP:

Best Day Ever - We've written about our characters' worst days; now write about their best days! A day when something wonderful happened, like finally beating your nemesis, or just a day when everything went really well for them, and how they reacted.

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Thank you Kabeone for starting and maintaining a story Index for both the SFC and SFC-AU. I took over the SFC Index last fall, but neglected this one.....apologies for that! Anyways, I'm copying what Kabeone started and will continue in the same format.

 

***The Prompt Archive and SFC Index, which includes SFC-AU, have been moved to their own thread which can be found here.***

Edited by alaurin
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Many apologies, I thought I posted the weekly prompt here right after the one in the main SFC thread.

 

Week of 2/21/2014

Where are they Now? -- As our characters move through their stories they change the lives of many others, most of whom we never see again. The Force-sensitive Flesh Raider on Tython. Seh-run, the Abyssin on Korriban. Zi’am on Hutta. Paul and his elderly parents on Ord Mantell. Whatever happened to them? Did they became stalwart allies or bitter rivals? If they died because of our character’s actions, do they have relatives looking for revenge? We often remark about how characters from early on in the stories show up later to help or hinder our characters, or how characters from different class stories make cameos in others. How about some of these forgotten ones?

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675.

This week's featured NotLP:

Xenobiology - Different species means more than different skin colors. It means different entirely different physiologies. Having friends whose bodies work so differently from your own can make things complicated, as everything from how you relax to how you dress and what your beauty rituals are (what is "lekku buffing", anyway?). How do your characters deal with differing biologies that they encounter?

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Uncharted Territory has been languishing in the land of I’m Busy With Other Things. It took this week’s prompt to get amorphous thoughts to gel into something coherent. So here’s a new bit.

 

Prompt: Where are They Now?

 

Characters: AU Kirya Bilali and Jesp Rixik, featuring Senator Vanara Kayl and Paus from the Where are They Now file.

 

Title: Second Chances

 

This story follows Both Sides Now, Parts One and Two. Many thanks to Alaurin for maintaining and updating the index.

 

Important reminder: Uncharted Territory contains massive spoilers for important plot points in the smuggler storyline, especially chapters 2 and 3. Including the summary. Yep, I’m spoilertastic.

 

Summary, since I haven't posted anything in this AU for nearly a year:

Shortly after recovering the Drayen treasure ship, Rixik noticed some odd activity in his and Kirya's identity files. Further investigation revealed the culprit was their ally, Darmas Pollaran, now a secretary for Senator Bevera Dodonna. And furthermore that Pollaran was no ally, but a deep cover agent of the Empire.

 

Rixik wanted to pressure Dodonna to support anti-slavery legislation for Kirya. Risha suggested a more subtle approach. She and Rixik traveled to Coruscant to meet with an old friend, the Jedi Master Sumalee. But it turned out Darmas moved first. He connected Jesp Rixik with his former identity as Shen, fugitive slave and Imperial convict. All Republic authorities were on alert for him. Waiting with Master Sumalee was Shariss Kartur, one of SIS's top agents.

 

But Rixik's motive was not what either Sumalee or Kartur expected. (new part here) Combined with a timely holo from Duke Charle Organa, whom Kirya and Rixik aided in the past, and a glowing reference from the Sullustan constable, Miel Muwn, both were convinced Rixik had indeed turned over a new leaf. Together, they hope to catch Darmas, the Senator, and the rest of his web in a clever sting that depends on Rixik’s least-developed skill: honesty.

 

 

 

 

Rixik closed the door to the Senator’s local office in the Old Galactic Market sector behind him. The lawless free-for-all he remembered from a few years back was gone, replaced with a struggling but close-knit community. Beings knew their neighbors. They waved at each other on the streets. He felt as out of place as a Mon Cal on Tatooine. He dropped the heavy, faux Jedi cowl hiding his face, “Junior Senator Kayl?” Rixik began.

 

The senator crossed her arms over her chest, “Excuse me if I don’t offer a seat. The last time we talked, I had to resign my position,” she said, “I only agreed to see you as a favor to Master Sumalee.”

 

Rixik shrugged, “I’d have been happy with the bribe. Kirya was the one who wanted honesty.”

 

“So it’s your wife’s fault? Convenient,” Junior Senator Kayl said.

 

“Now, I didn't say that,” Rixik denied, “You screwed up. You sell yourself to the syndicate, it’s damn hard to get free.”

 

Kayl uncrossed her arms, “Uncommonly honest,” she said.

 

“I know. Feels weird. There’s this guy in the back of my head screaming at me to shut the hell up,” Rixik acknowledged, twiddling his fingers beside one lekku.

 

“You should listen to him,” the junior senator said, “We’re done. You can go now.”

 

“Look, I get it,” Rixik said. He held up Sumalee’s Republic security alert datacard. It showed his status as in detention, awaiting transport. Pollaran must have called in a few favors. He skipped the irritating trial phase and sent him direct to Belsavis, wherever that was. Must be some nasty rimward penal colony. He’d never heard of it. “I got it from the first. I think we can help each other.”

 

Junior Senator Vanara Kayl took the card from him. As she read the crawl a smile grew on her face. Then she tittered. Finally she laughed and said, “So what, you escaped custody and you expect me to sneak you off planet or something?”

 

“Nope. Technically, I’m still in custody. SIS knows where I am,” he said, “Even now.”

 

The sentator’s gaze returned to the card. “All this is true?” she asked.

 

“Every word,” Rixik agreed, taking the card from her, “Hell, I’ve done stuff they don’t know about yet.”

 

“This is rich,” Kayl said, “You think I’m going to get you a pardon?”

 

“Nope,” Rixik said.

 

“Then what?” she asked, wiping a tear from her eye, “One holo and you’re through.”

 

“I want you to introduce this legislation,” he said. He removed the datapad with the proposal he and Kirya drafted from an inner fold of his disguise and handed it to her. “I want you to collect co-sponsors. Take credit for the thing. Make it yours. Do all the press conferences, get all the publicity. Make it big news. Leave me out of it. Completely, not a word. But when you bring it to the senate floor, you have to let me speak in favor. As part of the evidence testimonial. As professional witness or whatever.”

 

“Expert witness,” Kayl corrected.

 

“If that’s what you call it. Everything I know about the Republic Senate I learned from joke cards in Hutt candy packages,” Rixik said. “You have to let me speak in favor of this thing, in public, on the floor of the senate.”

 

Junior Senator Kayl lapsed into hysteria. When the spell passed she asked, “Why would I do that?”

 

“Senator Dodonna’s in bed with an Imperial spy. Literally. I think you know him. Darmas Pollaran,” Rixik said.

 

“Her press secretary?” Senator Kayl asked.

 

“Is that what she calls him? I don’t get Core news,” Rixik said, “Anyway, I caught him snooping in my record and he set the authorities on me, but not before I gave him up to the SIS. SIS wants him but he’s clever as hell,” Rixik said. He went on, the words pouring out like whisky from a decanter, “Her whole privateer thing is a cover to promote Imperial interests at the expense of the Republic. Don’t know what Dodonna’s price was or how far she’s prepared to go, but I’m sure she doesn't give a damn about the Republic or its people. She’ll never go for this law. She’ll have to oppose it. That means she’ll call in favors, bribe people, get some behind the scenes help from her lover. SIS can follow all that. They can catch him and his whole network.”

 

Junior Senator Vanara Kayl was silent for a minute. “You’re serious,” she said at last.

 

“I am,” Rixik agreed, “By the way, your clearance just got upgraded.”

 

“Your whole story is true,” she said. Not a question this time.

 

“Absolutely,” Rixik said, “I told you. Got this whole honest thing going. I could make up a dozen stories twice as believeable in a heartbeat.”

 

Kayl looked over the proposal, “I don’t understand. Whether this passes or not, I get a lot of publicity, a lot of donations, a lot of press looking at me. I can use that. More than you know. What do you get out of it?”

 

Rixik pointed at the datapad, “That bill was my price for the codes I gave the SIS to get Pollaran. It’s what Kirya wants. Look, Vanara--”

 

“That’s Senator Kayl,” she corrected, bristling.

 

Junior Senator Kayl,” Rixik continued, “I’m not the guy on that crawl. Not anymore. I can’t fix the past. I can’t erase or change it. But I can do something better with the rest of my life. I think you understand that. Why else would you be back in the senate, taking only little donations from constituents and publishing all your donors? You want to do the right thing. This?” he tapped the pad with one finger, “this is the right thing.”

 

Senator Kayl set the datapad down on her plastiform desk, textured to look like Kashyyyk ebony, “Why do you want to be the expert witness?”

 

“I don’t, really,” Rixik admitted, “I like being anonymous. But I’m assured that putting a face on this thing will get it passed. Get you even more publicity. The whole reformed-villain thing. Press love that. And in the public eye--”

 

“Pollaran can’t touch you,” Junior Senator Kayl completed for him, “Or Kirya.”

 

“Got it in one. Nice working with someone who understands these things,” Rixik said with a grin, “I’ll probably still end up in detention for a while but I can deal with that.” He suppressed a shiver. He could deal with it, but he didn't relish the thought. “After all, I’m supposed to be in a cell on a ship heading for some crappy penal planet. Duke Charle Organa will run messages for me when that happens. And before. Don’t want to take chances.”

 

“Duke Charle Organa?” Senator Kayl asked.

 

"He owes me a favor," Rixik said.

 

"Must be some favor," the senator said.

 

"You can ask him about it. He's due to arrive in three days," Rixik said. The junior senator fell silent. Alderaan still didn't have a vote in the Senate, but associating with their noble houses carried plenty of prestige. Organa in particular. Rixik could see the wheels turning in her head. Weighing options, playing through scenarios, deciding whether the risk was worth the potential rewards. Deciding whether he was telling the truth or not. Vanara Kayl had high ideals. She also had a ruthless, practical streak he admired.

 

“Senator Kayl,” Rixik began after letting her compute for a time, “The Migrant Merchant’s Guild was a thin front for the Black Sun. Those guys send baby-eating Houk goon squads after people who defy them. You stood up to them. Then you turned around and ran for the same seat you lost on corruption charges. And won. The people you represent respect guts. They know how hard it is to get out of slavery. Some of them are barely one step away. This is legislation they’d appreciate. You have a chance to make a real difference for a lot of people.”

 

The senator refocused on him with a wry smile, “You’re good.”

 

Rixik returned it, “No one sucks up to power like a Nar Shaddaa Twi’lek.”

 

Vanara Kayl snickered, true amusement this time, “Baby-eating Houk goons was a bit much.”

 

“I wasn't exaggerating,” Rixik said, “though to be fair, they’d sell anyone out of diapers rather than eat them.”

 

The senator’s eyes went back to the datapad. “Why? Not the shadow-assassin act. Why are you really doing this? You never struck me as patriotic. Or selfless, for that matter.”

 

Rixik turned away from the senator, studying the plain office wall, “I made a promise to Kirya a long time ago. We tried, once. Ended up with a gang kid dead in our apartment. After that she helped me have my dream. Sirocco. Now it’s my turn.”

 

Vanara Kayl stared at his back for a while, “That’s all?”

 

“Thought you might be interested in exposing some serious corruption,” he glanced over his shoulder, “turning the tables always feels good.”

 

She took a breath, “All right,” she agreed, “I’ll introduce your legislation. If it makes it to the floor, I’ll be sure you give expert testimony. And that it’s public and broadcasted.”

 

Rixik turned back to her, “Thank you.”

 

“Don’t,” Junior Senator Vanara Kayl said, “Laws are like budget nutrient bars. If you like them, don’t ever watch them being made.”

 

 

 

 

The message alert on Paus’ small tabletop holoterminal barked at him. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. It barked again in short order. He cracked one eye open and searched out the chrono. Late morning. Probably his editor complaining he hadn’t received the puff piece on the reopening of the Old Galactic Market. What a steaming pile of poodoo.

 

The alert yipped a third time. Paus threw his pillow at it and sent it clattering to the floor. He was an investigative journalist. Public interest stories were junk. They barely paid the bills.

 

Of course, investigative journalism didn’t pay anything at all right now.

 

The terminal yapped again, hollow and muffled beneath the pillow. “All right, all right,” he complained. Paus rolled out of bed and kicked the pillow off the upturned receiver. He seized it up and set it back on the counter. The message wasn’t from his editor. It was encrypted. Untraceable. What the--

 

A text-only message appeared in the viewable field:

 

Greetings, Journalist Paus, (it read)

 

You and I share an interest in exposing corruption. Reply within a standard day if this record intrigues you. There’s more where it came from.

 

--Princess

 

Attached was an accounting record for...a senate page. Detailing his massive losses at the Dealer’s Den sabacc tables. Far more than he could afford to lose on a page’s salary. If the numbers were correct, it was more than he made on a page’s salary. How could he do--

 

Paus noticed the dates. The page’s gambling problems started about three years ago, corresponding to the some heated debates on whether the Republic should consider an alliance with the Empire. he racked his brain for the lead senator’s name. He’d been obsessed with exposing the Justicars as Imperial sympathizers at the time. What a disaster. Of course, if he’d thought about it, proving the influential Lysannis family had ties to the Black Sun syndicate was the real coup. That’s what he should have done. He had the footage right in his hands and he--

 

Parvil. Senator Parvil. That was the name. And look at who the indebted page served. Still served. A page who lost big at sabaac, his senator taking a radical stand at about the same time.

 

Paus dropped the pillow back over the holoterminal. The last time he went after a sure thing he ended up a laughing stock. And in debt up to his eyeballs. No. Not this time. He wasn’t going to be fooled by coincidence again.

 

Paus flopped back on the bed, not bothering with the threadbare sheets. He flipped on his side. Then back the other way.

 

Dealer’s Den cantina was a center of crime and all things rotten. Rumors were the proprietor bribed the liquor council with illegal imports to keep his license or he’d have been out of business a long time ago. Things settled down a little after some shady information broker operating from one of the back rooms moved out. What was his name?

 

Piquant?

 

Pullet?

 

Pollard?

 

Pollaran.

 

Paus sat straight up, nearly knocking his head on a ratty lamp. Darmas Pollaran was Senator Bevera Dodonna’s secretary now. What did the Jedi say? Coincidence was the Force showing the true face of things?

 

He pulled up a chair to the pockmarked counter and typed out a frantic text reply:

 

Princess--Very interested. Can we meet? ---Paus

 

Her reply came almost immediately:

 

--Not yet. Here’s some more. Take some time to look it over and verify it through your own sources. Contact me again when you’re satisfied. We have a lot to discuss.--Princess

 

--I can't afford to pay much for your information--Paus

 

--I don’t want money, Paus. I want the truth to come out--Princess

Paus stared at the data. It was too good to be true. It had to be. No way an opportunity this good would just fall into his lap. The first rule of journalism was anything too good to be true probably was.

 

No, that was the first rule of not getting scammed. The first rule of journalism was verify your facts.

 

Sitting on a grimy chair at the counter, Paus examined the records. He could set up cross-checks for a lot of these items pretty easy.

 

The holo barked at him. The ID said it was his editor. Probably complaining about the poodoo public interest piece.

 

Paus ignored it. He had some real journalism to do.

 

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New Prompt Day

 

Week of 2/28/2014

Inheritance -- We’ve looked at antiques and heirlooms our characters possess. We’ve looked at legacies, both as a game mechanic and as something your character hopes to leave behind. But what about things they inherit? The things that follow them whether they like it or not. A noble or reviled name? Some nebulous family curse (mother never did say what it entailed). Maybe they’re heir to a throne they don’t want, or were passed over for one they desperately did. Perhaps it’s the family farm, the family business, or perhaps it’s literally nothing at all. What sorts of things or have your characters inherited, and how did they deal with them? Prompt courtesy of LaxKnight.

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675.

This week's featured NotLP:

Disguises - Sometimes our characters have to gain entry to places that it's not easy to get into. What's a good strategy? A disguise, of course! Write about a time in which your character had to pretend to be someone or something else, and how they dealt with trying to be convincing.

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New Prompt Day!

 

Week of 3/7/2014

Why They Fight--and Why They Don’t -- Characters manage to get into all kinds of altercations, large and small. Fights. But why? Not the easy answers: for the Empire, for the Republic, for family or the Force or bad luck any of the other reasons they might give to themselves or others. Why does your character choose to fight? Under what circumstances do they choose violence as a solution, and where do they draw the line? Even the cowards and the pacifists have reasons for their choices, and borders they will not cross. Explore it. Prompt and link courtesy of Kabeone.

 

For a more complete essay, read Why We Fight by Michi on tumblr.

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250864&postcount=4734and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250865&postcount=4735 (yes, we’re up to two full posts!).

This week's featured NotLP:

Worlds Colliding - Our characters fly all over the galaxy and meet people from many different worlds - metaphorically and literally. Relationships, friendships, and partnerships can develop, which often results in those two very different spheres of living coming together - which can be tough to navigate. Write about a time when your character's world met up with another's, and how they reacted.

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New Prompt Day!

 

Week of 3/14/2014

Life has no Reset Button -- Your character makes decisions every day, from minor ones, like what to wear, to vital important ones that change lives. Whether to capture or kill a prisoner. To stay with a partner or break up. To follow an order or disobey. They do the best they can under pressure and with limited information. What choices do they regret? Which ones might they do differently, now that they’ve had time to reflect? Would they make the same choice, knowing the consequences? Or are they even more sure now that they made the right decision?

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250864&postcount=4734and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250865&postcount=4735 (yes, we’re up to two full posts!).

 

This week's featured NotLP:

Disguises - Sometimes our characters have to gain entry to places that it's not easy to get into. What's a good strategy? A disguise, of course! Write about a time in which your character had to pretend to be someone or something else, and how they dealt with trying to be convincing.

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This week, another prompt in two parts:

 

Week of 3/21/2014

Part One: Luminous Beings We Are -- Life is bound up, figuratively and literally, with light. Whether it's the physical study, the Light Side, or the dawning at the most unexpected times, we may find light altering the living space, illustrating the spirit, or showing the way. Write about your character's interaction with light. Prompt courtesy of BrightEphemera.

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250864&postcount=4734and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250865&postcount=4735 (yes, we’re up to two full posts!).

 

This week's featured NotLP:

Food - Everyone has to eat, and food is a major part of many cultures. It's part of your heritage and the memories you have of your family and friends. In a diverse galaxy, there are thousands of different things to eat and ways to prepare them, as well as traditions and customs involving food. Write about your characters' experiences in those realms.

 

 

Sneak preview for next week: Darkness!

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Last week, our prompt was Luminous Beings We Are, exploring our characters’ relationship with light. This week, Part Two:

 

Week of 3/28/2014

Forever Will It Dominate Your Destiny - On the other hand, darkness is the figurative and literal opposite and complement to light. Whether it's the physical state, the Dark Side, or some kind of ignorance, we may find darkness concealing what we need, dirtying what it touches, or hiding on the unexpected flip side of something. Write about your character's interaction with darkness. Thank you, BrightEphemera, for this pair of prompts.

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250864&postcount=4734and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250865&postcount=4735 (yes, we’re up to two full posts!).

 

This week's featured NotLP:

Loneliness and Solitude - Our characters end up with crews of interesting folks, but that doesn't mean they never feel lonely. When you're up against some of the biggest forces in the galaxy, it's hard not to feel alone. That said, sometimes being alone is a blessing - some well-deserved solitude is a wonderful thing when you need it. Write about a time in which your character felt lonely - or when they finally got some time to themselves.

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Friday, Prompt Day.

 

Week of 4/4/2014

Passing On - “How we face death is at least as important as how we face life.” No one is truly immortal. Even those who have conquered aging and disease still have to deal with the inevitable dangers of combat and the perils of an adventuring life. What happens when death finally catches up with your character? Maybe a near miss gives her pause, an unwelcome reminder of mortality. Does he go out with a bang, a whimper, or quietly in his sleep? What happens to the ones left behind? This prompt courtesy of Mirdthestrill. (Quote courtesy Star Trek 2, The Wrath of Khan, at the risk of crossing fandom streams.)

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250864&postcount=4734and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250865&postcount=4735 (yes, we’re up to two full posts!).

 

This week's featured NotLP:

Seasons - In space there are no seasons. But in a galaxy of thousands of worlds, it's every possible season at once, and not just the four temperature-variation ones. Write about some of the seasons your characters have experienced.

Edited by Striges
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The last several prompts have been a bit dark or serious. Now for something completely different.

 

Week of 4/11/2014

Laughing Fit- Humor is universal and yet also individual. What leaves one person in stitches falls flat for another for reasons of cultural or personal experience. Everyone’s funny bone is a little different. What about your characters? What makes them laugh? Do they have favorite comedians? Favorite parodies? Farce? Cat videos? There’s plenty of humor in everyday things as well. Maybe an amusing juxtaposition of events sets them off, a misspelled or misread sign, or a companion taking a pratfall. Write about a time when your character couldn’t stop laughing. Prompt suggested by Frauzet for Alaurin, who needs some laughter this week.

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250864&postcount=4734and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250865&postcount=4735 (yes, we’re up to two full posts!).

 

This week's featured NotLP:

Tools of the Trade - We all use tools in our everyday lives, whether it be a skill like one's persuasive powers, equipment like one's weaponry, or the right bit of knowhow to solve the problem without the need for that weaponry. Write about the tools that your characters depend on...or the ones they avoid using.

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New week, new prompt!

 

Week of 4/18/2014

...And Taxes- It’s said that death and taxes are the only certainties. We covered death in a recent prompt, so how about taxes? Both the Empire and Republic are huge, with countless fees, license requirements, and just plain old taxes. Hutt space is independant, but it still has to run. Does your character accept taxes as part of the cost of doing business, find ways to minimize the bill, or skip it altogether and hope no one notices? Write about your character’s encounters with taxes, fees, tariffs, and other means of government fund-raising.

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250864&postcount=4734and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7250865&postcount=4735 (yes, we’re up to two full posts!).

 

This week's featured NotLP:

Deadly Sins - Everyone struggles with one of them at some point: wrath, pride, envy, lust, gluttony, greed, and sloth. Sometimes they spur us on to do good things. Other times, they hurt us and others. Write about your characters' struggles with the worst sins of them all.

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