#Nashtah

[sw5w]

Aurra Sing Watches the Racers Pass

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:01:11

[i-have-zero-social-skills]

Another Excerpt From The Timeline Fic For My AU

23 BBY (977 ARR): All the Jedi feel a massive disturbance in the Force that is clearly Dark in origin. 

Masters Mace Windu, Even Piell, Coleman Trebor, K’Kruhk, Neeja Halcyon, An’ya Kuro, Yan Dooku, Shaak Ti, T’ra Saa, and Yaddle, as well as Padawan Anakin Skywalker are sent to investigate it.

They are able to find that this disturbance originated on the planet Ziost, so they travel there. Upon arriving, they further narrow down the location of the disturbance to ancient ruins of a massive structure. While exploring these ruins, they are attached by ten Sith Apprentices: A white haired Human man, a Chiss woman, a Near-Human woman, an Umbaran woman, a Human woman with burn scars on her face, a Korunnai man, a young Human woman, an Anzati man, a Twi’lek man, and a middle aged Human woman. Coleman Trebor is killed in the fight with the Sith Apprentices, and Masters An’ya Kuro and Yan Dooku find their former Padawans among the Sith Apprentices, while Mace Windu discovers that one of the Sith Apprentices is his long-lost brother. All three Masters are able to put their complicated emotions aside, and do their duty as Jedi after they realize that all the Sith Apprentices are past the point of being reasoned with. During the fight, Darth Nashtah kills herself in an attempt to hurt An’ya Kuro one last time when she realizes she can’t win. After all the Apprentices are dealt with, the Master reveals himself to be the same Muun Sith the Jedi fought on Coruscant.

Through a powerful Light Side power called the Wall of Light, the Sith Master is quickly defeated by the Jedi, but he is able to kill Master Neeja Halcyon.

After the Sith have been defeated, the Jedi explore the ruins, and find two infants. A boy and a girl. The children are taken to the Temple on Tannalor and named Luke and Leia.

[templado-rex]

Just Bossk in his pajamas :”D

[sbnkalny]

Far-reaching implications. In short, please send me all about it

[sinisterexaggerator]

A reader who's a scientists and inventor who highers Bane to be her escort at a big reveal ceremony and gala to keep her and her new revolutionary invention safe (probably some war tech!). Lots of live jazz music (sorry, jizz music), fancy wears (cocktail gowns and dresses and nice suits). While she is an inventor she is also classy, sensual and seems to know more street smart then one would think. Either night goes smoother than expected or a gun to the head kind of situation.

Happily Obliged! I had waaaaaaay too much fun with this! 

I had to post to AO3

Part 2 can be found here.

----

Explicit! 

Warnings: Oral sex.

Note: “ Lizards smell stuff with their tongues! Just like snakes, a lizard sticks out its tongue to catch scent particles in the air and then pulls back its tongue and places those particles on the roof of its mouth, where there are special sensory cells. The lizard can use these scent “clues” to find food or a mate or to detect enemies. “

-----

The Justifier took up more airspace than was … justified, and it was right outside your luxury penthouse in the middle of Imperial City on Coruscant. You walked to your balcony to see your hired mercenary, though traditionally he was in a different line of work – he was a Bounty Hunter.

Cad Bane had been bought off by Lord Vader to be your escort; you were in personal contact with him, as you were “Chief Design Engineer” on a top-secret project - a starship - it was Onager class. He spoke of personal experience, though you knew nothing of what that entailed; he would have escorted you to the gala affair himself, but he was part of the Emperor's security detail.

Until now, it had been shrouded in secrecy. Its capabilities were second to none within the current arsenal of the rising Empire. The Clone Wars had ended, but there were still Separatist holdouts that remained on worlds throughout the galaxy; they had to be taken care of. People were rowdy, out of control, out of order; they didn’t want to submit to their new ruler, though it may be what’s in their best interest. It was a Star Destroyer. Your source of power had been two-ton Kyber crystals. It came equipped with a full arraignment; It had Orbital Bombardment Particle Cannons that were your pride and joy.

He had been warned this was a formal, but he had shown up wearing some Nashtah-hide tunic and a heavy duster. He had on a leather hat, which the circumference might as well have been double the size of any you’d ever seen, and of all things he was chewing on a toothpick that was nestled between sharp teeth.

You almost cringed as you stared at him, dressed in a tight little number that was a hue that nearly complimented the man’s skin and matched his horizontal, ovular shaped eyes. It was red, shimmery, and you wore black pumps that accentuated the muscles of your calves. Your hair was coiffed elaborately for the occasion, and strands of it framed your fetching features.

Bane nearly let the toothpick fall from his thin line of a mouth seeing who his client was for the evening, but he caught it with the edge of his elongated tongue - witnessing the little bit of pink flick so fast in the air like that sent a shiver down your spine - you wondered what else it could do.

“He'llo dhere, lil’ lady. Cad Bane … at yer sser'vice.” He tipped that gigantic hat of his before returning it to its proper position atop his smooth, somewhat rounded head. He had a brow ridge that protruded over alluring deep-red pools; they were fathomless, like Alderaanian wine, perhaps, but even redder.

“Yer bills al'ready been paid in advhance so Ah’m aht'cher disposal, however ye' see fit.” His voice was husky, though somewhat mechanical; it reverberated inside his throat. He had an accent you suspected was Durosian, though you had never met one of his kind before. Normally, you weren’t attracted to other species, maybe a Chiss had caught your eye, but Bane was almost a prettier shade of blue, and that tone of his, the intonations were doing something to you.

“Ye' jus’ gonna stare aht me like dhat all night, or are ya’ ready te' go?” He plucked the toothpick from his mouth and tossed it over the edge of his seasoned starship, reaching out a hand for you to be lifted up onto his open hatch; he was casually leaning against one of the automatic door’s hydraulic arms, his fingers adorned in cutoff gloves. They were lithe, and his hands were large.

"Staring's fine..." you simpered, hardly hiding it - you’d heard about him - the fastest gun in all the Galaxy; he was more proficient than even Jango Fett had been. You wondered how proficient he was at other things. The thought of it sent prickles along your epidermis, and Bane seemed to notice as he made a comment to you, catching you off guard.

“My … species has'a raather power'ful sense o'smell. Ah don’ know if ye' were a'ware o'dis, but yer radiatin' pheromones strong 'nough t'attract a Wookie - 'course dhat's not t'say Ah mind."

You gasped aloud, though the sound was soft; you dared to admit you were mildly aroused until he interrupted your train of thought by yelling out to an unknown service droid. “Todo! Keep de ship steady! Don’t wanna lose our lil’ guest b'fore we’ve even left yet!”

You had one foot on the platform as he whisked you forward, making sure you didn’t tumble to your death below. He kept one hand around your waist as he guided you along, a single digit pressing the hatch door closed as he ushered you towards the somewhat cramped cockpit of his transit.

“Hav’a seat. Ah won’ bite …” His words were a drawl, a hypnotic song inside your ear. 

"Drat." It came out much too quickly.

You barely noticed the little droid who was at the helm. He spoke up then, asking for directions. “Greetings, Ms. Where is it we are going this evening?"

“To the… Im-Imperial Palace.” you breathed out, suddenly feeling rather warm; you were heated - maybe you were even blushing - Bane commented on that, too.

“Too hot fer  ye', is it? I tend t'keep de temper'ture turned up. Cold-blooded, ye' see. - Todo, drop de thermo'stat so she doesn't melt like Anukarian cho'colate.”

You wanted to tell him that wasn’t it - more so his sexual innuendos out of that somehow sexy mouth. “Mr. Bane, I don’t know what you’re playing at…”

You leaned lightly forward, your large breasts pushed up into a mound atop your chest; they were sensuous - almost inviting - pure cleavage. “But it’s working …”

You placed your dainty hand atop his knee; he had flung one leg out over the captain’s chair. Your polished nails dug into the leather of his worn dusky chaps, giving him a suggestion, though it was aimed more so at yourself. “Save it for after the party … I can’t have you messing up my hair. I have a speech to give.”

He smiled, or at least you thought he did; it was wicked, halfway to a sneer. “Such'a pret'ty thin'. Don’ distract me. Ah’ve gotta job t'do.”

---

The affair was filled with top brass, admirals, and the highest ranks. Lord Vader was there, and the Emperor sat atop his throne at the head of the entertainment chamber. He faced you on a stage opposite the room, but nothing was as distracting as Cad Bane.

Your mouth moved, reciting lines having been memorized as you gazed out to the audience; there were soldiers, women who were wives, dressed to the nines in fashionable ballgowns, possibly worth ten thousand credits each. No expense was spared; they ate the finest foods, and drank the richest wine, yet nothing shown so bright as that damned bounty hunter who had one foot against a column, dressed so out of place, and you nearly stumbled on your words – your mind went blank for just a moment - someone coughed, but you quickly regained your traction, an elliptical, crimson gaze of the loveliest shade watching your performance like a bonegnawer ready to attack its prey.

There was a nearly scale-sized hologram of your invention behind you with schematics flashing; the visuals changed as you gave your authoritative spiel on the subject matter. You cracked a joke or two at the Separatist’s expense, and the room laughed with you; all except that accursed Duros. He seemed somewhat unimpressed though he hid his feelings well behind a cold, calculating mask that made your cheeks flush with warmth again.

You were given applause, congratulations, then a commendation by your adored leader, knowing the Star Destroyer was already being manufactured; it was set to sail any day now and you were proud of yourself. You felt you deserved a sweet reward.

You made to get off stage and you nearly tripped in your high-heeled shoes. Cad was there to catch you in his arms. It was almost a scene from a holomovie. You blushed as he stared down at you beneath the rim of his excessively large hat, another toothpick having found its way inside his mouth.

“Careful, girl,” was all he said, but it was enough.

“Follow me,”  you whispered, perhaps the Duros having to strain his ears beneath his skullcap. The music was echoing through the room, some catchy jizz number. This celebration was for you, but you didn’t care. His breathing apparatus whirred behind him as he lifted you up to stand.

You traipsed off down the hall and to the left, not paying attention, overcome with a heightened intoxication though you were sober; he followed at some distance behind. You curled a finger and he diligently pursued though your trip was short as you found a blaster to your head and an arm wrapped around your slender neck; you had been caught unaware.

Cad Bane stood transfixed, five slender digits neatly crimped around double LL-30s, withdrawn from the no-fight holsters at his hips. “Ah was startin’ t'think dhis job was gonna be too easy. If y'know what’s good fer ye’, you’ll let de Misses go an' sstep a'way.”

“Never!” the hooded man shouted. “Do you know what that thing is that she’s created?! It’s a superweapon! It can take out entire cities!”

“S’naht m'business, son. Ma' job’s t'keep her safe, so now Ah’m gonna reap m'keep.”

You were glad for the distraction as you hiked one leg up, reaching for the vibroknife that was strapped to the outside of your thigh. You withdrew it by the hilt and brought it up, shoving it backwards, straight into your would-be assassin’s eye.

The man screamed briefly until two blaster shots were fired - muted sounds that echoed throughout the empty hallway - he had released you one millisecond earlier and Bane had shot him dead, putting him out of his already too keen misery.

He holstered his own blasters then sauntered forward, taking your narrow chin in the crook of his agile hand between two fingers, squeezing, though not too roughly. He tilted your head to look at him, though you were somewhat out of breath and quaking from adrenaline, his eyes like two Corusca gems; they glittered brilliantly as he gazed at you for the second time that night. “Yer naht lettin’ me earn m'creditss. What de kriff am Ah even gettin' paid for?”

“For this,” you hungrily sighed out, snatching the pointed wooden object from out his mouth before slamming your plush lips against his. They nearly nonexistent, but his tongue snaked out and you twirled yours around it; you pushed him forward into an awaiting wall. Something felt unique, but you couldn’t place it. Alien anatomy was new to you.

Your hand trailed right along, pressing the entrance panel to an automated door that parted like the Calamari Sea. You backed him up inside and it shut behind you, locking tight. You found a desk to lean him against and he turned the tables; he flipped you around and shoved you down.

His nimble fingers invited himself to your supple flesh, kneading the soft tissue that rested just below the low-cut neckline of your dress; his hands were strong, yet careful - they could bruise you if he wasn't cautious - it sent a mewl of pleasure from your mouth; it only encouraged him.

He licked you then, your curvaceous neck, with delicacy across your sultry skin. He reveled in the savory flavor before he caught you clueless, unsure of what he was about to do. 

His breathing mechanism whirled as he dropped down to one knee, throwing that dress of yours up enough so that he could gain access to what he was after - the heat that radiated from deep inside you - drawing him in like a bee to sweetblossom; it was warm and inviting, much like those breasts of yours he wanted to press his face against, but there would be time for that, or so he thought.

“S'pose Ah earn dhem a'nother way, hm?” he asked casually enough. You shook your head, leaning your body backward for your arms to prop you up. He had fangs - it was quite apparent - but you suddenly trusted him enough not to hurt you, perchance unwise, but you wondered what it would feel like until you didn’t have to wonder anymore - he had removed your lacey thong.

It was then you realized what was different; that tongue of his was pointed at the tip, like a large, carnivorous lizard that lived in some galaxy, far, far away. 

He pushed his hat back for better access, but he didn't take it off - he had spread your lower lips apart with dexterous fingers, the flat of his tongue trailing across your labia minora until it had found its proper place - he was good at that; you wondered if Duros women were anything like humans.

The vertex of his writhing muscle tickled your pink pearl, exposed from inside its shell. He was adept at stimulating the little bundle of nerves that lived there, though you felt his teeth – they had brushed against you gently – and he was somewhat growling as he slipped a finger inside your body’s cavity, sampling your eagerness, though not moving beyond that second knuckle; he wouldn't want to stain his leather gloves.

He paused; his lip curled upwards revealing canines; he smirked a little to himself. “De 'evil scientist' ain’ so sscary afta' all. She’s just'a wo'man.”

He went back to his work; he was industrious, diligent, ticking just all the right boxes and not even coming up for air. You realized he didn’t have to; he had a breathing apparatus, and he would earn those credits by the end of it.

That snaking finger probed and caressed your insides, finding the underside of your pubic bone where the human g-spot lay in wait; you wondered how he knew. He pressed down with the pad of his pliant appendage, blue like the rest of him, that expert organ titillating you until release, the shimmery substance that was your body’s natural response coating his extremity.

Bane pulled his finger out after your moaning ceased – it took only half of one to nearly fill you – he licked it clean, almost laughing, though you thought you could sense his satisfaction as he gazed back up at you, red eyes boring into yours as your eyelids fluttered rapidly. “Tastess sweet.”

“Good enough to eat?” you lilted, taking one high heel and pressing it upon his chest, Cad still bent down along the floor upon one kneecap. You pushed him backwards and he allowed it though if he had wanted to he could have torn your throat out with those reptilian incisors.

“Ye' takin’ me fer'a ride?”

You nearly had his pants undone, holsters off, and belt buckle parted when a booming voice shouted from the hall – it was your employer, or one of them - Darth Vader, and you had to answer his beck and call.

"Aurora: I sense you are still alive. You are wanted by my master. He has proposed a toast.” He paused, likely reaching out through the Force to answer lingering questions, namely the body that was left behind; the blaster shots that had been fired, though he felt another presence in the room with you.

The door slid open despite it being locked and you were caught straddling Cad Bane. The Duros tilted his head backward to look at Vader from a viewpoint that was upside down; he was unashamed, the brim of his hat hiding the somewhat smug look upon his face. Vader didn’t have one, just that mask - that ugly helmet he always wore - his mechanized breathing echoing around the small confines of the room, someone’s office, and you could at least tell he was staring down at you.

“Come.”

Bane couldn’t help himself.

“Ah think de lil’ lady al'ready did dhat.”

-----

xoxoxoxoxo

Note: It makes me giggle to know Vader is ANAKIN and he KNOWS who Cad Bane is! He might not LIKE him but he knows he’s damn good at his *cough* job.

Took inspiration from this superweapon:   https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Onager-class_Star_Destroyer

If you enjoyed this, here is my current Cad Bane longfic/WIP.

[clonewarsarchives]

Reputation (#136, OCT 2012)

written by Ari Marmell

art by Tom Hodges

It wasn’t even genuine rain pattering down around him, muting the hum of the speeders and skiffs high above. Real rain could never have wormed its way among the various obstacles to reach the city’s lower levels. No, this was condensation, dripping from the undersides of bridges, roadways, and TaggeCo gray-cranes overhead. Oily, polluted, stinking and stinging, it was enough to drive almost anyone to seek the nearest shelter.

Almost anyone. Not the hunter.

Broad-brimmed hat and sturdy coat of nashtah hide shed the putrid water as efficiently as any forcefield, but even if they hadn’t, the figure crouched beneath them would likely never have noticed the precipitation. From a flat and leathery face beneath that brim, the sinister crimson eyes of a Duros peered not at the multitude of towers above and ledges below, or the glimmering of a thousand lights, but into the years ahead.

War’s coming.

Most people didn’t like to think about it, didn’t want to admit it. They pretended the Trade Federation’s recent embargoes were flukes; ignored the growing whispers of separation and secession from the Outer Rim systems; placed an almost religious faith in the new chancellor’s abilities to reunite a fractious Senate.

He knew better, the hunter did. He could smell it in the air, across the length and breadth of the Republic. Might be a few years, yet, but war it would be.

And there was money to be made in war. A lot of money; more wealth than even the greediest Corellian could imagine. But he needed the name, the reputation, to claim it, which was why he’d taken this fool’s errand of a job in the first—

His eyes snapped back into focus with a single blink at the sudden vibration in the metallic band on his left wrist. Something had tripped the portable sensor fled—independent from the building’s internal security, and not nearly as easily bypassed—the Duros had placed on the roof below. Indeed, even as he rose for a better view, a glimmer of green luminescence shone, briefly but brightly, from a darkened hatch.

“Suppose it’s about that time, then...” the hunter muttered, his voice a rasping, rolling growl. Spindly fingers ran across the custom blasters at his waist in a final check, and then he was off and running. Coat flowing behind him like wings, boots spraying a wake of filthy water, the bounty hunter hit the edge of the platform and leapt.

“Blast doors down! Blast doors down!”

Akris Ur’etu, lord of the youthful but rich and brutal Skar’kla Consortium, cringed at the sound of his own voice, shrill enough to drown out the slamming of the heavy slabs. He knew it made him sound panicked, even cowardly, and couldn’t do a bleeding thing about it. When the Bothan crime boss grew agitated, his shadow-gray fur stood on end and his voice screeched like the felines he so greatly resembled.

Still, whatever his people thought of his bravery—or lack thereof—they obeyed. Half a dozen guards, human and otherwise, crouched throughout the room or flattened themselves against the walls, blasters and slug-throwers trained on the nigh-impregnable door. Ur’etu himself clutched a holdout blaster in one paw, hidden behind his magnificent desk of blood-red greel wood.

“Is it him?” he demanded, his tone now slightly more under control He ran his empty paw over his head, as though he could force his fur to relax. “Are we certain it’s him?”

A bronze-scaled Trandoshan thug opened his maw to speak, but the answer quickly became moot. A pinprick of glowing heat blossomed through the blast door; molten durasteel trickled from the breach, disturbingly like seepage from a ruptured cyst.

Swiftly, smoothly, that point became a line, tracing its way down the surface of the door. Ur’etu could practically envision the brown robed figure on the other side, lightsaber pressed tight to the portal.

“As he likes it, then,” the Bothan sneered, his worry drowning in a growing tide of anger. “I don’t know why this Jedi’s been interfering with my operations—or what happened to the bounty hunter who’s supposed to get him out of my fur!—but it ends here! The instant that door opens, I want that hallway filled with enough blaster fire to charbroil a Hutt!”

Guards grunted, fingers flexed on triggers and firing studs—and slowly, methodically, the sizzling outline in the blast door grew...

When the cut was finally complete, a chunk of durasteel simply slid away and toppled into the chamber. Clearly, the Jedi had canted the cut downward so gravity alone would do the job of moving the heavy slab; had any of Uretu’s men been fool enough to stand too close. they’d have been pulped.

Blasters screamed and bolts flew even as the room shuddered at the impact, so many and so rapidly that the ambient air grew charged, but no target stood revealed for them to hit. After a few volleys that served no purpose other than to score the walls beyond, it finally dawned on the lot of them that they were firing into an empty corridor.

Empty... until, just as the Trandoshan began to edge forward, a tiny metallic sphere bounced into the room from all to the left of the gaping hole in the door.

“Detonator!”

Ur’etu dropped beneath his heavy desk with a horrified yowl; guards dove for cover or turned to run, as though there were any real way to escape.

The blast, when it came, was almost pure heat and flame without concussion. The Trandoshan and two other thugs were incinerated outright, the others singed to various degrees of pain. Smoke, far more than any traditional thermal detonator should have emitted, billowed upward to cloud not only the doorway but that entire half of the room.

“Eyes on the door!” the Bothan shrieked from beneath the desk. “He’ll be—!”

He already was. From the very top of the smoke, carried through the fumes in a leap that no normal human could have duplicated, the dark-clad intruder rolled. A sizzling snap-hiss! and an emerald reflection in the cloud heralded his arrival. The lightsaber flashed, and the first of the surviving guards went down.

From well behind the Jedi—who, it turned out, was a black-haired and bearded human at average height, clad in a dark-hued variant of the Order’s traditional garb—the bounty hunter watched through narrowed crimson slits. One finger idly tapped at his chin, while the other kept the same rhythm on the butt of a holstered blaster.

These were no Jedi tactics he’d ever heard of! Slicing through the blast door, that was one thing, but the Duros had never seen a lightsaber like this one. The shaft alone was over a meter long, as though the weapon had been stuck on the end of a small pike, turning it into more of a spear than a sword. And he’d watched as the Jedi ducked aside, hunkering behind the segment of the door still standing until the inevitable barrage had passed, and then...

“Since when,” he asked himself softy. “does the Jedi satchel of tricks include thermal detonators?”

Most curious of all, though, was the leap that carried the intruder into the chamber beyond the wall of smoke. For just a spilt second, as the Jedi crouched, the bounty hunter swore he spotted tiny flashes of light from the soles of the man’s boots.

“Well, now. What exactly are we looking at here?”

Tugging the collar of his coat high and tight to filter the worst of the fumes (Breathing tubes! Best add breathing tubes to my own sack of tricks...), the bounty hunter crept toward the smoke.

*      *      *

When the boss of the Skar’kla Consortium had ducked beneath his desk, it wasn’t only because he’d hoped the heavy greet wood might shield him from the blast. A hidden switch, a quick turn, and the floor beside the desk hissed open. By the time the last of the guards fell to the lightsaber, Ur’etu was already dashing along a metal-paneled corridor, swearing up a storm in Bothese between ragged gasps. He’d expected he might have to retreat, that the guards upstairs might not be enough—but he thought they’d at least have slowed the blasted Jedi down a little! With every step, he had to quash the urge to look over his shoulder, convinced he heard pounding footsteps or the sinister hum of the blade close behind him. A dozen times he started at sudden movement, and a dozen times it proved nothing more than his own reflection in the polished walls.

Finally, after what felt like a sprint of roughly a light year or so, he came to the end of the corridor, and cheery door not substantially thinner than the blast doors above. Somewhat frantically—for now he really did hear the rapid steps of the oncoming Jedi—he waved a paw over a sensor recessed into the durasteel. Instantly the portal slid up into the frame, revealing Ur’etu’s security center.

From amidst a ring of standing monitors, the Bothan’s Weequay security chief peered at him.

“Problem, boss?”

The clunk of the closing door masked another stream of Bothese obscenities. “What the mradhe muck kind of stupid question is that?!”

The Weequay shrugged, and if he felt at all contrite, it didn’t show in the crags and wrinkles of his coarse face. “Thought you said you’d call me when you needed—”

“Wasn’t time! That Jedi tore your men apart!”

“He’s coming through that door any second,” Ur’etu continued between wheezes.

“Good!” The security chief stepped away from his post, a stubby force pike clutched in his left fist. It began to crackle and spit, as though just as anxious as its wielder for the coming chaos. “Been wantin’ to try my hand against a Jedi.”

“You don’t have to beat the son of a mynock! Just lock him up long enough for....” The Bothan hefted his blaster.

“Just don’ hit me, boss.”

“Oh, thank you so much for the—”

No lightsaber cuts this time; the door simply slid upward once more to reveal the cloaked and cowled figure beyond.

Instantly Ur’etu stepped back and to one side, raising the small but deadly weapon in hopes of a clean shot. The Weequay strode forward, force pike spinning idly at his side.

The Jedi’s left hand rose, fingers pointing at the Bothan.

Ur’etu gasped as the blaster abruptly tore itself from his grip and sailed across the chamber to slap into a dark-gloved palm.

The Weequay had crossed roughly half the distance between them in a sudden lunge before the Jedi flipped the blaster around and shot him in the face.

“Now... now wait a minute...” the Bothan protested, backing away with both paws raised. “Look, I don’t know what grudge you have against my organization, but I’m sure there’s some arrangement that we can glrk...”

The Jedi stepped to one side, left hand pointing once more, and Ur’etu began to choke.

*      *      *

“Right. Think I’ve seen about enough, then.”

Two faces, one hooded and one furred, twitched around as the bounty hunter stepped calmly into the security chamber. Ur’etu made a peculiar gurgling in his throat, gesturing madly toward the Jedi with one paw while the other continued to grab futilely at his own neck.

The Duros watched the Jedi’s arm shift beneath his robes, saw the indecision on the man’s face, and offered a broad, sharp-toothed grin. “Don’t mind me. I got no intention of interfering. By all means, finish up.”

One wouldn’t have thought the suffocating Bothan’s eyes could bulge any wider. One would have been wrong. Ur’etu, boss of the Skar’kla Consortium, died staring in horrified rage at the blue-skinned bounty hunter.

“Now,” the bounty hunter began as the body slumped to the floor, “let’s you and me talk a minute.”

“What about?” Even had the Jedi’s words not swum in a soup of suspicion, the hand he rested on the hilt of his lightsaber would have been indicator enough.

“Mostly about how you faked all...” Long blue fingers waved idly at the room in general .“All this.”

The hand on the lightsaber shaft tightened.

“I don’t recommend it, son. Not even a Jedi’d be fast enough—and we both know you’re no Jedi.”

The man’s answering hiss of astonished anger led into the louder hiss of plasma, the lightsaber blade once more snapping on to bathe him in a faint green glow...

And just as swiftly shut down as a blaster bolt tare through the shaft, sending metal shrapnel, burnt wiring, and crystalline shards tearing through cloth and, in a few painful instances, skin.

“Stolen lightsaber, right?” the bounty hunter continued, as casually as if discussing the latest slingball match. “Extra haft makes it easier to wield without leaving a few of your own limbs behind, that one’s obvious. What else you got?”

The “Jedi” leapt, clearing the control panels and half the chamber in a bound, heading toward the fallen Weequay and—presumably—his weapons.

“The boots, right. Impressive.” A second blaster bolt flew, piercing miniature engine, leather, and flesh alike. Smoke, so thick it was almost a fluid, gushed from the human’s right heel. Propelled only by the other, now, his leap veered off course. slamming him into the wall with a bone-bruising crunch. He slid to the floor, groaning. “Smallest personal jet I’ve seen was 30-kilo pack,” the Duros told him, gesturing idly with the pistol . “You’re lucky I made that shot, by the way. I don’t typically practice shooting to wound.”

Fingers shaking, the supposed Jedi raised a hand once more. The blaster quivered in the hunter’s hand, then began to pull away.

“Mono-filament cable with a magnetic grapple?” The bounty hunter yanked, and the wounded man slid across the floor, dragged by his own wrist. “Probably looked just like the Force to that scared Bothan idiot when you snagged his blaster.” The human fetched up against the hunter’s feet with a pained gasp.

“And the suffocation. Let me see...” He bent low, studying the other’s wrist gauntlets. “Gas emitter. Wouldn’t recommend trying that, not with you and me so close. Might choke the both of us, hmm?”

Real clever scheme, I’ll give you that.” The Duros holstered his weapon, then again started to idly tap a finger against his chin. “Leave behind a few bodies killed with a lightsaber or choked without any bruising, make sure witnesses see you performing a few tricks, and everyone’s thinking your target riled up the Jedi something fierce. So nobody—not the authorities, not Ur’etu’s allies—are looking at any of his business rivals. Smart.

“So which Hutt are you working for?”

“What did—? I never said... How—?”

“Not hard to figure. Not like anyone but the Hutts have been trying to move on Skar’kla territory.”

The “Jedi” nodded once, his teeth clenched.

“All right. Then here’s the deal, son. I took Ur’etu’s job—that’s killing you, in case you still weren’t sure—because I figured taking down a Jedi would garner some attention. But everyone would’ve figured it out, once I brought you in. So here’s what I figure: The Hutt’s bounty on the Bothan must be pretty sizable, so I’m going to collect it.

“And you... You’re gonna convince me I made the right call letting you live by teaching me how to construct this kind of miniaturized equipment.” Already the hunter’s mind was reeling with the possibilities; energy fields, ship controls, hidden weapons, code breakers...

The false Jedi was clearly wise enough not to bother asking what would happen should he refuse. Instead, he nodded a second time, even more stiffly. “I didn’t catch your name, bounty hunter.”

“Bane. The name’s Cad Bane.”

“Never heard of you.”

“No.” Bane couldn’t keep a broad and vicious smile from spreading across his face. War was Looming—and the hunter with access to this kind of gear, and the right attitude to use it, would have more than enough of a reputation to cash in when the time came. “No, you wouldn’t have.

“Not yet.”

[nosleeppotions]

Nashtah didn't remove his helmet often but he was repainting it along with a few other pieces of armor and were left in his room.

On the bright side he can drink his morning caf unhindered... although he misplaced his proper glasses so now some things were blurrier than others.

.

The first thing Nashtah noticed was he had ten kids in the training room instead of nine. He yawns and gestures for his boys to line up. "Is it just me or are you boys early?"

"We are sir... we were showing CC-1010 some moves... sir." Knowit admitted.

Nashtah squints his eyes slightly to see the extra kid his boys seemed to have adopted. "Ah, so it IS you 1010." He grins and ruffles the ad'ika 's hair. He's been seeing a lot of the young CC lately.

.

"Alright boys, I don't really have anything planned today so let's teach 1010 how it's done." He grins.

He's not sure why... but he feels the tiny Commander is going to need what he's going to teach... and isn't that a scary thought.

[assassinsith]

Meant to post these while ago but here they are. Custome painted Rancor Face #arc170 and the Nashtah Pup #z95headhunter for #xwingminiatures

[hannagoldworthy]

Runaways 3

(The year 32 BBY, according to the Old Canon, was a particularly important year for the small planet of Tatooine.  This snippet takes place less than a week after Shmi stole the krayt dragon pearls, just for scale.)

(Trigger warning: Maul and Aurra spend most of their brief interaction slut-shaming and virgin-shaming each other.  It’s PG-13, part sarcasm, and part assertion of dominance...commonplace in a seedy part of Mos Espa, but it might make some uncomfortable.)

(Lekku signing is in italics.)

“It’s another message.”  Aayla said that part out loud, waiting until Quinlan Vos rolled out from underneath the speeder they were repairing to sign with her lekku, “From the Council.”

“Don’t answer,” Quin signed back, moving his dreadlocks with the Force.  He’d learned to ‘speak’ her language in the earliest years of their partnership; it came in handy, when they needed to communicate without their ‘bosses’ hearing while undercover.

“I’m not…but it could be important.”

“And Tatooine is important, too,” Quin signed, standing and grabbing a towel to wipe the grease off his face.  “One of Dreddon’s main weapons suppliers loses a valuable Force-sensitive slave in a pod racing bet, and then loses the kid’s mother to a bandit?  Expensive Core World star cruisers blowing in and out of the place like it’s a fueling station?  Raids on native and off-worlder dwellings, apparently by each other, but the culprits are all on the Hutts’ payroll?  Tusken Raiders amassing in the desert and Jabba forming a small army to fight them?”

“I know, Master,” she sighed.  “But if we don’t answer…”

“We’ll just tell them that we didn’t get the message because of a bad reception.  It’s worked before.”

“Which does not mean it will work forever.”

“Hey, if this is the last time I can use the excuse, you have to admit it will be worth it.”  Quin winked. “Now, did you get any info from the accounting offices?”

Aayla nodded.  “They’ve got lump sums prepared under the names Cad Bane and Nashtah.  Bane never uses any other name, but I’m pretty sure Nashtah’s a pseudonym.”

“I think you’re right.  Aurra Sing likes to keep things subtle.”  Quin made a face.  “Jedi Hunters…I hope this doesn’t mean they’re on to us.”

“There’s also this.”  Aayla produced the day’s edition of the Mos Espa Binary.

“A personal ad?”

“Yes, advertising a night ‘To make my aura Sing,’ for ‘double the usual fair,’ signed Seris.”

“Uh…yeah.  That’s fishy. I think you should follow up on that.”

“Me?”  Aayla grimaced.  “But, what if I’m wrong, and it really is just a booty call or something?”

“Then wish them a productive evening and get the hell out of there.”

“I’m sixteen, Quin.”

“Which is why you are not getting anywhere near Bane, Aayla.  He’s a tricky one, and will kill you.”

“So will Sing.”

“Yeah, but she gloats.  Anyone can kick her ass if they catch her monologuing.”

“Master, she is a fallen Jedi…”

“One that never made it past her first year as Padawan.  You can handle this, Misty.”

Aayla shrugged helplessly.  “Well, if you’re wrong, I intend to haunt you.”

“Best night’s sleep I’ll have gotten in my life.”

“You’re a jackass.”

***

That night Cad Bane was heading out alone into the desert, probably to scout out where the Tusken tribes had gathered; Jabba wanted revenge for what had happened to Gardulla, and though it was obvious that the Tuskens were not responsible for that attack, they were the most convenient scapegoat.  However, Quinlan knew the terrain better and also knew some Tusken.  He was going to take a shortcut through Beggar’s Canyon and warn the chieftains.  “Don’t worry, Misty.  One of the chiefs is an ex-Jedi and not a fallen one either.  He won’t let them kill me.”

“If he knew you, he’d want to save the pleasure for himself.”

“Rude,” Quin smirked, bopping her nose with one finger. “Give the lovers my regards, hey?”

“They wouldn’t like you either!”

Aayla was headed for a shack on the edge of town, typically used for the sort of late-night assignations advertised.  Knowing from traumatic research into just how much an hour with a Rutian Twi’lek girl her age could cost on most Hutt planets, and from equally traumatic personal experience the lengths slavers and rapists would go to in order to get her for free, she took care to avoid the busy night streets, leaping from rooftop to rooftop.  She reached the assigned address about half an hour before the meeting was to take place, and lay flat on her stomach on the rooftop, reining in her Force presence so that Sing would not sense her, wincing at every noise the wood and adobe structure made under her weight.  She intended to get a good look at her quarry, not to fight them, but if a fight did end up occurring, she needed to evaluate them both – Sing she’d received a rundown on, but the mysterious stranger was…

…not the sort of person she was expecting.

The Zabrak male arrived perhaps five minutes after she got settled.  He appeared out of the desert in dark bantha-wool clothing, looking for all the world like a ghost out of Tusken folklore.  He was young, but Aayla found it difficult to pinpoint just how young, because his black tattoos and no-nonsense demeanor made him seem much older.  There was a sort of efficiency to his gait which bespoke the talents of a trained sword fighter, but the form to which he unconsciously conformed even as he walked was one which Aayla had only seen used by Master Windu.

Form VII…he was a dark-sider.  And not a Temple drop-out like Aurra Sing; he had to have learned this from someone else, because Master Windu did not teach anyone Form VII, not even his own apprentices.

Aayla froze, barely allowing herself to think, for fear the Zabrak would sense her, but he paid the rooftop no more than a passing glance, and acknowledged no presence save for the glitteryll junkies making out in the alleyway beside the shack.  Those he scared off with a fearsome, animalistic roar; obviously, he wanted this meeting to be private.  With one last glance around the place, the Zabrak entered the hovel, and waited.

Aurra Sing arrived right on time for the meeting, her sashaying hips and sultry mannerisms hiding the fact that her hand was always on her blaster hilt.  She entered the hovel without delay, slamming the flimsy wooden door shut behind her.

“Hey, baby, how ya been?” she purred; the crackling walls may have been made of adobe, but Tatooine sand was notoriously porous, and Aayla could hear every word.  “I hope you brought the wine, because I brought the goods.”

“Cut the act, Sing,” the Zabrak sneered in a mellifluous voice; somehow Aayla could hear his eyes roll.  “You know what my business is.”

“Ruin my fun, why dontcha?”  There was a pout in Sing’s tone.  “An uptight little virgin like you could probably use a good lay.”

He snorted.  “Perhaps, but I could do without the twenty different infestations I’d get from you.”

“Rude.  It can’t be more than seven.”  There was the soft rasping of a wooden chair against the dirt floor.  “So, handsome.  What’ve you got this time that’s worth double my fair to you?  Has Daddy finally let you kidnap yourself a blow-up doll?”

There was a pause, likely for effect.  “I want you to leave Tatooine, and not come back, at least until the current conflict has blown over.”

“…That’s a tall order, babe.  I’m gonna have to ask you to pay me up front, in full, before I even consider it.”

“You were willing to do my job ahead of getting paid before…”

“Before, I wasn’t breaking contract with a Hutt.  Reneging on a deal with one of them gets me blacklisted from every respectable bounty guild in the galaxy – if it doesn’t get my pasty white ass flayed and hung from the walls as a tapestry.  It’s not worth twice my usual fee, it’s worth a hundred.  So pay up, or I’m leaving.”

“If my plan goes through, this planet will soon be free of the Hutts…”

“This business doesn’t run on ifs, kid.  Talk to you late…”

Until now, the rustling noises the walls made had been mere background noise, something that everyone present could have blamed on the wind or on structural settling.  However, beneath Aayla’s weight there was a loud crack, and an instant later, she’d landed on the floor below her, and the only thing that broke her fall was a rickety old table that was reduced to kindling.  Gingerly she looked up, glancing between Sing and the Zabrak, unsure which one would move to kill her first.

Sing looked bemused, evaluating the hole in the ceiling with a wry look on her face.  “It’s raining women, hallelujah.  You have the most expensive taste in girlfriends, sonny boy.”

The Zabrak paused his intense stare toward Aayla in order to deliver a legendary eye roll.  “It’s called class, Sing.  Ever heard of it?”

“It must take one gigantic piece of…class to land a Jedi in your lap.” Sing folded her hands together, looking toward the ceiling as if praying.  “Please, if anyone’s out there, make mine orange, and give me a chance to watch them kick the everlasting crap out of Hondo Ohnaka.”

The Zabrak glared back at Aayla, and she saw that his eyes were an amber-brown, which reflected yellow in the starlight which filtered through the new window.  “Jedi?”

“Hey, I think I might have seen you around before…aren’t you that snotty little mechanic who works for…?”

Aayla closed her eyes, and reached out for the huntress’s blaster; it was set to stun, likely to prevent from killing anyone for free.  Good. With one tug, she pulled the trigger, and Aurra Sing took a stun bolt to her leg and sank to the ground.

Sing was still mostly conscious, however; she’d probably taken worse before.  With her eyes un-focusing in different directions, she tilted her head in Aayla’s general direction.  “You…little…shrew…”

The Zabrak pulled the blaster to his hand with a flick of the wrist, and he administered a second stun bolt to Aurra’s chest.  The pale huntress was out like a light.

And then the Zabrak took Aayla’s hand in his and rushed her out the door.  “Don’t look back,” he growled.  “Just keep walking with me until we’re out of sight; stunnings happen all the time out here.”

“But…but we can’t just leave her…”

“We can and we must.  I’ve seen her take five stun bolts in a blood rage and keep going; we have to put as much distance between her and us as possible.”

She yanked against his hold, suddenly terrified at the strength of his grip.  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Oh for Force sake, I’m not going to hurt you.”  He stopped and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look into his bright and terrible eyes. “A family friend is in grave danger on these robbers’ account, and I’m trying to protect him.  And you have information that will help me with that.”

Aayla found herself blinking away tears, to her humiliation. “And once you have that information, I’ll be of no further use to you.”

His gaze softened.  “No, please…please don’t cry,” he said, reaching up to wipe a tear from her left cheek with the back of his hand.  “You will be allowed to return to your Order, I promise.”

She scoffed.  “Dark-siders make many empty promises.”

“I swear, on my mother’s life, that no harm will come to you on my account.”

Aayla looked from one eye to the other, terrified, but observant. He certainly seemed to be telling the truth…and she didn’t want to risk a fight with him, knowing that her training had yet to be completed and he was obviously brought up on fighting.

“Okay,” she choked out a reply from what she – mortified – suspected was a sob.  “What do you want me to do?”

“Hurry.”  And he was dragging her by one hand again, this time in an all-out run toward a dune just outside of town.

***

It was immensely comforting to Aayla when instead of the pitch-black, villainously-angled speederbike she had been half-expecting the Zabrak led her to a lanky, friendly eopie.  It was even more comforting to see how the docile animal snuffled lovingly at the Zabrak’s face and pockets, obviously begging for a treat.

“There’s no time now, Linn my lovely,” he cooed affectionately in a tone at utter odds with his formidable aspect.  “Let my guest ride with me now, all right?”

The eopie shook its head and neck, and knelt on one knee to allow access to the saddle on its back.  The Zabrak offered Aayla a lift up, but she declined and mounted gracefully, extending a hand to him.  That earned her a faint smile; he accepted the hand, and let himself be hauled onto the animal in front of her.

“My Master will have warned the Tuskens by now, if nothing went wrong.”

“Warned them of what?”

“Cad Bane.  He was going hunting for their location, no doubt intending to send a beacon to Jabba’s forces.”

In the palace that dominated the center of Mos Espa, a loud horn rang out through the night; dust began to swirl in the town, indicating a large group of people moving in one direction.

The Zabrak jerked the reins, and coaxed the eopie into as fast a gallop as possible.  “Something went wrong.”

“Go for Beggar’s Canyon.  That was the shortcut he intended to take.”

***

The canyon, when they found it, was deathly still. Despite the urgency, the eopie slowed to a walk.

“What are you doing?” Aayla hissed.

The Zabrak held a hand up to signal her for silence, and then pumped his fist in the air, letting out an accurate Tusken war cry.  He was answered with other cries throughout the canyon, and masked and hooded figures began to creep out from all corners, bearing ancient blaster rifles and new gaderffii sticks.

One tall warrior came up to the eopie’s side to take her companion’s arm.  “Man, I am glad to see you,” he said.  “You missed out on the fun…Dad got his ass reamed by some cone-headed Jedi who crash-landed a mile from here, and then this rad-looking tattooed guy speeder-tackled a blue guy with a bunch of medical conditions who had a signal beacon to rat us out.  Lucky us, we got it away from him, and activated it here.”

“In the perfect place for an ambush.”

“Hell yeah, brother!  And we’ve got two actual, active Jedi on our side.”

“Make that three.”  He took Aayla’s hand again, and clicked to the eopie to make it lean slightly, so that she could slip off.  “Find your Master, and stay with him…we have time.”

She held his hand when he tried to take it away, and looked right into his amber eyes.  “May the Force be with you.”

He laughed without smiling, and shook his head.  “It already is.  Keep some for yourself…you’re going to need it.”

And then Aayla released him, and practically flew toward the hiding-hole where she could sense Quin waiting.  When she got there, she threw herself into her Master’s embrace, only to find a set of pale yellow eyes gazing placidly at her over Quin’s shoulder.

“Master Mundi…what a, surprise…”

“Save the pleasantries, young Secura,” grumbled the old Cerean.  “You and your damn fool of a Master have been dodging the Council’s calls for months.  The only reassurance we had that you were not dead was that Tholme had not run away from his post yet.”

A Tusken warrior tilted his head quizzically.  “You’re Tholme’s apprentice, and you’re this stupid?”

“Shut up, Hett.  You should hear the stories Master Koth tells about you.”

Master Mundi patted the warrior’s hand.  “Eeth thinks the world of you, Sharad, don’t listen to him.”

“Quiet, you morons,” spat a woman’s voice from another hole.  “They’re almost upon us!”

***

Like many young Jedi-in-training, Aayla Secura had sometimes fallen into the pitfall of romanticizing war and glory.  It tended to happen when one gave an energy sword to a minor; with a few glaring exceptions, Padawans gradually grew out of the phase.

The skirmish on Tatooine forced Aayla to grow ten years in about thirty minutes.

She was a Twi’lek.  She was supposed to be able to analyze a situation more quickly than those who did not possess her brain-tails; her memories were supposed to form quicker and last longer than other humanoids.  But, in the years to come, she would look back on this canyon and remember only dust, and confusion, and the anger of the enemy and of the people who were supposed to be her fellows.  The epic battles which she would fight in the future would seem like child’s play to this maelstrom of sand and death; at least there, she could more easily discern friend from foe.  Here, everyone possessed much of the same garb, and it was all she could do to follow the lead of the more experienced Jedi present.

When the dust settled, the Tuskens had routed Jabba’s goons, and moved toward Mos Espa to finish the fight.  By the end of that cold desert night, the town was theirs, and the Tuskens installed their War Leader in the palace that had once been Gardulla’s.

Who that War Leader would be was under significant debate, because most of the chieftains voted for Sharad Hett and, like a true (ex) Jedi, he kept refusing the role. But, whoever the Leader was, they most certainly were installed in the throne room.  Aayla did not get to hear the resolution to that argument, because Ki-Adi-Mundi practically frog-marched her and Quin out of the palace.

“You two were supposed to be back on Coruscant six months ago,” he said in one of the Palace hallways.  “There have been some strange happenings going on.”

Master and Apprentice looked sheepishly at each other and shrugged.  “Bad connection?” Quin offered.

“Do you really think we were going to fall for that line of mynock guano forever?”

Aayla winced.  “Really bad connection?”

Master Mundi looked about ready to collapse dead of apoplexy. “I fully intend to get on a holocomm call, as soon as possible, and ask Tholme for permission to box each of your ears.”

Quin grinned.  “That doesn’t sound really Jedi, Master.”

The Cerean held his hands up as if he intended to strangle the wayward Kiffar, smiled disconcertingly, and grabbed Quin’s shirt instead.  “Don’t tempt me, boy.”

Aayla was fighting not to laugh – her Master had this effect on members of the Council, and they never actually followed through on any threats – when a flurry of motion in the Hall behind Master Mundi caught her attention. A human family was having a quiet, but emotional reunion – no, humanoid family, for while the older woman and the young boy in the group embrace were indeed human, the young man clasping both of them fiercely was her Zabrak friend from before.  There was tousled hair and tearful smiles, and each of them were absently brushing the endemic dust from each other’s shoulders, and Aayla found herself absorbed entirely.

At one point, the human woman broke away to hold the Zabrak’s face in her hands, murmuring something which Aayla could not hear.  He’d sworn on his mother’s life, she remembered suddenly.  And, upon closer examination, the two did have the same eyes; dirt brown, which gleamed gold under the caress of the twin Tatooine stars, under the recognition of precious love.

“Padawan, are you even listening?”

The young Twi’lek blinked, and smiled unrepentantly.  “No.  Was there something important said?”

In the explosion of righteous fury that occurred, the small but happy little family passed into another hall, unnoticed by any off-worlder save Aayla.  She did not see them again in the few hours left to her on Tatooine, but the memory of them would catch her off-guard for months to come, bringing a smile to her face in the most boring of remedial classes assigned to her for her insubordination.

Perhaps her quiet friend had been a dark-sider once, but Aayla had a feeling that he’d earned his quiet repose on a distant planet.  She would not rob him of that.

[teagrl]

“Fear me, Jedi! I am Aurra Sing, Nashtah, scourge of your kind! I haunt your darkest dreams! I drink Jedi blood; I nest in their guts! Your nightmares now have a name, hierophant, and that name is Aurra Sing!”

Ugh. Really missing Luke right about now. Especially the incarnation from that fab holo Luke Skywalker and the Shadows of Mindor. My favorite exchange from an exchange that is full of awesomeness:

“You think you can defeat me? Fool! This blade is the product of untold millennia of Sith alchemy! Against such power, your Jedi toy is but a broken reed!”

“Sith alchemy?” Luke squinted at him. “Are you kidding?”

Bwahahaha. Sometimes bad guys need a little less reverence. I think Han and Leia encounter Aurra Sing in LotF, but I forgot how that went because it was such a clusterfuck. I doubt she had this much panache though. 

[i-have-zero-social-skills]

How Darth Plagueis Goes Off The Deep End In My Time Travel Fix It AU

Okay so these are my thoughts about how Darth Plagueis goes crazy in my fic, and what he does when he goes insane. Okay so from his perspective, everything is normal when his Apprentice Darth Sidious suddenly gains memories from the future, so Plagueis has to acknowledge that Sidious is also a Master, and that he will be killed by Sidious in the future.  This unsettles Plagueis greatly, so it’s the first step on Plagueis’ downward spiral.  Then Plagueis learns from Sidious that four Jedi Masters also have memories of the future, and they have to eliminate all four Masters and obtain the extremely powerful Force-Sensitive infant under the Masters’ protection, or be exposed as Sith, and thus have the Grand Plan be ruined.  Then despite their many attempts to stop the Masters from reaching the Temple, Plagueis and Sidious both fail to stop the Masters, and capture the Force-Sensitive infant.  This sends both of them into a panic, because they know the Jedi are coming for them, as they were too obvious in their attempts to stop the Masters.  After that, the Jedi send a team of the best Masters to confront the Sith, and during the fight Sidious is killed while Plagueis is barely able to get away.  This is the turning point for Plagueis because everything he believed in was shattered.  The Grand Plan was supposed to be at its endgame.  The Sith were supposed to win.  And the Jedi weren’t supposed to discover the Sith.  The Rule of Two was supposed to work, but now everything is ruined, and Plagueis is the last of the Sith.  Even worse than that, he now has to hide because the Jedi are looking for him.  In his panic, he comes to believe that the Rule of Two is too vulnerable, and he needs to get as many Apprentices as he can so there will be safety in numbers.  He doesn’t see that even if he can train his Apprentices undisturbed, the Apprentices will eventually band together and kill him.  Of course, that’s not what happens.  The Jedi discover him because his experiments caused a Disturbance in the Force.  He spends the rest of his life in a constant state of paranoia, knowing the Jedi could find him anytime.   Plagueis believes that he needs to use his Midi-Chlorian manipulation to create an army of Apprentices, because it’s too risky for him to search for Force-Sensitive children while the Jedi are looking for him.  So he first sends his first Apprentice, Darth Gemeen to search for potential Apprentices, then once he feels he has enough Apprentices he sends his most trusted Apprentice, Darth Nashtah to collect samples for his experiments.  Another note is he was so desperate for Apprentices that he gave all ten of his Apprentices the title of Darth, just because all of them were willing to follow him and not because they all earned it.  

These are his ten Apprentices:

Beel Acton, or Darth Gemeen. Aurra Sing, or Darth Nashtah Sly Moore, or Darth Sombra Regera Girwan, or Darth Reisender Kar Vastor, or Darth Akk Sev'rance Tann, or Darth Arcanum Alysun Celz, or Darth Mendax Volfe Karkko, or Darth Nosferatu Reess Kairn, or Darth Getarnt Komari Vosa, or Darth Evlerel

Another note is that two of his Apprentices got to choose their own Sith names.  Darth Nashtah and Darth Akk.  

[gffa]

→ Star Wars - Threats of the Galaxy // Essential Guide // Creatures       → Massiff // Nashtah             → Mynock // Vornskr                   → Ronto // Womp Rat Pack                         → Gundark // Varactyl                               → Womp Rat // Ysalamiri

[sinisterexaggerator]

“I’m so glad you’re not dead” - ( Cad Bane x Ahsoka Tano )

Summary: Ahsoka Tano encounters Cad Bane on the planet Daiyu while gathering intel for the Rebel Alliance. She is in her 30s now, and Cad Bane is an “old man.”

THIS IS A CRACK FIC. IT’S DUMB AS HELL. I had fun writing it, though. Hell. I might even write another one.

Warnings: Smut. 18+ / NSFW - Fucking semi-publicly, whining, teasing, kissing, cunnilingus, alien biology, clit fondling, premature ejaculaton, terrible, terrible dirty talk. Uhh... humor, duros double-dong, sweet smelling pheromones, Cad Bane being a superfan and a lot of weiiiiiird comments, maybe.  Sooo sorry about that.

Note: I did very little editing. I had the idea earlier today goofing off with my Duros Hoes and then I pooped this out.

Word count: 3.2

---------------------------

Luminescent neon reflected in the remnants of a puddle at the Togruta’s feet. She was on a mission – to gather intel for the Rebellion.

Daiyu was a planet that reminded her of her days on Coruscant as a mechanic in the lower levels, though you could see the sky if you looked up. She had taken shelter in a seedy cantina for the evening – her informant hadn’t shown.

The rain had since stopped falling – she felt something: a familiar presence. The montrals that jutted heavenward atop Ahsoka Tano’s head tingled with a sixth sense as they alerted her to movement down a side street just to her left.

That’s when she heard it; a voice that was distinctive. She wasn’t sure it was him until she cleared the shadows and spotted his gigantic hat. It could only be one Duros - bounty hunter Cad Bane in the flesh, yet older than she remembered – the woman smiled because she owed him one.

However, the soft smirk lingering at the corner of her lips faded; dissipated almost instantly.  He was holding a woman hostage; someone weaker than himself. He was angry with her, his words throaty, drawling, and filled with mild contempt.

“Where’s he hidin’? All I wants ya’ husband, lil’ lady. Ain’t afta you.”

“Please, leave us alone!”

“’Fraid I can’t do dat. Ssurely he’d come fer ya, hmm? Mebbe I t’ake you in’sstead.”

Ahsoka had heard enough. She drew her hood; took note of her sour mood.

The hits came quick; the woman screamed. Tano had sprinted lightspeed into the alley. Her body twirled midair; a foot came crashing in. Cad Bane’s face had met with Nashtah leather and durasteel.

He stumbled back, inadvertently letting his captive go in the process. He cupped his aching cheek, eyes squinting.

The woman ran as Bane tried to recover. He swung his fist at his attacker. She was much too fast, with the grace of a feral feline. She dodged easily, then slammed her palm into the center of his rostrum.

He yelped a pathetic sound. His hat had nearly fallen off his head. He shook himself, regained his traction, then dashed at the cloaked figure as she simply flipped over and above him.

He stopped, confused, turning to the left then right. Ahsoka swirled in a measured dance and kicked his feet out from underneath him. He fell forward onto his stomach. He rolled, flipped over, then gaped up at her, propped up on his elbows. He withdrew both LL-30 blaster pistols, but hesitated. Ahsoka glared at him.

“Time to finish our dance, old man.”

‘You’ve got de wrong Duros! I don’ know wha’cher -”

Ahsoka egged him on. Her knee bent forward, her back leg extending in a pose reminiscent of a form of martial arts. Her palm folded inward in a “come hither” gesture, though he still had no idea who his assailant was. He growled, then squeezed off two simultaneous blaster shots.

Ahsoka weaved away, one foot finding the nearest wall. She rebounded as she kicked, knocking one LL-30 clean out of Cad Bane’s grip.

He moved to fire with the one still left to him, but it was sucked right out of his extended hand by some unknown force. He gasped; finally catching on.

“J-Jedi?”

His weapon had hit the building right behind him. He grit his fangs. He became suddenly more serious, realizing what he was dealing with.

Tano had a habit of theatric, she learned that from her old master, Anakin Skyguy-Walker. It was in her blood. Her cape dropped, revealing arms of dark apricot, her montrals tall and her lekku hanging nearly to her waist, her face marked with the stripes of her kind’s natural camouflage.

Twin sabers lit up the night - they were white. Their reflection bounced back at her in Cad Bane’s widening, crimson eyes. He was frightened, though overcome by something in addition; something he inevitably couldn’t hide.

“You’re going to get a taste of your own medicine, bounty hunter.”

“Pa… Padawan T-Taano?” he managed in a high-pitched voice uncharacteristic of himself.

“Ahsoka,” the Togruta stated firmly.

She raised one saber in a defensive stance, the other being organized in an attack position. Her arm came down – Cad Bane had lifted one of his own to shield himself.

“W-wait! Don’t!” he had sputtered out; the fearsome hunter she had recalled of days long passed shedding near tears of all things. His brow ridge had arched upward as he gazed at her from beneath the brim of his bolero hat.

“Pl-please…” the Duros whined. He blinked languidly at her; her face faltered. She frowned. He was just an old man after all.

Cad Bane lifted himself up to sit, leaned forward, crawled on his hands and knees; his coat was dragging in excess water; the Duros having previously toppled over into a muddied rain puddle.

“Oh how the mighty have fallen,” Ahsoka nearly spat. She retracted the glowing beams of her dual lightsabers back into the housing of their Kyber crystals. She hooked them to her belt, folding her arms across her chest, though keeping a watchful eye.

“I know… I’m- I’m sor’ry …” Cad Bane began cautiously, his forehead facing downward, nearly touching the unclean street. He gave off all the appearances of being weak, downtrodden, just a washed-up mercenary.

“Fer dis!” He grabbed her ankle. She should have known better!  She had succumbed to that same trick once before, a long, long time ago…

He cranked his contact stunners just enough to make her cry out; crumble; dirtying her wardrobe. She was now level with him; dazed, lightheaded. She forced herself to stay awake.

Cad Bane took no chances. He advanced. He was on top of her within mere seconds, straddling Ahsoka’s lap. He wore an expression of uncertainty, but it quickly transformed as he looked down. All he could think to do was tip his hat between two smooth finger pads, though mesmerized by his hard-won prize.

“Maker… You sure are beau’ti’fuul…” he breathed out, starry-eyed.

Ahsoka’s neck lulled from side to side, Cad Bane’s thin digits inching up towards her head - he was timid. He brushed softly against her lekku, a small sound of longing exuding behind closed lips.

“Always knew you’d grow up t’be’a looker.”

The woman shuddered; her tails were sensitive. Her eyes shot open as she slapped him full force across his face, barely missing the edge of his breathing tubes.

Cad Bane articulated his surprise. He held his cheek; his eyes gleamed; they were misty, but he moaned out a tiny whimper in a bizarre show of appreciation for her decidedly rough handling of him.

“Sicko.”

“Naahhh …” he retorted almost lazily, in a haze of his own making.

Ahsoka’s knee came up. She jammed it into his crotch, though lacking in enough force to severely injure him. He exhaled his shock in a rush of air as she grabbed him by both sides of his ungainly apparatus - she flipped him in reverse. The Togruta mounted him, hanging on like grasping a Ylesian Reek by its cheek horns on either side.

Cad’s hat had slipped off partially, a metal plate of some kind being exposed to her. He bit his lip with jagged teeth, before stating something matter-of-factly, though his voice was laced with salaciousness. “Not’ta pervert, lil’ lady. I ne’ver tou’ched you, did I?”

Ahsoka took the time to wrinkle up her nose, Cad Bane used his odd inquiry to catch her off guard once more. He grabbed her by the shoulders; rolled her over. It seemed they could just keep on going until they would ultimately hit a wall.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” Ahsoka groaned, pushing him off full force with both her feet and hands.

The hunter fell back along a slab of duracrete as Ahsoka pounced, boosting herself forward with little effort, her unmatched reflexes returning to her as she had now fully recouped.

Cad Bane’s breath had been knocked out of him despite the oxygen tubes that were inlaid within his cheeks, the former Jedi taking him up by the lapel of his heavy leather duster.

Her fist curled, she made to punch him. Cad Bane lifted his hand, slowly. She watched the motion. He caressed her cheek like he had wanted to all those years ago.

“You still haven’t learned any manners, have you?”

“Teach me, oh Masta’ Jedi.”

Ahsoka cocked an eyebrow, feeling something stir beneath her. It was substantial. She took his hand in hers, pulled it away from her.

“You’re hard.”

Cad Bane sighed dreamily. “Hm? Oh … guess I am.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Ain’t had dis much fun in … Hey, will you force choke me?”

The Togruta balked. “What?!”

“Ju- just a lil’ bit!” the Duros crowed.

“N-no!”

Ahsoka hadn’t been paying full attention. A blaster had been lifted to her head where she had left it along the way, having used the Force to disarm the man, though not realizing where they now sat was near to his crude weapon. She chirped as the sinister Duros smiled, a hint of a sadistic grin having spread across his scarred and worn-out face – he was enjoying this …

“Lookie ‘ere. Wonda’ how many ccr’edits I’ll get fer’a force u’sser now’adays…” he crooned, halfway to a laugh though he seemed exhausted; intoxicated by the girl on top of him. Togruta’s smelled delicious…

She did all she could think to do. She grabbed both sides of his coat’s collar and kissed Cad Bane full force across his hairline mouth.

“Mmmhmhmhm… ” He was putty in her hands; he dissolved; became one with the earth beneath him. The arm holding his blaster pistol drooped and fell off to the side.

Ahsoka was intrigued; his tongue was slippery. It was cold. It felt … interesting. Though his maw was full of crooked fangs, he was careful with her, he only impressed his own lips against hers, but couldn’t find it in his heart to bite. Not yet.

There was something about him; he had a unique scent. She was drawn to him. She was suddenly… horny.

She was aghast; she pulled back. Cad Bane’s tongue lingered in the open air, his neck partly craning forward. He opened his eyes and blinked at her. He was almost adorable as his brow ridge curved inward in what could only be described as a pouty frown.

“Th-through wit’ me al’ready?” he asked with a dejected lilt.

His question had been disarming. The size of his cock was alarming. It was flush against her trousers. This was Cad karkin’ Bane we’re talking about!

What could she be thinking?! Darth Maul had got away … she wasn’t getting any younger … and neither was Cad Bane.

Ahsoka pushed against his chest. Cad Bane leaned back, disappointed, against the wall. He seemed confused; crestfallen, having forgotten his recent threat.

The woman went for it; she undid his Nerf-hide holsters, his extra cartridges. She unbuckled then unzipped his pants. She dug his cock out, her warm hand stroking the length of it. She barely had a chance to study its unique shape when Cad Bane’s mouth contorted - he rasped out a meager yelp; he couldn’t control himself. He came right in her hand.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaa…” he had hissed for the duration of his ejaculation.

It was mostly clear, tinged with green, and cold. She watched as it seeped through her fingers.

That was … short-lived.

Ahsoka outright laughed at him. He was overcome with anger, though he had a sudden realization about himself – his expression straightened out.

“Wait!! I’ve – I’ve gotta a’notha one!!”

Ahsoka’s mouth closed; she zipped her lips – she stared at him, wide-eyed.

Cad Bane dipped into his pants, retrieved his second cock; he had a hemipenis. It was normal for his species.

It was just as long as the first. Where had he been hiding it?! It was thick, ribbed, with pliant spicules, though they looked like they might hurt.

He handed it over to her as if it were an object; he was lounging like a man already spent. She suddenly desired to experiment.

She undid her belt and her trousers against her better judgment, though that oddly delightful smell had pulled her in again. She placed her lightsabers just out of reach and slowly lifted, grasping his dick to slide it within herself.

Cad Bane melted; his hat fell over his already heavy-lidded eyes. He cursed in his native language, adding “Fierfek" to the mix.

Tano rose to ride him; the Duros chewing on his own bottom fleshy rung. He flicked his hat back up, holding it by the tips of two blue fingers as he watched.

The woman found herself to be enjoying it until something sharp latched on. She stopped her pumps. The Duros offered her that shit-eating grin of his.

He grabbed her hips, mumbling something out. “Got’cha now…”

He had latched onto Ahsoka’s inner walls; it helped to breed the females of his ilk. He just loved not letting a woman go until he was done with them.

Ahsoka couldn’t help it. She pressed her lips together. She moaned at the feeling of him inside her as she locked onto his breathing apparatus, one tube in each of her ocher hands.

She pulled him up; forced him to look at her. She pushed his mouth apart – made him tongue kiss her again.

The Duros panted, not expecting that. He nearly lost his second load. He purred. He pressed his forehead against hers. He rubbed his rostrum across her nose.

“Ssshoky Taano…” he muttered out.

Ahsoka had closed her eyes. She reopened them to stare at Bane in apprehension. What did he just say?

“One’na de veeeeerrry lasttttt Jediiii…” he hummed a little to himself.

"I'm no Jedi," Ahsoka snapped.

"Ya' are t'me." His hands reached out; he was skittish. He groped the air before her breasts. “C-can I?”

“Go for it,”  she smirked.

“Ooohhhh … I’ve dreamt o’dis…” the Duros admitted, his large appendages fondling and molesting the Togruta’s tits.

“Um, ew.”

“Not – not like dat!”

His forehead crinkled in frustration. He shut her up by burying a finger between her lower lips right up against her clit.

She inhaled sharply. He knew what he was doing. He rubbed small circles across her little button, Cad’s own heartbeat increasing as he nearly climaxed.

“Soooo softt….smooth like sssiiilllk. I love warmbloods. Like fuckin’ de inside of a Eopie cream pie…”

Ahsoka lifted a brow in between little mewls of pleasure. She was disgusted and turned on.

“Not dat I’ve … mm… done dat…”

“Uh huh.. Shut up!”

The ridges of his cock hit just all the right spots within her; she cupped Cad’s remaining hand across her breast and held it to herself as she nibbled her bottom lip.

“Dat’s it girlie … ride dat Duros dick till de Batuuan cows come home.”

“I’m really going to need you to stop talking.”

There came a whiff of that delightful smell again, something that seemed to ooze out of his skin. Ahsoka plunged forward, knocked his hat off in her haste. She left kisses all across his skull cap, his cheeks, his forehead and his “nose.” His entire face.

It was addicting, whatever the hells it was. Pheromones? Musk? Cologne?

Ahsoka stayed her ground; pushed down harder on his cock as it throbbed inside her. Her pussy spasmed and she found herself sitting flat down on her haunches.

He was impaling her nearly to her cervix. Oh, but it felt so good…

She didn’t bounce, but rocked her body forward. His flexible spikes embedded themselves along her inner walls. She gave herself a gratifying massage across his ribbed phallus - she dug her hips in while she sank her teeth into his neck for fun.

Cad Bane buried his lithe fingers into her bare ass. “Ohh, you can’t do dat… no, no… can’t stop it- gonna… gonna…” he mumbled, his words hard to discern. “Tell me where ta’ -  foreva’ hold ya -”

“Before I change my mind,” the Togruta replied.

She came when he did. His seed was frigid. It kept coming; it wouldn’t stop.

“I’m sooooo glad yer not deaddd like de rest of dem…” he announced.

It lasted what felt like minutes, the substance leaking out and down her legs.

“Weird thing to say, but OK.”

The spell was broken. Ahsoka rose up onto her knees. She tried to lift. She was stuck. The pull it had caused inside her pussy kind of hurt, but it also felt soooo right.

Cad was wearing that shit-eating grin again.

“Let go.”

The Duros laughed; it was dark and twisted, muted, but he didn’t let her loose.

The woman tugged, jerked, her vagina was still full up of his cock. The friction, the rapid movement of her hips and waist as she squirmed about sent prickles throughout her cunt.

Ahsoka looked directly at him. Cad Bane was a shell of his former self. He stared up at her with that half-cocked smile; he licked his lower lip, the double points of his fangs appearing before he purred again; a rumble resounding from deep inside his chest.

She struggled a second time; Ahsoka huffed before giving in. She came all over his dick again once the feeling was too much to handle. Her moaning produced a hiccup in her vocal cords. She pushed her lips together. She wouldn’t let him get that much satisfaction out of her.

Too late.

The rumble in his chest grew louder.

“Let go.”

“Wanna eat you,” he stated plainly, that disturbing smile still present. She was sure if he had a tail it would be wagging fiercely.

“Cad, let-”

Something shifted; he released his lock. She rose again, her vagina just level with his face for a single instant.

“Like it when ya’ use m’name…”

He pushed her forward from behind. He had slipped his tongue inside her folds. It swirled around, down, up, across her cunt, her clit.

His tongue bore further inward as he partially sat up. It was like a worm trying to fill her hole; make it his new home. It was a patient writhing; kark, kriff, fuccck.

She trembled, tried to crawl away, but he held her there until she climaxed yet again by the brace of one sturdy hand.

Once he was through with her, the "Jedi" fell. He had simply let go and she landed on her back across his legs, but not before pressing his teeth into her inner thigh.

She scrambled, pulled her pants up, refastened her belt and secured her weapons.

“Hey, mebbe next time we-”

Ahsoka nearly cackled. “Next time?”

Cad Bane leered at her, snickered, nodded slowly in agreement. “Don’t ya know what all de girls are sayin’?

“Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “No, what?”

“Once you try a Duros fer yerself, you won’t want nuthin’ else...”

“We’ll see about that…”

“We will, won’t we, lil’ lady…” Cad Bane’s hand rose up. It was occupied. He had somehow stolen one of her two lightsabers.

“Hey, can I keep dis t’rememba’ ya' by?”

“How did you-? Absolutely not!”

Ahsoka reached out through the Force and took it back.            

“Jus’ thought I’d ask.”

———

Master list

[spacecravat]

Coruscant Nights 2: Street of Shadows by Michael Reaves

i’ve been going through these books mostly content with how mediocre they are

but boy was this a turn for the worse

spoilers ahead but you don’t really want to read this book so here we go

first off: typho, my poor guy

this book treats him so badly by the book

it has him hopelessly and silently in love with padme for years

then he decides he needs to get revenge on her killer

he doesn’t really get any personality outside of these two traits

goes on a quest to track down her murder, somehow ends up at darth vader through a completely illogical chain of events

he and vader have an angst fest over padme

as vader’s killing him

then it’s rip typho, who deserved so much better

next: aurra sing

“Fear me, Jedi! I am Aurra Sing, Nashtah, scourge of your kind! I haunt your darkest dreams! I drink Jedi blood; I nest in their guts! Your nightmares now have a name, hierophant, and that name is Aurra Sing!”

how did anyone ever write that line of dialogue seriously

how

and then she dies too, gets slapped in a scifi cement mixer and that’s goodbye aurra

and the love triangle

it was so bad

girl a loves boy, boy is entirely oblivious, girl b is ~super hot~ and everyone thinks she’s sleeping with any dude she interacts with

seriously, the entire book’s mystery hinges on her being so hot that a jealous wife goes and threatens her business partner because the wife thinks girl b is sleeping with her husband? and then the wife’s droid murders the business partner to make her feel better?

idk it was a weird and unsatisfying mystery

and then girl a leaves the organization they’re a part of because girl b decides to join too?

laranth deserved better. and dejah most certainly deserved better writing. so did baroness umber

i’m having trouble thinking of any redeeming characteristics for the book

it’s hard

[nosleeppotions]

"To the cadets that mixed my medication into different containers, I know who you are. One bottle in particular had very specific meds that help keep my crazy at bay. Did I take those? Who knows. I look forward to seeing all of you in today's classes.

Good luck~

;) "

- Nashtah, a usually nice Trainer

[predatine-blog]

         blast, but she’s tired. the muscles under alabaster skin complain LOUDLY to her as she continues trudging back into town. ( fucking backwater planets with twenty klicks or so between settlements         ) the damn rodian ended up smarter than she thought, half-destroying her speeder bike before she got her saber through those dark eyes. as such, she’s ended up walking back, something her feet haven’t stopped reminding her of regularly. and, as such, she’s in a very FOUL mood when she re-enters the town. not... all that different from her usual mood, admittedly. it’s not unusual for her mood to turn on a dime, either, and that’s exactly what it does when she sees a ghost. 

( perhaps ghost is a little dramatic. it’s not like boba’s dead, after all. just in custody. and while normally it isn’t that hard to break a person out of republic custody, a boy who very nearly succeeded in killing a jedi gets a few more SECURITY measures than the average child his age. and so far, her attempts to find an inside man among the republic d.o.c. has been a miserable failure. bribes don’t seem to go as far as they used to before the war. ) 

ghost or not, the sight of an all-too-familiar profile is enough to catch her eye, send her head jerking to the side and her hair bouncing as she squints. that’s certainly the face, but... he’s too DIFFERENT. a little gaunt, too skinny. doesn’t carry himself right. it sparks in her mind, sharp and hot      clone. one of the defect ones, maybe, or just a deserter. either way, very useful to the right person. and she’s always the right person. aurra just barely pushes down on a smile as she approaches him, her sore feet all but forgotten. she hasn’t gotten any prize yet, but she nonetheless feels very much like the cat with the canary. or the nashtah with the prey, in this case.

@infcntry​ // LIKED .