swtorramblings

[swtorramblings]

Siblings

[swtorramblings]

Siblings

[swtorramblings]

The curator of the museum of champions when it has to walk among us in the galaxy.

Baby Yoda & Vaylin

Art by @fleeting-sanity

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Story by @swtorramblings

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- *** - MANDALORIAN SPOILERS - *** - In a galaxy far, far away, where a fateful decision was never made, or perhaps the other path was chosen. Its charges spun past in their millions, and it evaluated each. Eliminate this one, set that one aside to examine again, these not strong enough, those not clever enough. Many simply had no reason to do the task at hand, would not connect if chosen. So many to choose from, but the deal had been struck for one, and only one. As always. Heroes. Villains. Mercenaries. Monsters. An eon of champions, all taken at the moment of death, or soon after. Stored here so their uniqueness would not be lost, so they could be sent out into the galaxy again. Nudging fate itself to stave off disaster, or, rarely, to cause it. A choice of millions was slowly narrowed to thousands, to dozens, and finally to one. It was well enough pleased, though there was a risk. The selection had power enough for the task, but risked madness killing what the custodian was attempting to protect. The probabilities were strongest with this choice, however. Appendages glided over the ancient controls, sending the confirmation, arranging for what would come next. *** She finally woke. How long had it been? She had no idea. She felt her eyelids flutter open, but she couldn’t see. She had no idea where she was. She barely had memories of who she was. And what memories of herself she did have were only of pain. She tried set aside that puzzle for the moment. She could hear machinery, a pump. The air was being circulated through the room. Cooled. She sat up, feeling the cushion beneath her, groping around for some clue, some assurance that any of this was real. Her hands closed on a container, and she clumsily opened it, spilling some of the contents. Fresh water. She guzzled it, relieving the throat she hadn’t realized was parched. She realized she could feel a strange pressure in her mind, something powerful drawing her to it. It wasn’t calling, she didn’t think, not purposely, but she felt it all the same. And it was afraid and in pain. The feeling was unbearable. She needed to find the source and end it, before it drove her mad. She found a strange sense of amusement in that, and it unsettled her. Her vision was slowly returning. She found packaged nutrient bars on a small table, and ate them as greedily as she had drank the water. A set of robes hung nearby. They seemed familiar, perhaps something from her past. Better times? Maybe, in a way, but painful, too. She examined herself, saw the scars. The skin was firm and whole now, but she had been badly injured, that was obvious. No. She had been killed. That wasn’t right, was it? How was she here now? Again, she pushed those thoughts down. She could not deal with them now. Something about the robes made her anxious, but she did not think she could go out in the bedclothes she currently wore, so she changed. She had to hurry. The pain was growing. She wondered if she could just allow the source to die? She couldn’t take the chance, it might drag her down with it. There was a small pack hanging next to the clothes. A bit of what she thought must be money, more water, more food. Oddly, some toiletries, though she supposed that was helpful, just prosaic. Basics for living for maybe a week, two if she was careful. No weapons, though, not that it mattered. She had no strength, she could barely walk. Getting the door to open was a test of her concentration. She wasn’t going to win if she got into a fight. She slung the pack onto her shoulder. A flash of memory. She went armed once, and letting her guard down had cost her. Her hand not being filled now made her uncomfortable. She shook her head and left the little apartment. It had been clean and cool, the city was dirty and hot, with mud and sludge on the streets she walked down. She began to perspire. Another flash of memory, a comfortable life, even a happy one. A bright smile. Some might even say she was coddled, except she knew that it wasn’t true. Darker memories attempted to crowd her mind. The focused again on her hunt. Here. This was where she would find what had called. Something told her the inhabitants wouldn’t let her in. That trying to gain entrance would lead to violence. How to enter? How to live through it? She could see herself again, standing defiant, power swirling around her. It hadn’t been enough. She didn’t want to die, but the pain had become unbearable. She thought she would welcome the relief. No. She felt the grin form. If anyone was going to die, it wouldn’t be her. Not in this place. Not to these. Because, as fragmented as her memories still were, she remembered one thing clearly. The power. She gestured and the heavy door crumpled and was blasted off its moorings. There was a cry as it crashed into a guard, and she stepped across the threshold. With that, half a dozen soldiers in white armor emerged, leveling heavy weapons at her. One of them fired, and she instinctively turned the bolt back, blasting him off his feet, leaving an ugly black hole in the front of his armor. She looked down at the trooper, realizing she had just killed him. This didn’t bother her, but he had intended that fate for her. If she hadn’t reacted, instantly, instinctively, with a power she hadn’t known she had, that would have been her on the floor. That momentary panic returned, and worse, the pulse of fear she had felt since waking now mixed with her own. She remembered not fearing death, as long as it came on her own terms, as long as she could die fighting. Now was different. Now she was afraid. She screamed. Blaster rifles shredded, shards of armor sprayed against the walls, along with blood. Some of them might live. It didn’t matter. Clutching her head, she walked on through the hidden base. The first thing she saw was the machine, a black sphere, floating toward her. She recognized it, knew what it’s purpose was. A machine made only for torture. The fear became rage. How dare they? A moment of lightning, and the thing’s melted husk fell to the floor. At least she was a fast learner. There was a man there, terrified, backing away. His cries made her angry. She felt there was something she should do. She lifted a hand, heard him begin to choke. Good. She needed quiet. She looked him in the eyes, saw the fear up close. She smiled again, lifted him into the air with this power. Wanted to see the life pass from him. A flick of the wrist, and it would be over. The fear returned. Not hers, now, but of her. It could sense her, knew what she felt, knew her power, and rejected her. Strangely, it hurt. She did not know why she should care, but she did. She dropped the man, went to the source of the feelings. It was strange, and she sensed it was older than it looked, but it was still a child. A child these people had hurt, and planned to hurt more. She was sure of it. She understood, also, that he was meant to be made a weapon, and that if it wasn’t possible, he would die. She took up the child and walked back out onto the street, which quickly became filled with mercenaries and greed. She barely noticed. A cocoon of power formed around her and the child, reflecting the rain of death back on them. She had been afraid, but had a growing awareness that there was no one and nothing here that could stop her progress, no power to match her own. No, that wasn’t true. There were those who could challenge her, they simply were not choosing to appear. These? She could break them all, easily, and she wanted to. She was still who she had been, a monster, and would cause pain and death with glee. Now, though, in this moment, she simply didn’t care. She would not allow this child to go through what she had. She didn’t know why she thought that, but she knew she wouldn’t let him become what she was. *** Once the child creature was safe, she was finally able to concentrate. Its needs had intruded on her consciousness and made it impossible to even begin to recover, to get her bearings. Now, though her memories were still distant, she could function, plan, not just react. Her instincts had allowed her to survive so far, but she didn’t want to rely on them or raw power forever. She had walked to the tiny space port, acquired a ship. Who was there to tell her no? She was not a good pilot, but she could reach space, then let the computers do the rest. At least, that’s what she had thought. She had a vision of where she wanted to go, but it was not in the star charts. She had to coerce the computer to make the calculations necessary to reach her destination. First, she made the jump to hyperspace to some random backwater, just so they wouldn’t be disturbed. Nothing looked the same. How much time had passed? Much. Everything she had any memory of at all was gone. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She was forgotten. Her world was forgotten. And yet, she felt nothing but some slight annoyance over the inconvenience of it all. Still, this was good. Being forgotten meant another layer of protection. Finally, they had arrived to the place she felt so much connection with. They had flown over the forgotten world, even she could not remember its name, at least not yet. Looking over the vast swampland that took up most of its land mass, it made her strangely content. It took some time, but she found the overgrown remains of ancient cities. There had been a civilization here, she knew that, but it had long since fallen, or perhaps the people had simply left, becoming part of the wider galaxy. It was perfect. She landed the ship, happy to not crash into the trees. She set up a camp of sorts, though she planned to use the ship for shelter. She finally brought the child out, and wondered what she should do with him. She had no idea how to care for him. She had no idea if she wanted to. Maybe she should have dropped him somewhere on the way. She just looked down at the child, wondering what she had gotten herself into. He had power, like hers. That’s what had drawn her in the first place. She wondered who was stronger, and why it even mattered. Now, that power flared, and it reached out. She flinched, shut her eyes, sure that it could only mean he was going to attempt to harm her. That’s all the power was good for, after all, and she wasn’t ready. She felt something, stroking her hair. She opened one eye. The comb, from the bag left by her unknown benefactor, was smoothing the tangled mess her hair had become since she had woken in that strange room. It was a small gesture, almost meaningless, but it still made her smile, gently, slightly. Maybe they could make this work, after all. —–

[swtorramblings]

I do wish people would stop pretending that Leia being a princess meant that she wasn't also a rebel leader and a badass.

From the other side of things, that people would stop calling her "bossy" (or worse things beginning with "b") when if she were a dude they would call her "take charge".

I'm in a bad mood. Something had to give.

[swtorramblings]

Saw this about Arcane and had to laugh sadly:

"Not having all happy endings makes the show feel more realistic. It sucks. But it was right"

There were, at best, bittersweet endings.

[swtorramblings]

I am a bit annoyed by her fate, it's just not incandescent. Someone who survived what she did and had an echo of the former big boss in her head trying to make up for her past was a great character concept that seems to have been wasted.

I do feel as though Captain Mai Trin fell into a subset of "redemption equals death": She couldn't ever convince people she had changed unless she died for the cause, and that's just extra sad.

[swtorramblings]

I do feel as though Captain Mai Trin fell into a subset of "redemption equals death": She couldn't ever convince people she had changed unless she died for the cause, and that's just extra sad.

[swtorramblings]

The Eternal Empire and The Eternal Alliance

Happy with how my swtor sims are turning out! Valkorion could use some more wrinkles though...

Valkorion's Hair and Outfit, Senya's Outfit, Vaylins’s Hair, Theron's Hair, and Cat Eye Makeup are all from the incredible @cursedbeasts-cc !

[swtorramblings]

I freely admit that it gives me some comfort that people are still trying to capture Vaylin's appearance as best they can in SWTOR.

[swtorramblings]

Crossover idea: Toph as Peridot's Metal Bending teacher.

[swtorramblings]

I probably wouldn't have reblogged this except in the tags it had:

GIVE US VAYLIN BACK FOR FUCK'S SAKE!

i think i want swtor to lose all shame and start ramping up the nostalgia. broadsword start working with all the loose ends bioware didn't kill and squeeze every good thing the agent and inquisitor storyline did and just give it to everyone, who cares if it makes sense.

i'm so tired of legacy of the sith following what was popular in the tv shows (which ate themselves thrice over before swtor could finish off a single expac). it should become an ouroboros of itself not on other (worse... imo) parts of the franchises.

c'mon you're grown. you're 13 years old and kotfe is going to be 10 years old in october. give us 10 minutes of nostalgia before updates are shut down completely.

[swtorramblings]

The seasonal quest is In Pursuit of Eggcelence, and I can't help but hear it in Vincent Price's voice while he played Egghead on Batman.

[swtorramblings]

Vaylin, Jinx, and Azula, standing in a circle, pointing at one another.

[swtorramblings]

They finally did it, they filled a Galactic Season with just too many things I'm just not wanting to do, so at last I am free.

[swtorramblings]

[swtorramblings]

I've brought the wine!

[swtorramblings]

While trying to reduce my Google Drive space used, it looks like I have accidentally deleted forever all the stories and art I've been letting collect there for years, so everything I haven't uploaded is just gone. It reached out and removed it all from my hard drive when I tried to unlink them, instead of removing them from Google like I wanted to, after I previously backed up everything from the Google drive to mine.

I'm calling it user error, though the fact that such an error can happen at all feels like poor design. Live and learn. Most of the stories and all the art I've gotten is uploaded to one site or another, so that's good, at least. And personal photos that I had saved there appear to also be elsewhere, which is honestly the bigger worry I had.

:(